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GREAT AND MEMORAtn* EVENTS 



THE PROPHECY OF OUR NATIONAL GREATNESS. 



J'l sec 



l-'rocdoiirs csltiblislicd roi^n; cities and men. 
Numerous; as siiiiJs upcn tl\c ocean sliorc. 
AikI oiiipii"cs lis'mo where llic sim dcsecnJs! 
Tlio Ohio soon sluill olidc by iniiiiv ii town 
OrXotc! and >vlicrc llio Mississippi's slrciim. 
IJy (brcsls slii>d«:d, now i-iiiis SNvccpinif on. 
Nations shall ^ro\v. and shitcs. not less inlliinc 
Tluiii oreeee and Koine of old!We.loo,sluill boasi 
Our Seipios.Soloiis, Calos. Slices, chiefs. 
TIkiI ill llic lapse of lime vol doniiaiil lie, 
Wailing llic jovoiis hour of life aiiJ liolit." 

l''liilip l-rciicaii .llicAiiiericaii Poet in ijj^. 



ITS FULFILMENT. 

' '.'lliriiiliiiiur fl'lhiiiuiiilni iii'l iilviH in ihiiniMi. iiltiili Im.'iiMirrUiimikiiiNrilfifni 
tni l/tur.i, I'll/ ill llir iiicmi.M' iffil.tiH'iiiihlwii, ii'liicli i.u'irii iiiprr itiliinltlr limn ijiM iimUlivr 
liiut Imii Ml linn: > nmrf llimi ('iiral Uriluiii , iiiiir linir.i nmrr IImui . ln.Jriii. Irii liiiu-o iiiiiri- limn 
'^iiHT, anil /■> ili:>limil Ipiiiif lu ii hiimlml millioiui iil Ihi- riul uf' llir ccnlurif t ninl, (I'lftUHl il 
mir nnlfoii Ia In h'.in ih/HHifxin itt ifmnihin; in il.t IrrrilimnI nmijn ih ir.ti'nnv.t, in itt ni/iiii-i ■ 
lir.tnml inih o/ifiritniiilir.^ii-liiil Jl ilorf nrlntlrnifil lofuriliii, 

I'inni f ritnl In f < liilrni, fi-inii iiii nnliiin Ir iiMHinlin'n, fhnii . IHiinlir In liifi/ir. j'niiiilniii- 
iln-(lli(irlircil. Iliiiiii Ic llic finlilfn fiiilr.llirjiilnn- rflln.\i/riiil iiiinfrif.if'fmli/ /ini(lenn;iii.^- 

tlimi. fii.tliii' tiiklrii/lil iiiiil ikiiri\ .ilinll i/niilr il, .ilinll IiIh-iiiiiiI lln iii riniifiil of Inni/iimff, 

U-iffiiiil null iixmh lliiil iiii/ liiiirl cnnlil ilfriM-.nrllkil mil liHi/iic iiiii c i/i/>u> ' ' 

(•" iir ('eiiteiininl . Innit •rnMirii of llic Ihrlnnitinn iifVliulr/ifiiilrilcf ii ill find iij.ii.) lui rii- 
lire nnliini, irnifnizini/ llie i/wnl IniHi.iiflhiil imimiHnI . l/iuiiki ('linrlii ; I'li/iiifiiiii ii fiunr iiiilc 
(hillir nirlil. mill lirmiil ii.ilhr .iliir.i, irillinlinolirrilli lliiil .^litll ii-iip.H- In llii- :'iri/nir iillthf 
Miilii: iljilorii : > t>/ 'l/tc '/h. >/ ." ' 

1 >fv'/h\>l'i/e/i/ (''p//a I '. 



OUE FlEST CeNTUEY: 



BEING A 



POPULAR DESCRIPTITE PORTRAITURE 



OF THE 



^n^lfutitlr^tl ^mt ^i\ ^4m0i|citi^^tr4ttte 



OF PERPETUAL INTEREST 



IN THE HISTORY OF OUR COUOTRY, 

Political, IVfilitai-y. ]N£eclian.ical, Social, Scientific 

and Commercial: 



EMBRACIJ-'G ALSO 



DELINEATIONS OF ALL THE GREAT HISTORIC CHARACTERS 

CELEBRATED IN THE ANNALS OF THE 

REPUBLIC ; 

Men of Heroism, Statesraanship, Genius, Oratory, Adven- 
ture and Philanthropy, 



By R. M. pEVE^^S, 

Member of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, Author of Appletons^ Commercial and Business Cyclopedia, 
Lives qf Washington, Napoleon^ and Wellington, l^c, ^c. 



Splendidly Illustrated with Several Hundred Plates, Portraits, and other Embellishments. 



t 



PUBLISHED UV 

C. A. NICHOLS & CO., SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 

J. W. LYOX. EASTOX, PA. 

1876. 




Entered aoconllng to Act o( CongiMi, In Uie year 1S7S, by 

C. A. KICHOLS & Co. 
In the office o( the Librarian of Congress, at Wasbington. 



^1% 



CLARK W. IIRYAS S CoMPANV, 

KLECTBOTVI-KR.S, PRINTERS AND BlNDEBO, 

SPBIXOFIELD, MASS. 




'J 



"Columbia, great Republic! thou art blest, 
While Empires drop, and Monarchs sink to rest.' 



GLORY OF THE AMERICAN CENTURY. 



EAITD and impressive, beyond all that is yet written in the 

Volume of Human History, will be that transcendent Chapter, 

which shall unfold, in philosophic narrative, the birth and onward 
march, in greatness and power, of the Republic of the United States, — the completion 
of its First Century of mighty national development in Political Liberty and 
Free Civilization, and the momentous relations of that development to the interest, 
progress, and destiny of mankind. 

A task so stately and magnificent might fitly engage the pen of a Bancroft, a Motley, 
or other historiographer of kindred fame ; for, surely, no power of mental grasp or 
of historic portrayal inferior to theirs, could adequately set forth the resplendent 
advances and triumphs of Human Illumination — wide streaming, wondrous, 
beneficent, energizing, — on this western continent, and under the inspiration of 



8 



DEDICATION. 



liberal institutions, during the Century of 
the American Republic ; a country which, 
when it first clothed itself with the pre- 
rogatives of sovereignty, numbered but 
thirteen feeble States, with three million 
inhabitants, occupying; the small familiar 
strip of territory lined on one side by 
the Atlantic ocean, and on the other by 
the Alleghany ridge, but whose vast out- 
Ij-ing boumlaries are now watered also by 
the great Pacific, the gulf of California, 
and the Arctic ocean, — comprising, in fact, 
a continental chain of zones, sweeping, in 
hemispheric magnitude, from the moun- 
tain crests of eternal snows to the region 
of perpetual flowers ; — its census of popu- 
lation, too, with similar strides of amazing 
augmentation, rolling up a free, intelli- 
gent, and powerful citizenship of forty 
round millions ! 

Never before has the world witnessed 
80 superlative an illustration of the capac- 
ity of man for self government; never 
before has the Glory of Man, in his unre- 
pressed enthusiasm and unfettered activi- 
ties, been confirmed by achievements so 
splendid and enduring. 

Sharing, in full measure, the patriotic 
pride of a birthright and nationality so 
exalted, and of associations so illustrious, — 
the conscious sentiment of every American 
bosom, — 

I DEDICATE THIS WORK TO MY ENLIGIIT- 

EXED Fellow Countkymex in the 

XKAKI.Y TWO-SCOKE FKATERNAL COM- 
MONWEALTHS OF OUR GLORIOUS UNION, 

—E Pluribus Unum / "All fo it each, 

AND EACH FOR ALL." 



Our common interest in these marvel- 
ous recitals of the nation's WonderfuU}' 
varied Life during the Centennial Era, 
now just completed, is without distinction 
of party, section, or calling ; and our con- 



gratulatory lot it is, under the gracious 
blessing of Heaven, to boast of a career 
more renowned, diversified in character, 
and more boundless in its results to the 
human race, than that of the most com- 
manding Empires of the Past, of what- 
ever name or period. 

These memorials of that unparalleled 
and majestic drama possess, too, — many 
of them, — an historical significance which 
is not limited to the past, nor to the gener- 
ation whose fortune it is to rehearse them 
at this dividing threshold, between their 
occurrence and their commemoration ; — 
their influence will reach fonoard to the 
setting of the sun of time ! 

Vain Predictions of the Enemie.s of 
Free Government. 

Contemplating, with but the briefest 
survey, the data exhibiting our prodigious 
national growth, scarcely can it be realized, 
at the present day, that, even after the 
lai>se of successive decades from the na- 
tion's Mi'th, there were prophets of evil 
omen across the water, the devotees of 
monarchical rule and the enemies of free in- 
stitutions, who oracularly predicted that 
the American Republic was but a tran- 
sient experiment — a mere political will-o'- 
the-wisp — an aerial edifice, which a few 
rough storms would shatter and dissipate ; 
that it would, indeed, prove like Jonah's 
gourd, which grew up in a night, and per- 
ished in a day ! 

Statesmen of no less sagacity than II us- 
sell, Macaulay, Brougham, and, still later, 
even that astute jihilosopher, Mr, Carlyle, 
heralded with blind and self-conceited as- 
sumption, the downfall of our nation, — the 
same nation, of whose geographical mag- 
nitude already attained during its tenth 
decade, one of the most prominent of 
American Statesmen could declare, that, 
were all the countries conquered by Roman 



DEDICATION. 



arms, or reduced to subjection by Roman 
power, arrayed contiguously, in compact 
form, and placed in the center of the 
United States, one of our swift railroad 
trains, with its palace cars, containing 
more of elegance and luxury of travel than 
the most sybaritic of the Roman emper- 
ors ever dreamed of, must run at the rate 
of twenty-five miles the hour, continu- 
ously, for more than two days, from either 
exterior boundary of our jurisdiction, to 
reach the outward limits of the Roman 
empire, when thus placed, even when she 
claimed to be mistress of the world. 

But, though the vauntings of evil proph- 
ecy, the assaults of envy and ridicule, the 
tirades of a hostile press, and the machina- 
tions of kings and cabinets, have ever and 
anon swept across the Atlantic, and sought 
to weaken the stability and humiliate the 
name of our glorious Republic, it still 
stands, confronting and challenging the 
tribunal of the world, in the majesty of 
those eternal principles embodied in its 
Declaration of Independence, — in the 
strength of its dignity as the commanding 
arbiter of its own affairs, and of the des- 
tiny ot the Western hemisphere as well, — 
in the prowess of its fleets and armies, — 
in the incalculable wealth of its natural 
resources, — in the splendor of its world- 
wide commerce, its gigantic material en- 
terprises, its vast industries, its affluence 
in the whole range of art, science, and lit- 
erature, — and in the still growing ascend- 
ancy of all those moral, social, educa- 
tional, and political forces, which shall 
carry it onward and dominant, with ever- 
increasing power, " while Empires drop 
and Monarchs sink to rest." 

Well, then, may every true American, 
standing on this Centennial outpost, and 
seeing the gorgeous ensigns of the repub- 
lic studded with naught but stars of ever- 



brightening light and luster, proudly ex- 
claim, " There stands the Past — All hail 
the Hereafter! Ring out the Old — King 
in tlie New ! " 

Scope of this Volume: Wonders and 
Pkodigies, Men and Events. 

Leaving to the task of the general his- 
torian, the discussion of those grave themes 
of constitutional and legislative polity, the 
triumphs and failures of diplomacy, and 
the complex details of civic and military 
administration, which make up the politi- 
cal life of a State and give to a government 
its distinguishing consideration and status 
in the family of nations, it is proposed 
in this volume, — as meeting what is be- 
lieved will be the almost universal prefer- 
ence of the People, — to present, rather, a 
panoramic view of those wonders and prod- 
igies, both of men and events, which pe- 
culiarly reflect the patriotism, taste and 
genius, the exploits, tragedies and achieve- 
ments, of the Century, in their most promi- 
nent and emphasized examples; — those 
red-letter days, scenes and sensations, 
which exhibit, in distinctive portraiture, 
the glory of our arms, the triumphs of in- 
vention, the marvelous phenomena of the 
heavens above and the earth beneath, the 
enthusiasm of reform, the valorous adven- 
tures of voyage and travel, the contests of 
the forum, the horrors of calamity and 
crime, the startling play of the human will 
and passions, the gala days of national re- 
joicing, etc., etc., in all the rich and ex- 
citing phases of one hundred changeful 
j'ears. 

An eminent writer, in one of the most 
influential of the foreign Reviews, re- 
marks : 

" If the sense of wonder in civilized 
man has not been wholly destroyed, we 
can not doubt that this age in which we 



10 



DEDICATION. 



live will be looked back upon by our chil- 
dren's children a* more replete with won- 
ders than any which the world's history 
has hitherto recorded.'' 

How forcible the truth of this observa- 
tion is, in respect to the one hundred years 
of our own history, the characterizations 
spread out in the following pages will at- 
test. The calendar of that century has 
been multitudinous with wonders — social, 
moral, political, physical, scientific, — so 
vast, so dazzling, as to render familiar to 
us, as matters of common interest and 
daily thought, results and facts, greater 
and intrinsically more strange, than any 
that past ages afford, and eclipsing any 
that pertain to distant countries. 

The superior value, therefore, of this 
volume, for the great mass of readers, as 
compared with works of simple chronologi- 
cal summary with the usual comments and 
discussions, is seen in the more diverse 
range — the wider scope — of attractive sub- 
jects here collected, and which are adapted 
to meet so fully the average taste and 
need. Thus, the pages of no history, cast 
in the customary mould of that order of 
literature, could be expected to contain 
more than a passing allusion, if so much, 
tothepeculiarly readable matter which com- 
prises one-third, at least, of the topics here 
treated, and, without which, the work 
would fail in its most piquant element. 
History Illustrating Itself by Ex- 
ample. 

Adopting the words " great " and " mem- 
orable," according to the liberal definition 
of lexicologists, and guided by the familiar 
injunction of Cicero, " Choose with dis- 
cretion out of the plenty before you," the 
plan of this work is, in a special and per- 
spicuous sense, that of history illustrating 
itself by example. It says to all. Look 
on this picture — and on this. 



Suffice it to say, on this point, that 
every event chosen for these pages is, in 
addition to its own intrinsic interest, such 
as illustrates and brings into striking relief 
the prevailing spirit or excitement of the 
period marked by its occurrence, — photo- 
graphs of each recurring marvel, as the 
canvas of national life was unrolled, — be- 
ginning with the world-renowned transac- 
tion in the Hall of Independence, July 4, 
1776, and ending with the Centennial com- 
memoration, July 4, 1876, of that august 
scene, under circumstances the most grand 
and imposing that ever related to any peo- 
ple under the sun. 

Popular Interest of the Subjects 
HERE Treated. 

The popular and permanent fame of 
these celebrated events, which thus distin- 
guish a century confessedly the most won- 
derful of any in the ages of the world, and 
pertaining to a country whose career has 
been unequaled by that of any of the na- 
tions of Christendom, may well be said to 
constitute a quality in this volume, com- 
pared with which the ordinary terms ap- 
plicable to books designed for wide-spread 
circulation would be but tame. The char- 
acter of this work is, rather, in the fullest 
sense, romantic, stimulating, instructive, — 
adapted, in the highest degree, to enlist 
the rapt emotions and curiosity of every 
American reader, so long as the republic 
shall endure. Here, also, are presented to 
view, in addition to the long and thrilling 
role of subsequent events, those grand 
Time-marks in our earlier history, to 
which the out-stretched forefinger of a 
century points, as most memorable and 
engrossing. They were rehearsed by the 
fathers to the children ; and the children 
of the present, and those of future genera- 
tions, will peruse the varied story with 
eager and absorbing attention. 



DEDICATION. 



11 



For that large number, too, who though 
now in advancing years are familiar with 
many of these events only through verbal 
repetition, or from scanty and fragmentary 
sources, this ample detail, through the 
printed page, of whatever is most famous 
in the past of their native land, will surely 
be invaluable. 

Exclusion of All Dry Topics and 
Details. 

As already remarked, incidentally, the 
treatment of those topics which involve 
tedious documentary array, those, too, 
which are more properly within the scope 
of scientific speculation, or political theo- 
rizing, or legal disquisition, — such, for in- 
stance, as the shifting conflicts of party, 
our international complications, and those 
profound problems of public policy which 
have agitated the country since its very 
foundation, — has not been attempted here, 
excepting in those special features which 
admit of attractive narrative and the em- 
bodying of genial anecdote and pleasing 
memorabilia. A host of ready pens will 
not be wanting, to elaborate, in well-woven 
thread of continuity, the copious facts and 
proceedings relating, respectively, to the 
political, military, religious, benevolent, 
commercial and industrial growth of the 
republic, during the wondrous cycle just 
completed; and it is safe to assume, there- 
fore, in this regard, that the interests of 
no class or profession will suffer from the 
lack of a competent representative in the 
circle of authorship. 

The Universal Heart Touched by 
THESE Scenes and Events. 

It will readily be conjectured that, to 
" choose with discretion " from the multi- 
farious materials which the preparation of 
such a, work involved, — discriminating 



aptly among their number and variety, — 
was no indifferent task. 

The utmost pains-taking has been put 
forth by the editor, to perform this duty in 
such a manner as to omit nothing, the 
absence of which would impair the com- 
pleteness of the work, by making it in any 
measure less than it should be — a mirror 
reflecting the great and striking occur- 
rences of an Era to which has been di- 
rected, from first to last, the wondering 
gaze of people of every clime. Especially 
may they be described as those at which 
the American citizen, taking a retrospect 
of the annals that flow through the period 
thus marked, involuntarily finds himself 
filled, alternately, with astonishment — 
pride — horror — delight. 

In a word, the contents of these pages, 
as will be seen by a glance at the Topi- 
cal OR Classified List, comprise those 
events which called forth the greatest in- 
terest, curiosity, admiration, or terror, on 
the part of the public; — those black and 
white keys, whose changeful notes, oft- 
times of wealjofttimes of woe, touched, as 
did no others, the universal heart! 

Different Tastes and Preferences 
Consulted. 
That the number of subjects pertinent 
for such a work might be somewhat ex- 
tended, soon became apparent. Thus, of 
the many battles in the five great wars, — 
the revolutionary struggle, the war of 
1812, the Mexican campaign, the conflict 
for the Union, and the wars with the In- 
dians, — a description will be found of the 
fifteen most decisive, together with ac- 
counts of some others of controlling im- 
portance; to portray all, however, of ac- 
knowledged moment, would have been to 
devote a whole volume, at least, to that 
specialty alone. Particularly does this 



12 



DEDICATION. 



remark apply to that vast and prolonged 
drama of the war for the Union ; — it was 
absolutely impossible, and it would also 
have been equally unprofitable, to present 
more than a few of those teeming events. 
such, for instance, as marked its inaugura- 
tion, and those which, during its progress, 
distinct!}' foreshadowed or were immedi- 
ately identified with the final result. 

The same statement holds true, rela- 
tively, with reference to great political 
measures, crimes, disasters, reforms, and 
the wide field of discoveries and inven- 
tions. Of these latter, numbering in the 
Patent Office at Washington scores of 
thousands, the " New American Cyclopse- 
dia " gives place, in its masterly table of 
Chronology, to barely half a dozen exam- 
ples ; more than this number, however, are 
here described, linked with the fascinating 
story of their extraordinary origin and in- 
troduction, and their amazing revolution- 
ary influence. 

Without pursuing this train of ex[)lana- 
tion farther, it raaj- be observed that, in 
prosecuting the contemplated plan of this 
volume, it was found that, though the 
grand object in view would be amply and 
satisfactorily attained by restricting the 
topical contents to the original one hun- 
dred, there were yet certain notable occur- 
rences which, though by no means " great," 
in the pre-eminent meaning of that word, 
possessed, nevertheless, so largely the char- 
acter of being novel and exhilarating, and 
partook so peculiar!)' of the " bloom, effer- 
vescence, and gusli " of the times, that 
their presentation would add most agree- 
ably to the variety, readableness, and eclat 
of the text. 

It was finally determined, therefore, 
that a limited number of this collateral or 
secondary class should be included, — pop- 
ular side-light scenes, or episodes, in the 



varying tableaux, — such as the account of 
the sea serpent, the musical tour of Jenny 
Lind, the chess triumphs of !Morphy, 
Rarey's feats of horse-taming, etc., etc., — 
but not by subtracting from the full roll 
of the One Hundred events which were 
selected, from the first, as legitimately 
illustrating the broad National Epoch, and 
which so distinctly fulfill the name and 
design of this work. 

Great Historic Actors as well as 
Deeds Described. 

It will hardly be necessary to remark at 
much lengtli upon what, in the nature of 
the case, is so obvious, namelj', that not 
alone the great Events distinguisliing tlie 
past, but also the Actors, w.th whose lives 
those events are so intimately identified, 
are here delineated in the most striking 
crises of their career ; so that no sphere or 
phase of public concern, however diverse, 
which aroused world-wide attention, is 
without its personal portraitures in these 
pages. Wasliington, and his immortal 
compatriots of " the times that tried men's 
souls," and, following them, all the chief 
historic characters whose deeds loom up so 
conspicuously, and whose fame for good or 
ill, success or disaster, is national, — men 
of heroism, statesmanship, oratory, genius, 
adventure, philaiitlimpy, crime, — have 
here their appropriate place. 

Chaeacter and Extent of Labor In- 
volved. 

The matter of these volumes is of such 
a nature as necessarily to render mere 
rhetorical platitudes quite out of place ; 
and the too common plan of presenting 
rivulets of fact in meadows of verbiage, 
would be at utter variance with the object 
and value of our prescribed space. Res, 
noil verba ! It has consequently been a 



DEDICATION. 



13 



paramount aim with the editor, while 
strictly avoiding that degree of condensa- 
tion which would result in arid outlines, 
or bare skeletons, to — first, avoid micro- 
scopic details, and, second, to fuse the vital 
facts and racy incidents of each subject in 
such a manner as would body it forth to 
the reader in judicious fullness and com- 
plete unity. That no reasonable desire in 
this respect has been left unsatisfied, it is 
sufticient to say, that, to each great event 
is devoted a number of pages equal to that 
usually given to articles, descriptive or 
narrative, in the various first-class maga- 
zines of widest circulation. 

Manifestly, too, it could form no part of 
such a work as this to create, or to adorn 
by the mere artifice of words, but rather, 
with simple fidelity, to rehearse and per- 
petuate. Sources of information, wher- 
ever available, embracing the well nigh 
endless files of American newspapers, and 
in particular the issues of the metropoli- 
tan press ; the immense range of periodi- 
cal literature traversing the whole period 
of one hundred years ; voluminous masses 
of judicial and legislative documents ; the 
personal narratives of those who were 
foremost participants in the scenes de- 
picted ; innumerable incidents and data 
communicated by eye-witnesses ; the teem- 
ing libraries, public and private, of our 
principal cities ; — the whole store-house, 
in fact, of history in every department, 
has been industriously explored, and its 
contents, diligently examined and sum- 
marized, made tributary to the interest of 
these pages. 

No event or transaction has in any case 
been selected, or excluded, because of any 
bias, political or religious, on the part of 
the editor ; but, alike in respect to the 
events themselves and their dramatis per- 
sonce, the variety here presented, as well 



as the authorities and sources of informa- 
tion cited, will abundantly evince the en- 
tire impartiality practiced. Nor was it 
deemed desirable to augment the bulk of 
the work by indulging in diffuse com- 
ments, or philosophical reflections, on the 
events set forth, however fruitful and 
tempting the opportunity. The "plain 
unvarnished tale " is allowed to stand by 
itself, teaching its own lesson, and sug- 
gesting its own commentary. 

The difliculty of attaining unchallenged 
accuracy in all the minutioe of each event 
— as, for example, the diverse combina- 
tions and maneuvers incident to pro- 
longed battles, — as well as other transact 
tions involving great and many-sided 
detail, need but to be mentioned in order 
to be appreciated. The various and pro- 
tracted controversies growing out of the 
statements contained in the volumes of 
our foremost national historian, Mr. Ban- 
croft, are fresh in the minds of all who are 
familiar with current literature and affairs, 
and furnish a case in point ; and if any ad- 
ditional evidence were requisite to show 
the difficulties of even the most conscien- 
tious narrator, the experience of Sir Wal- 
ter Raleigh will at least be taken as suf- 
ficiently suggestive. It is well known 
that his "History of the World" was 
composed while he was a political prisoner 
in the Tower of London. Only a portion 
of the work, however, was published, 
owing to the following circumstance : — 
One afternoon, looking through his win- 
dow into one of the courts of the Tower, 
Sir Walter saw two men quarrel, when the 
one actually murdered the other. Shortly 
after this occurred, two gentlemen, friends 
of Sir Walter, came into his room, and, 
remarking upon the tragedy, disagreed 
materially in their statements. Sir Wal- 
ter, who, like them, had witnessed the 



J4 



DEDICATION. 



whole affair, declared that neither was ac- 
curate, and gave his own version of the 
matter. Thus, three eye-witnesses disa- 
greeing about an act so recently com- 
mitted. Raleigh, in a rage, took up the 
volumes of manuscript which lay near, 
and belonging to his " History of the 
World," and threw them on a large fire 
that was in the room, exclaiming, that " it 
was not for him to write the history of the 
world, if he could not verify or relate 
what he saw a quarter of an hour be- 
fore." 

It remains to be added here, in terms of 
warm and grateful appreciation, that much 
of the irksomeness inseparable from labor 
of this character, has been relieved by the 
aid afforded us, so cheerfully, by corre- 
spondents in different parts of the coun- 
try, — authors, statesmen, military and 
other officials, — and without whose friend- 
ly co-operation, insuperable difficulty would 
have been experienced by the editor, at 
more than one stage in the progress of his 
task. 

The valuable assistance thus rendered is 
hereby gratefully acknowledged, with a 
deep sense of personal obligation. 

Superb Attractiveness of the Illus- 
trations. 

Of the numerous and elegant pictorial 
adornments of these pages, much might 
be said. This attractive as well as essen- 
tial feature, namely, the full and graphic 
illustration, by views and portraits, of 
each event and its chief actors, together 
with the signatures of the latter, was de- 
termined on simultaneously with the first 
conception of the book itself; and the re- 
sult — a complete Picture Gallery of the 
National Century, — will be found in keep- 
ing with the selectest attainments of taste 
and genius in this direction, and worthy 



of the vivid transactions thus delineated. 
They have been furnished by the most 
eminent artists, and at a lavish cost, — the 
number, variety, and beauty of the plates 
being far in advance of those of any other 
work of the same compass ever before pub- 
lished in America, and equaled by few or 
none issued abroad. 

That nothing should be deficient in this 
feature, the plan pursued was, to obtain, if 
possible, accurate representations of every 
scene to be described, fresh and contem- 
porary with its occurrence, and, where no 
facility was afforded for this, to resort to 
the best skill capable of realizing the end 
desired. They comprise copies of some 
of the masterpieces of Trumbull, Copley, 
Healy, and others of that renowned school, 
and portraits, sketches, designs, vignettes, 
etc., by the most gifted leaders of art in 
America. 

It is but simple justice, also, to remark 
here, that for the completeness character- 
izing this wide field of embellishment, our 
warmest thanks are due, in repeated in- 
stances, to the generosity of courteous 
correspondents, — authors, artists, publish- 
ers and others, — for portraits and auto- 
graphs so rare that, but for the kind favor 
thus extended, access to some of the most 
valued engravings here given would have 
been well nigh impracticable. Nor would 
it be possible, in this connection, to over- 
state the credit belonging to tlie unrivaled 
illustrated journals of our great cities, 
whose prompt and profuse photographs of 
current events and memorable objects and 
personages, in all parts of the world, dur- 
ing the last quarter of a century, leave 
nothing unprovided in that line for the 
future historian. In a vast majority of 
instances, indeed, those journals are the 
only sources from which life-like picto- 
rial descriptions of American history, and 



DEDICATION. 



15 



that of other nations as weU, can be 
drawn. 

Timely Appearance of the Work. 

Without egotism or boastfulness, it may 
be claimed for this work, in conclusion, 
that, original and unique in plan, rich in 
its varied and ample contents, and unsur- 
passed in abundant ornamentation, its ap- 
pearance at the close of the Grand Na- 
tional Era was peculiarly called for; — it 
being confidently believed that, under the 



stimulus of the universal celebration of 
the Great Commemorative Anniversary, 
throughout all the borders of the land, 
and on a scale of magnificence becoming 
the most powerful, happy, and prosperous 
nation on the face of the globe, public at- 
tention would naturally be directed to the 
desirableness of just such a Memorial of 
that eventful centenary period which the 
Day of Jubilee— July Fourth, 1876,— 
rounds out to full-orbed completeness. 
E. M. DEVENS. 





Birth of the New Republic. — 1776. 



Declaration of American Independence and National Sovereignty, July Fourth 1776 —The 
Gauntlet of Defiance thrown at the Feet of the British Empire by Her Youngest Colonies. 
—Vast Dispai-ity, m Power and Resources, between the Contestants— The whole World 
Looks on Astonished.-Seven Years' Bloody and Desolating War.-The American Cause Tri- 
umphant—Grandest Modern Event.- America Resists Unjust Taxation.-Haughty Obsti- 
nacy of lung George— Burning Eloquence of Patrick Henry.-His Summons, "We Must 
i ight."— Washington Endorses this Sentiment— Determination of the People.- War Prefer- 
red to Submission— Momentous Action by Congress.- Separation from England Decreed.- 
Elject of the Act in America.-Its Reception in England.— Excitement of the King and Court. 
—Lord Chatham, America's Advocate.— His Passionate Change of Views.— Scorching Speech 
against the Colonies -He is Struck Dead while Speaking— Magnanimity of Burke and 
° V- !:°°""'°" ^''°™ ^'■''"*=^ Secured— Her Timely Aid in the Struggle.-Victories over 
the British Armies.-England Gives Up the Contest.-World-wide Welcome to the New 
Nation „. 

2 '^ 



18 CONTENTS. 

II. 
CAPiTrLATios OF General Burgoyxe. — 1777. 
First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans. — Utter Failure of England's Grand Scheme 
to " Sul>due the Uebellioiis Colonies." — European Sympathy for the Struggling Infant Na- 
tion. — Alliance between France and the L'nited States. — Brilliant and Effective C<inilination- 
of French and .\rnericaii Forces. — Gloomy I'roi-iiect for America in 177". — Britain's Honor 
Intrusted to Burgoyue. — His Magnificent Army. — Rebels to be Sternly Dealt Willi. — San- 
guine Expectations of Success. — Savages Leagued with the Invaders. — Their Murder of 
Miss McC'rea. — Burgoyne's Triumphant Progress. — Fall of Ticonderoga. — American Victor- 
ies at Brnnington, etc. — Gates's Arn)y in Fine Spirits. — General Eraser Shot De.id. — The 
"King's Regulars" Desperate. — General Clinton Fails to Aid Them. — .\11 Hop<' .\liandoned. 
— Burgoyne Lays Down his .\rms. — His Meeting with Gates. — Trupliics of this Victory. — 
How Washington Got the Xews. — Unbounded Joy of Americans. — Crushing Blow to British 
Pride. — Effect upon Other Nations ~'2 

in. 

First Americas Naval Victory. — 1779. 
John Paul Jones, Commanding the Bon Homme Richard, Fights and Captures King George's 
Powerful Ship-of-war, the Serapis, in British Waters. — Crowds of Spectators Line the En- 
glish Coast. — 'I'lie Most Sanguinary Battle Ever Fought between ."^ingle .'<hips. — Jones is 
Hailed as "The Washington of the Seas." — World-wide Interest of this Combat. — Commo- 
dore Jones's Early Career. — Offers his Senices to Congress. — Appointed a Naval Lieutenant. 
—Joins the Continental Fleet. — The First to Hoist its Ensign. — Style and Motto of the Flag. 
— Sails from France on a Cruise. — Terror Created by His Movements. — Characteristic Anec- 
dotes. — Two British Frigates in .Sight. — Jone^ Ready for Bloody Work. — The Ships Muzzle 
to Muzzle. — Superiority of the Si'rapis. — A Most Deadly Contest. — Both Vessels on Fire. — 
Jones Attacked by .\nother I'oe. — One of His Vessels Tre.icherons. — Remarkable Scenes. — 
Britain's Flag Struck to America. — An Act witliout Precedent. — Sinking of the Victorious 
Vessel SI 

rv. 

The Woxderful Dark Day. — 1780. 
The Northern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours. — The Day of 
Judgment Sup|X)sed to have Come. — Cessation of Labor. — Religious Devotions Resorted to. 
— The Herds Retire to their Stalls, the Fowls to their Roosts, and the Birds Sing Their Even- 
ing Songs at Noonday — Science at Loss to Account for the Mysterious PlnMionienon. — One 
of Nature's Marvels. — Redness of the Sun and Moon. — Approach of a Thick VajKir. — Loud 
Peals of Thunder. — Sudden and Strange Darkness. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — End of the 
W'orld Looked For. — Dismay of the Brute Creation. — An Intensely Deep Gloom. — Difficulty 
in Attending to Business. — Lights Burning in the Houses. — Vast Extent of the Occurrence, 
— Conilition of the Barometer. — Change in the Color of Objects. — Quick Motion of the 
Clouds. — Birds Suffocate and Die.— The Sun's Disc Seen in Some Pl.ices.— Oily Deposit on 
the Waters. — Impenetrable Darkness at Niglit. — Incidents and Anecdotes. — Ignorant Whims 
and Conjectures. — An Unsolved Mystery 89 

V. 

TREASO>f OF Ma.IOR-GeXERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD. — 1780. 

Darkest Pap; in American Revolutionary History.— Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibralt.ir 
of America, Over to the British.— Movements of the Guilty Parties.— Discovery and Frus- 
tration of the Crime— Major Andri', the Britisli Spy, is Caj'tineil, niu\ Swings from a Gib- 
bet. — Escape of Arnold to the Enemy. — Is Spurned and Isolated in England. — .\rnold's 
Unquestioned Bravery. — Commended by General Washington. — Infamous Personal Transac- 
tions. — Reprimanded by His Chief. — Determines on Revenge. — Corresjwndence with the Foe. 
— Ingratiates Wa.shington's Favor Again. — Obtixins Command of West Point. — Midnight 
Conference with Andre— Andre S.-ized while Returning. — Astounding Evidence Against 



CONTENTS. 19 

Him. — Attnmpts to Bribe His Captors. — Carried to American Head-Quarters.— Arnold Ap- 
prised of the Event. — A Hurried Farewell to His Wife. — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor. — He 
Reaches a British Man-of-War.— ^^'ashingtau's Exclamation at the News.— His Call on Mrs. 
Arnold. — Andre's Trial and Conviction. — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His L'nlamented 
Death • . . 97 

VI. 
CoRNWALLis Surrenders His Splendid Army to General WAsniNOTOx. — 1781. 
Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America.— Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of 
King George. — Their Vaunted Wager of Battle Returns to Them with the Loss of Their 
Fairest Pos.session. — Washington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Him as Their 
Deliverer. — Last Act in the ^Military Drama. — Cornwallis Halts at Yorktown. — Makes it His 
Defensive Post. — Decoy Letter Sent by Washington. — The British Strongly Fortified. — 
American and French Forces Ignited ■ — Their Advance on the Enemy. — Furious Bombard- 
ment. — Redoubts Stormed by Lafayette. — Both Sides Confident of Triumph. — British Efforts 
to Retreat. — Cornwallis Prefers Death to Defeat. — Reckless Bravery of Washington. — Ardor 
and Exultation of His Troops. — Cornwallis Fails of Re-enforcements. — He Asks a Cessation 
of Hostilities. — Forced to Yield the Struggle. — Universal Rejoicing of Americans. — Morti- 
fication of the English. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the War 
Cease. — The Voice of Parliament. — Commemorative Action by Congress 104 

vn. 

Adieu to the Army by Washington. — 1783. 
Affecting Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in- 
Arms. — Solemn Farewell Audience with Congress. — In Its Presence He Voluntarily Divests 
Himself of His Supreme Authority, Returus His Victorious Sword, and Becomes a Private 
Citizen. — History of the Election of a Military Leader — America's Destiny in His Hands. 
— Appointment of George Washington. — The Array at Cambridge, Mass. — He Immediately 
Takes Command. — Is Enthusiastically Greeted. — Leads Its Fortunes Seven Y'ears. — Record 
of His Generalship. — Ends tlie AVar in Triumph. — Scheme to Make Him King — Indig- 
nantly Rebukes the Proposal. — Last Review of His Troops. — His Strong Attachment for 
Them. — Intention to Leave Public Life. — Congress Informed of this Fact. — Embarkation 
from New York. — Homage Paid Him Everywhere. — Arrival at Ainiapolis. — Proceeds to the 
Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial There. — Rare Event in Human History. . 112 

VIII. 

Appointment of the First Minister Plenipotentiary, from the New Repl'blic 

TO THE English Court. — 1785. 

John Adams, America's Sturdiest Patriot, and the Foremost Enemy of British Tyranny, Fills 
this High Office. — Interview between Him and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their 
Addresses, Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — The Two Men Rightly 
Matched against Each Other. — Old Animosities Unhealed. — Mutual Charges of False Deal- 
ing.— Settlement Demanded by the United States. — What Adams's Mission Involved. — Dis- 
memberment of the British Realm.— Loss of the Fairest Possession.— Bitter Pill for the 
King. — His Obstinacy Forced to Y'ield.— Humiliation of the Proud Monarch.— All Europe 
Watches the Event— Mr. Adams Presented at Court.— Patriot and King Face to Face. — 
Official Address by the :\linister.— Reply of King George.— His Visible Agitation.— Adams's 
Presence of Mind.— Pays His Homage to the Queen.— Her IMajesty's Response.— Civilities 
by the Royal Family.— Results of this Embassy.— Pitiable Position'of Geoi'ge the Third.— 
Fatal Error of Great Britain 119 

IX. 

First Orgaxizeb Rebellion in the Unitf,d States. — 1786. 
Daniel Shays, at the Head of an Armed and Desperate Force, Boldly Defies the State and Fed- 
eral Laws in Massachusetts.—" Taxation and Tyranny " the Alleged Grievances. — Alarming 



20 CONTENTS. 

Disaffection throughout all New England. — Bad Leaders and Furious Mobs. — Rout of the 
Insurgeiit-s, by General Lincoln, in the Dead of Winter. — Patriotic Old MaK.sachiisetts in a 
Fenneut. — Causes of Public Discontent. — Total Exhau.stion of Credit. — Pro.stration of Trade. 
— Ruinous Debts, Heavy Taxation. — Weakne.ss of the Government. — An Excited Populace. 
— Turbulence and Lawlessness. — All Authority .Spurned.— A Bloody Conflict Invited. — 
Courts of Justice Broken I'p. — Indignation of Wa-shington. — Heroism on the Bench. — The 
National Forces Augmented. — Fears of a General Civil War. — Unscrujiulousness of Shays. 
— Intention to Seize the Capital. — Goveruer Bowdoin's Defenses. — General Lincoln in Com- 
mand. — Active Movement of His Troops. — A Terrible Snow-Storm. — Hard-ships of Shays's 
Army. — Federal Bayonets Triumphant 125 

X. 
Formation and Adoption of the Federal Constitution. — 1787. 
The United Slates no Longer a People without a Government. — Establishment of the Repub- 
lic on a Permanent Foundation of Unity, Organic Law and National Polity. — Dignity, 
Learning, and Eloquence of the Delegates. — Sublime Scene on Signing the Instrunn'iit. — 
Extraordinary Character of the Whole Transaction. — State of Things After the War. — 
Financial Enibarra,ssment. — Despondency of the People. — Grave CrLsis in Public Aflairs. — 
A Grand Movement Initiated. — Plan of Government to be Framed. — All the States in Con- 
vention. — Washington Chosen to Preside. — Statesmen and Sages in Council. — The Old Com- 
pact Abrogated. — New Basis of Union Proposed. — Various Schemes Discussed. — Jealousy of 
the .Smaller States. — Angry Deb.ate.s, Sectional Threats. — Bad Prospects of the Convention. — 
Its Dissolution hnniinont.^Franklin's Impressive Ap]>eal. — Compromise and Conciliation. — 
Final System .\greed Upon. — Patriotism Rules, all Hearts. — Ratification by tlie States. — 
National Joy at the Decision 132 

XL 

First Election and iNArcrnATioN of a President of the United States. — 1780. 

Washington, "First iu War, First in Peace, and First in the Hearts of His Countrj-men," the 
Nation's Spontaneous, Unanimous Choice. — His Triumphal Progress from Home, and Sol- 
emn Induction into Office. — Jubilee throughout the Republic, over the August Event. — 
Auspicious Commencement of the National Executive Government. — Requirements of the 
Constitution. — A President to be Chosen. — Four Years the Term of Service. — All Eyes 
Fixed Upon Wa.shington. — His Reluctance to Accept. — Reasons Given for this Course. — 
UVgent Appeals to Him.— The Result of the Election.— One Voice and One Mind. — He 
Bows to the People's Will. — .Joy Produced by His Decision. — Departs at Once from Mount 
Vernon. — Farewell Visits to His Mother. — Inauguration ApiH>inted for March Fourth. — 
Postponement to Ainil Thirtieth. — Order of Ceremonies. — New Si>ectacle in the Western 
World —Distinguislu'd Celebrities Present. — Washington's Elegant Appearance. — Dignity 
■when Taking the Oath.— Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Curious Customs Initiated. . 139 

XII. 
Greatest Defeat and Victory of .Xmerican Arms in the Ixdiax Wars. — 1791. 
Headlong Flight and Destruction of St. Clair's Army, iu 1791, before the Trained Warriors 
of '• Little Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Tri- 
umph in 1791. — Final and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jackson, in 1814. — The Question of 
Power between the Two Races Forever Settled in Favor of the Whites. — Old Feuds between 
the Races. — Harmer's Expedition to tin? Nnrlli-west. — Powerless in Ambu.sh Warfare. — 
Repeated and Bloody Reverses. — St. Clair i>ut in Conunand. — Warning Words of Washing- 
ton. — Sudden .Vttack by the Miamis. — Terrible Slaughter of the Whites. — Overthrow of the 
Whole Camixiign. — Wa.shington's Reception of the News. — His Appalling Wrath. — Sketch 
of St. Clair's Conqueror. — His Fame at Home and Abroad. — General Wayne Sent to the 
Field. — Unsucce.ssfully Proffers Peace. — Instantly IVpares for Battle. — Great Army of 
Indian Warriors. — Their Sagacious Choice of Position. — Desiderate Fury of the Conflict. — 
Wayne's Prowess Irresistible. — Death Knell of the Savages. — Their Confederacy Shat- 
tored 146 



CONTENTS. 21 

XIII. 

Whitney's Extr.\Ordinary Cottox-Gin Invention. — 1793. 
Amazing Impetus Given to the Culture, Uses and Consumption of Cotton. — Revolution in the 
Industrial Prospects and Political Power of the South. — How Cotton Became "King." — Its 
Relation to the Great Themes and Events in American Histoi-y. — Ingratitude to Whitney. — 
His Brilliant Change of Fortune in Another Sphere. — Whitney's Obscure Circumstances. — 
His Early Mechanical Genius. — Determined to Get an Education. — Goes to the South as a 
Teacher. — Change of Pursuits. — Befriended by General Greene's Widow. — Amateur Invent- 
ive Efforts. — Low State of Southern Industry. — Objection to Cotton-Raising. — Mrs. 
Greene's Apt Suggestion. — Whitney's Characteristic Resolve. — Secret and Persevering Toil. 
• — Jjxciting Rumors as to His Purpose. — Great Expectations Entertained. — Triumphant Suc- 
cess. — Euthusiasm of the Cotton-Growers. — His jMachine Stolen from Him. — Infringements 
upon His Patent. — Law-Suits, but no Redress for Him. — His Pathetic Letter to Fulton. — 
He Invents a Valuable Firearm. — Southern Strides in Wealth 153 

XIV. 
The Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. — 1794. 
Violent Resistance to the L^nited States Excise Laws.— Monster Meetings and Inflammatory 
Appeals. — Officials and Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tarred, and Feathered. — Intense 
Excitement in all the States. — Washington Declares that the Union is in Peril and Heads an 
Army to Meet the Crisis. — Precipitate Flight of the Armed Rebels. — Congressional Tax on 
Spirits. — Cry of " Tyranny ! " from Distillers. — Western Pennsj'lvania in a Blaze. — Extent of 
Her Whiskey Interests. — Ambitious Politicians at Work. — A Revolt Incited by Them. — 
Bradford the Chief Desperado. — Reign of Terror Inaugurated. — Tax-Collectors Roughly 
Handled. — The Incendiary's Torch. — " Tom the Tinker's " Ruffianism. — Fury of the Fac- 
tionists. — Firm Courage of Loyal Men.— Perplexity of the United States Government. — 
Presidential Proclamation. — Law and Order to be Maintained. — Troops Summoned into 
Service. — Prompt and Patriotic Response. — The Olive Branch vs. the Sword. — Bradford 
Scorns Conciliation. — '^Vashington's Mind Made L'p. — Prevents the Effusion of Blood. 160 

XV. 
Founding and Establishment of the National Capital. — 1799. 
Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding the Location.- — First " Compromise " in Congress between 
the North and the South. — Final Removal of the Government and its Archives to Washing- 
ton. — Official Observance of the Event. — Magnificent Site and Plan of the City. — Splendor 
of its Public Buildings. — Congress First Sits in Philadelphia. — Need of a Permanent Capi- 
tal. — National Dignity Involved. —Violent Agitation of the Subject. — Philadelphia and New 
York Proposed. — They are Objected to by the South. — Northern Disunion Threats. — 
Schemes of Conciliation. — How the Question was Settled. — Sweetening Two Bitter PiUs. — 
Jefferson's Graphic Account. — General Washington's Preference. — His Site on the Potomac 
Adopted. — Some Rather Personal Anecdotes. — Work of Laying Out the City. — Its Original 
Aspect and Condition. — Early Trials of the President's Wife. — Construction of the Capitol. 
— Its Corner-Stone Laid by Washington. — Congress in its New Halls. — Growth of the Me- 
tropolis. — The New Corner-Stone of 1851 107 

XVL 
Death of George Washington. — 1799. 
His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Dying Words. — Fortitude and Serenity through 
all His Suflerings. — He Calmly Announces His Approaching Dissolution Without a Mur- 
mur. — The Whole World Does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted Worth 
and Lnmortal Fame. — He Anticipated an Early Death. — His Invariably Good Health. — 
Exposure in a Snow-Storm. — Takes a Fatal Cold. — Last Letter AVritten by Ilis Hand. — 
Reads the Papers in the Evening. — Characteristic Reply to His Wife. — Passes a Restless 
Night. — Alarming Condition the Xext Day. — Jledical Treatment of no Avail. — Calls for His 
Two Wills, Burns One.— Affecting Scene at His Bedside.— Last Words, '"Tis Weill"— 



22 CONTENTS. 

Only One Day's Sickness. — Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family Vault. 
— Tidiuffs of His Death. — Tiil)utes from IVnjiles and Kings. — A Man Wilhinit a Parallel. — 
Last Page iu His Journal. — lie-entombment in 1S37. — Appearance of His llemaius. . 17-1 

XVII. 

PfXISnMEST AND COMPLETE DEGRADATION OF THE BaRBARY StATES BY THE Yoi'XG 

KEniiLic. — ISlKi. 
Tribute Exacted of all the Nations of Christendom, by the Piratical Powers. — The Thunder of 
American Cannon before Their Cities. — Ignorainious Submis.<ion of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, 
and Tripoli. — Their Audacious Corsairs Vanquished and Driven in Terror from the Sea.s. — 
A Boon to the Civilized World. — Barbary a Nation of Freebooters. — All Commerce at their 
Mercy. — The United States L'nknown to Them. — Its Flag Descried on the Oee^m. — Fre.'ih 
Plunder Anticipated. — Seizure of American Ships. — Retaliation by the Yankees. — Tripoli's 
Flag Struck at Last. — Treaty between the Belligerent-s. — New Exactions by the Algerines. — 
Retribution in Store for Them. — A United States Frigate in the Pirate Haunts. — Grounding 
of the Philadi-lphia. — Her Triumphant Capture by the Enemy. — Their Boisterous Exulta- 
tion. — Decatur Burns Her During the Night. — Fierce Rage of the Turks. — Bombardment of 
Trifxili. — How "Christian Dogs" were Viewed. — Peace Sued for by the Desjiots. — Their 
Duplicity and Treachery.— America's "Tribute" is Powder aud Balls 182 

XVI I L 
Fatat, DrEL nETWF.Ev Mr. Btru axi> Gexeral Alexanpf.r Hamilton. — 1804. 
Fall of Hamilton at First Fire. — His Death in Thirty Hours. — Profound Sen.sation and Solemn 
Obsequies in all Parts of the Land. — Jlouriu-d as One of the Founders of the Republic. — 
Indictment of the Assassin for the Crime of Murder. — Hamilton's Brilliant Public Life. — 
Washington's Right-hand Man. — Champion of the Federalists. — Burr's Career in the Revo- 
lution. — His Notorious Debauchery. — Finally Dismissed by Washington. — Becomes Vice- 
President in 181)0. — Deadly PiM-sonal Hatreds. — Critieinns on Burr by His Ojiponen^s. — 
Challenge Sent to Hamilton. — Pacific Explanations Spurned. — Forced to Meet Burr. — Mates 
His Will in Anticipation. — Sings at a Banquet the Day Before. — Arrival of the Fatal Hour. 
— Hamilton's Mortal Wound. — What He Saiil of the Event. — Conversation before Dying. — 
Partakes of the Communion. — Ills Testimony against Dueling. — Heartless Conduct of 
Burr. — A Fugitive aud au Outlaw ' 189 

XIX. 

Total Soi.ar Eclii-se at Mid-Day. — 1806. 
The Darkness of Night Falls ujwn the Earth. — Stars ami Planets in Full Radiance. — Magnifi- 
cent Spectacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Ro.-^y Protuber- 
ances Flaming from the Sun. — Splendor of the Returning Night. — Similar Eclipse in 1869. 
— Millions of Faces Turned Upward. — The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder, 
and Absorbed Ui-light. — Ri-niiirkably Fine Weather. — Serene and Cloudless Heavens. — Busi- 
ness Pursuits .\baudnned. — The Moon Crossing the Sun. — Distinctness of the Lunar Orb. — 
Grand, Dark, Majestic, Mighty. — Total Obscurity Some Five ^linutes. — Ai'pi'iirauce of 
Nature. — Sensations Produced in the Mind. — Involuntary Exclamations. — Effect on Birds 
and Animals. — Triumphs of Astronomical Science. — Exquisitely Constructed Instruments. 
— Revelations of the Spectro.scope. — Great Thermometrical Changes. — Spots on the Sun Ex- 
aminc-d. — Ojieiiings in the Moon. — Peculiar Color of that Body. — Its Dark and Di>mal 
Shadows. — Search for New Stars. — Meteors 'mid Earth and Moon. — Climax of the Impres- 
sive Scene 196 

XX. 

Conspiracy and Trial of Aaron Bvrr. — 1806. 
Lawless Scheme of Conquest and Dominion at the South-west. — .\ New Empire Contemplated, 
with Burr as Sovereign. — Seizure of His Flotilla and Disi>ersion of His Men whi'U Ready 
to Embark, by the Federal Forces. — Capture and Arraignment of Burr for High Treason. — 



CONTENTS. 23 

Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions.— Enlists Blennerhassett in His 
Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged.— Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the ■\^■hole 
Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise. — Scene at His Arrest. — Attempt 
to Escape. — The Iron-Hearted Man in Tears.— His Social Fascination. — Preparations for the 
Trial. — Its Legal and Forensic Interest. — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — Shunned as a 
Wan of Infamy. — Devotion of His Daughter Thi-odosia. — Lifelong and Unalterable Love. — 
Her Mysterious Fate. — Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral Wreck and Warning. . 20-t 

XXL 

Fulton's Triumphant Application of Steam to Navigation. — 1807. 
First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced 
by the Exhibition. — Great Era in National Development. — The World at Large Indebted to 
American Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Revolutionary Agent in Human Prog- 
ress and Power. — The AVhole Scale of Civilization Enlarged. — Fulton's Early Mechanisms. 
— His Inventive Projects Abroad. — Steam Propulsion the End Sought. — Various Experi- 
ments and Trials.— Livingston's Valued Co-operation.— Studying the Principle Involved. — 
Its Discovery at Last. — Legislative Encouragement Asked. — Public Ridicule of the Scheme. 
— Construction of a Steam-boat. — The " Queer-Looking Craft." — Incidents at the Launch. — 
Undaunted Confidence of Fulton.— Sailing of the " New-Fangled Craft."— Demonstrations 
Along the Route.— Complete Success of the Trip.— First Passage Money.— That Bottle of 
Wine.— Opposition Lines, and Racing.— First Steam-boat at the West.— Amazing Subse- 
quent Increase. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes 212 

XXIL 
Extensive and Calamitous Earthquake at the West. — 1811. 
Its Convidsive Force Felt All Over the Valley of the Mississippi and to the Atlantic Coast. — 
The Earth Suddenly Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful 
Chasms and Upheavals. — Ruin and Desolation Brought upon the Inhabitants.— Humboldt's 
Interesting Opinion of the Western Eartlupuike.— Its Central Point of "\'iolence.— Terrible 
Consternation Produced. — The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Agitation of the 
Waters.— Houses Buried, Boats Wrecked.— Giant Forests Crushed.— Purple Tinge of the 
Atmosphere.— Thunder, Lightning, Flood, etc.— A Mighty Struggle.— Hills and Islands Dis- 
appear. — Burial Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's Secrets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New 
Ones Formed.— Present Aspect of the Country.— Account of the INIore Recent Earthquakes 
in California, Their Characteristics and Destructiveness.— Most Serious in San Franci.sco. — 
Lives and Property Lost.— Women and Children Panic-Struck. — Direction of the Shocks. — 
Indications of Their Approach. — Effect in the Harbor and Bay 218 



XXIIL 

Capture of the British Frigate Guerriere by the United States Frigate Con- 
stitution. — 1812. 

Captain Dacres'.s Insolent Challenge to the American Navy.— Captain Hull's Eager Accept- 
ance.— His Unrivaled Tactics and Maneuvers.— A Short, Terrific, Deci.sive Contest.— Yankee 
Valor on the Ocean a Fixed Fact, Sternly Respected.— The Constitution Becomes the Favor- 
ite .Ship of the Nation and is Popularly Called "Old Ironsides."— Cruise of the Constitution. 
—Hull, the " Sea King," in Command.— A Sail I The Enemy's Squadron !— Chased Three 
Days by Them.— Rowing and Warping in a Calm.— Most Wonderful Escape on Record.— 
Another Frigate in Sight, the Ouerriere.— Her Signals of Defiance.— Yankee Eagerness for 
Action.— The Two Frigates Afoul.— Yard-.\rm to Yard-Arm Encounter.— Fire of the Con- 
' stitution Reserved.— Final and Deadly Broadsides.— Fearless Conduct of Her Crew.— British 
Colors Hauled Down.— Sinking of the Shattered Wreck.— Armament and Power of the 
Ships.— An Almost Equal Match.— Anecdotes of the Two Commanders.— Honors to the 
Brave Victors.— Future Annals of the Constitution.— Her Varied and Noble Career. . 225 



24 CONTENTS. 

XXIV. 

America and England Matched Against Each Other in Squadron Co.mb.\t. — 1813. 

Lake Erie the Scene of tlie Encounter. — Sixteen Vessel.s Engaged. — The British, under Captain 
Barclay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Officers, and with a Superior Force, are Thoroughly 
Beaten by tlie Americans, under Commodore Oliver II. I'erry. — Every British Vessel Cai>- 
tured. — General Harrison Completes the Victorious Work on Land. — Building of the Fleet 
on thu Lake. — Great Difficulties to be Overcome. — Commodore Perry the Master Spirit. — 
Completion and Sailing of the Fleet. — Challenge to the Enemy. — Line of Battle Formed. — 
Perry's Blue Union-Jack. — Its Motto, " Don't Give Up the Ship ! " — Wild Enlhnsiasm of His 
Men. — Flagship Lawrence in the Van. — Meets the Whole Opjwsing Fleet. — Badly Crippled 
in a Two IIouis' Fight. — Ilu/.zas of the Enemy. — The Day Supposed to be Theirs. — Indomi- 
table Resolution of Perry. — He Puts Oti' in an Open Boat. — Reaches the Niagara with His 
Flag. — Again Battles with the Foe. — Severe and Deadly Conflict. — American Prowess Invin- 
cible. — Barclay Strikes His Colors. — Perry only Tweuty-seveu Years Old 234 

XXV. 

Conquest and Burning of Washington, by the British. — 1814. 
Precipitate Flight of the President of the United States, and His Cabinet. — The Capitals of 
Europe Protected from Fire and Devastation by Their Conquerors. — Contrast of British War- 
fare in America. — The Capitol, Presidential Mansion, etc., Sacked and Fired. — National In- 
dignation Aroused by these Barbarities. — Veterans from Europe's Battle-Fields Execute 
these Deeds. — Oideis to " Lay Waste " the American Coast. — Operations at the South. — 
Washington the Prize in View. — Inefficiency of its Defense. — Winder and Barney in Com- 
mand. — The Idea of an .Vtt.ick .Scouted. — Onward March of the Inviuler.s. — Fearful Excite- 
ment in the City.— High Officials in Camp. — The Armies at Bladensburg. — Windi-r De- 
feated, Barney Taken. — Ross's Progress Unopposed. — Complete Master of the City. — A Rush 
for the Sixjils.— British Soldiers in the White House. — They Eat the President's Dinner. — 
Cockburn's Bold Infamy.— Retreat of the Vandal Foe. — Their March upon Baltimore. — Ross 
Shot Dead in the Fight • 242 

XXVI. 

McDonough's Naval Victory on Lake Champlain. — 1814. 
The Projected British Invasion of the Northern States, by Land and Water, Frustrated by an 
Overwhelming Blow on their Favorite Element. — Most Unexpected and Mortifying Result 
to the Enemy's Pride. — Not One of the Seventeen British Ensigns Visible Two Hours After 
the Opening of the Action by Downie. — McDonough's Laconic Me.s.sage. — British Advance 
on New York. — Grand Scheme of Conquest. — Picked Men Employed. — (ireat Land and 
Naval Force. — Their Fleet on Lako Champlain. — Downie, a Brave Officer, Commands. — 
Flushed Confidence of Victory. — Pleasure Parties to " See the Fight." — Pluck of Commo- 
dore McDonough.— His Prayer on the Eve of Battle. — Strange and Beautiful Omen. — Us 
Inspiriting Effect on the Men. — MclXinough Sights the First (iun. — The Flag>liips in Clo.se 
Grapple. — Their Asjject Like a .Sheet of Fire. — Tremendous Cannonade. — The Two Fleets 
in Full Action. — Desperate Situation of Both. — McDonough's Extraordinary Resort. — 
Downie Completely Circumvented. — At the Mercy of the Americans. — No J^nglish Flag on 
the Lakes 2M 

XXVIL 
General Jackson's Terrible Rout and Slaughter of the British Army, at New 

Orleans. — 1815. 
His Consummate Generalship in the Order and Conihict of this Camp.iign. — The AVar with 
England Ti'rminated by a Sudden and Spli'ndid Victory to the Ami-rican Arms. — Jackson is 
Hailed as One of the Greatest of Modern Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior 
of Ills Country. — National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisii'e Battle. — Briti.sh Inva- 
«ion of Louisiana. — Preparations to Ri'sist Them. — Jackson H.istens to New Orleans. — His 
Presence luspires Confidence. — Martial Law Proclaimed. — Progress of the British Forces. — 



CONTENTS. 25 

They Rendezvous at Ship Island. — Pirates and Indians for Allies. — Capture of the United 
States Flotilla. — Arrival of Veterans from England. — Desperate Attempts at Storming. — 
Both Armies Face Each Other. — The Day of Action, January Eighth. — General Pakenham 
Leads the Charge. — His Motto, "Booty and Beauty." — Fire and Death Open Upon Them. — 
They Are Movpn Down Like Grass. — Pakenham Falls at the Onset. — Panic and Precipitate 
Retreat. — America's !Motto, " Victory or Death." — The Result at Home and Abroad. — Start- 
ling and Impressive Effect 257 

XXVIIL 

The Ever-Memorable September Gale. — 1815. 
Its Violence and Destructiveness without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country. — 
Terror Excited by its Sudden and Tumultuous Force.— Unprecedented Phenomena of Tem- 
pest, Deluge and Flood. — One Hour of Indescribable Havoc on the Land and Sea. — Premon- 
itory Indications. — Hea\-y North-east Rains. — Sudden and Violent Changes of "Wind. — Its 
Rapidity and Force Indescribable. — Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchards and 
Forests Instantly Uprooted. — Raging and Foaming of the Sea. — Its Spray Drives like a 
Snow-Storm over the Land. — Tremendous Rise in the Tides. — Irresistible Impetuosity of the 
Flood. — Several Feet of Water in the Streets. — Innumerable Fragments Fill the Air. — Flight 
for Safety to the Fields. — The whole Coast Swarms with "Wrecks. — Perils, Escapes, Fatali- 
ties.— Peculiar Meteorological Facts.— Bright Skies in the Midst of the Tempest. — Suffo- 
cating Current of Hot Air. — Sea Fowls in the Depths of the Interior. — Effect upon Lands, 
Crops, and Wells. — All New England Desolated. — Comparison with Other Gales. . . 264 



XXIX. 

Visit of Lafayette to America, as the Guest of the Republic. — 1824. 
His Tour of Five Thousand Miles through the Twenty-four States. — A National Ovation on 
the Grandest Scale. — Cities, States, Legislatures and Governors, Vie in Their Demonstrations 
of Respect. — The Venerable Patriot Enters the Tomb and Stands beside the Remains of his 
Great Departed Friend, Washington. — Noble Qualities of the Marquis. — A Favorite of 
Louis XVI. — Hears of the Battle of Bunker Hill. — Pleads the Cause of the Americans. — 
Resolves to Join their Army. — Freely Consecrates his Vast Wealth. — Equips a Vessel and 
Embarks. — Introduced to General Washington. — Admiration of Him by the Chieftain. — One 
of Washington's Military Family. — A Major-General in His Nineteenth Year. — Heroic Fi- 
delity During the War. — Subsequent Vicissitudes in France.^America's Heart-felt Sym- 
pathy.— He Leaves Havre for New York. — Enthusiasm Excited by his Presence. — Incidents, 
Interviews, Fetes. — Greetings with Old Comrades. — Memories Joys and Tears. — Departs in 
the United States Ship Lafayette. — His Death in 1831. — National Grief 272 



XXX. 

Duel between Hexry Clay, Secretary of State, and John Randolph, United 
States Senator from Virginia. — 1826. 

Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate.— Accuses him of Falsifying an 
Official Document.— The Puritan and " Blackleg " Taunt.— Clay Challenges the Senator to 
Mortal Combat. — Words and Acts of these Two Foremost Men of their Times, on the " Field 
of Honor." — Result of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of these Party Leaders. — Ancient Politi- 
cal Antagonists. — Origin of the Present Dispute. — Randolph's Gift of Sarcasm. — Applies it 
Severely to Clay —Clay Demands Satisfaction.— Reconciliation Refused.— Bladensburg the 
Dueling Ground. — Pistols the Weapons Chosen. — Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend. — Inci- 
dents the Night Before.— Randolph's Secret Resolve.— Going to the Field of Blood.— View 
of this Shrine of " Chivalry." — .Salutations of the Combatants. — Solemn Interest of the 
Scene. — Distance Ten Paces. — A Harmless Exchange of Shots. — Clay Calls it "Child's 
Play ! "—Another Fire. — No Injury.— " Honor" Satisfied. — Pleasant Talk with Each 
Other 282 



26 CONTENTS. 

xxxr. 

Fiftieth Asxiversary axd CKLEnitATiox of the Ixdepexdexce of the 

Republic— 1826. 
Suddun and Simultaneous Death of Ex-Pre.-iidciits John Adams and Thoma.s Jefferson, its Two 
Most Ilhistiious Founders. — The Day of Kisiiunding Joy and Jubilee Changed to One of 
Profound National Sorrow. — Xo Historical I'aiallel to Such a Remarkable Coincidence. — 
World-Renowned Career of these Statesmen. — Extraordinary Preparations for the Day. — 
Adams and Jefferson then Alive. — Sires and Patriarchs of the Nation. — Their Names House- 
hold Words. — Invited to Share in the Festivities. — They Hail the Glorious Morn. — Great 
Rejoicings; Death's Sumnmns. — Jefferson's Distinguishing Honor.— Adams's Patriotic Lus- 
ter. — Tlieir lm[)eri.shable D.-'eds. — Calm Yet High Enthusiasm. — Hostile Li'aders in After- 
Life. — Racy and Piquant Anecdote. — Crisis Point in Adams's Fortunes. — His Last Toast 
for His Country, — " Independence Forever." — Twp Sages in Old Age. — Serenity, Wisdom, 
Dignity. — Former Friendship Revived. — Letters of Mutual Attachment. — European Admir- 
ation Excited. — Reverence to Their Colossal Fame • 291 

XXXII. 
The "Great Debate" between Webster and Hayxe, in Congress. — 1830. 
Vital Constitutional Issues Discu.s.sed.— Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Elo- 
quence. — Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be the Grandest Forensic Achievement in the 
AVhole Range of Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — Golden Age of American OratoiT. — Un- 
precedented Interest and Excitement Produced in the Public Mind. — No American Debate 
Comparable witli This. — Known as "The Battle of the Giants." — Inflamed Feeling at tlie 
South. — Ilayne's Uiilliant Chanipionsliip. — His .Speech Against the North. — Profound Im- 
pression Created. — Its Dash, Assurance, Severity. — Ritter and Sweei)ing Charges. — His Ojv 
ponents Wonder-Struck. — Webster has the Floor to Rejily. — An Ever-Memoiable Day. — 
Intense Anxiety to Hear Him. — JIagnificent Personal Appearance. — His Exordium; All 
Hearts Enchained. — Immense Intellectual Range. — Copious and Crushing Logic. — Accumu- 
lative Grandeur of Thought. — Thrilling .\iK)stroplie to the Union. — The Serious, Comic, 
Pathetic, etc. — Hayne's Argument Demolished.— Reception Accorded the Speech. — Rival 
Orators ; Pleasant Courtesies 297 

xxxm. 

Rise and Progress of the Mormons, or " Latter-Day Saints," under Joscrn 
Smith, the "Pkoi-iiet of the Lord."— lS3i). 

His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Apostles Sent Forth and Con- 
verts Obtained in All Parts of the World. — Founding and Distructionof Nauvoo, the '• City 
of Zion." — .Smith's Character. — Removal to Utah, the " Promised Land." — Smith the " Mo- 
hammed of the West." — His Origin and Repute. — Pretended Supernatural Interviews. — 
Revelations of Divine Records. — Finds and Translates Them. — Secret History of this 
Transaction. — Pronounced to be a Fraud. — Teachings of the Mormon Bible.— Smith Claims 
to be Inspired. — -Vnnounccd as a Sccon<l Savior. — Organization of the First Church. — 
Strange Title .Vdopted.— Smith's Great Personal Influence. — Rapid Increase of the Sect. — 
Settlement at the West. — Violent Opposition to Them. — Outrtiges, Assa.ssinations, Riots. — 
Polygamy " Divinely " Authorized. — Smith in Jail .as a Criminal. — Is Shot Dead by a Furi- 
ous Mob. — Brigham Young His Successor. — Tlie " New Jerusalem." 306 

XXXIV. 
Career, Capture, and Execution of Ginns, the Most Noted Pirate of the Cen- 
tury.— 18:J1. 
His Bold, Enterjirising, Desperate, and Successful War, for !Many Y'ears, Against the Com- 
merce of All Nations.— Terror Inspired by His Name as the Scourge of the Ocean and tlie 
Enemy of Mankind. — Scores of Vessels T.iken, PlundiTcil and Destroyed. — Their Crews 
and Pa.ssengers, Male and Female, Instantly Butchered. — Gibbs Born in Rhode Island. — 



CONTENTS. 27 

Joins the Privateer Maria. — Captures Her in a Mutiny. — Hoists the Black Flag. — Gibbs 
Chosen Leader. — Rendezvous at Cape Antonio. — Booty Sold in Havana. — No Lives Spared. 
— One Beautifid Girl Excepted. — Atrocious Use JLade of Her.— The Maria Chased All Day. 
— Her Final Abandonment. — A New Craft : Rich Prizes. — Fight with a United States 
Frigate. — Gibbs Overmatched and Flees. — Fatal Voyage in the Vineyard. — Lands at South- 
ampton, L. T. — His Infamy Brought to Light. — Arrested with His Treasure. — Confes.sion of 
His Guilt. — Black Record of Crime and Blood.— Close of His Ill-starred Life. . . . 314 

XXXV. 

Nullification Outbreak in South Carolina, under the Lead of Calhoun, 
McDuFFiE, Hayne, and Others. — 1832. 

State Sovereignty, instead of the Federal Government, Claimed by Them to be Supreme. — 
The AVrath of President Jackson Aroused. — His Stern and Heroic Will Upholds the Na- 
tional Authority and Saves tlie L'nion from Anarchy and from the Perils of Dismember- 
ment. — Jlomentous Nature of this Contest. — The Tariff a Rock of Offense. — Action in the 
" Palmetto " State. — Anti-National and Defiant. — Pacific Proposals Scouted. — A Political 
Dinner in Washington. — Jackson's and Calhoun's Toasts. — Plan of the Conspirators. — A 
Bomb-shell in Their Camp. — Convention of Agitators in Columbia. — Nullification Ordinance 
Passed. — "Old Hickory" Bold and Re.soIute. — His Peremptory Proclamation. — .South Caro- 
lina's Counter-Blast. — L'nited States Troops Sent to Charleston. — Presidential Idea of Com- 
promising. — Clay's Conciliation Scheme. — Tiie Leading Nullifiers in Danger. — Jackson 
Threatens to Hang Them. — They are Roused from Bed at Midnight. — Two Alternatives 
Presented. — Swallowing a Bitter Pill 320 

XXXVL 

Sublime Meteoric Shower all over the United States. — 18.33. 
The jMost Grand and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded by Man. — The 
AVhole Firmament of the Universe in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. — Amazing Veloc- 
ity, Size, and Profusion of the Falling Bodies. — Their Intense Heat, A'ivid Colors, and 
Strange, Glowing Beauty. — Unequaled in Every Respect. — Cloudless Serenity of the Sky. — 
The People Wonder-Struck. — Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignor- 
ant. — Conflagration of the World Feared. — Impromptu Prayer-Meetings. — Prodigious Star 
Shower at Boston. — Myriads of Blood-Red Fire-balls. — The Disi:ilay at Niagara Falls. — Blaz- 
ing Heavens, Roaring Cataracts. — Some of the Meteors Explode. — Trains of Light in their 
Track. — Radiant Prismatic Hues. — Substance Compo-ing these Bodies. — Dissipated by 
Bursting. — One Great Central Source. — Velocity, Four INIiles a Second. — Novel Shapes and 
Motions. — Hotter than the Hottest Furnace. — Possible Result to the Earth. — Half a Conti- 
nent in Presumed Jeopardy 329 

XXXVIL 

Attempted Assassination of President Jackson, at the United States Capitol 
in Washington, by Richard Lawrence. — 1835. 

Failure of the Pistols to Discharge. — The President Rushes Furiously upon His Assailant, and 
is Restrained from Executing Sunniiary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostil- 
ity .Supposed, at first, to Jiave Instigated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to be a Lunatic, without 
Accomplices. — His History and Trial. — Funeral of a Member of Congress. — Great Concourse 
at the Capitol. — President Jack.son and Cabinet Present. — Lawrence Enters during the Ser- 
mon. — Moves to the Eastern Portico. — President Jackson Leaves with Secretarj- AVoodbury. 
— Their Carriage at the Portico Steps. — Approach to Lawrence's Position. — He Levels a 
Pistol at Jack.son. — Explosion of the Percussion Cap. — A Second Pistol Snapped. — Jackson 
Raises His Cane Fiercely. — Lion-like Energy of the Old Hero. — Is with Difficulty Kept Back. 
— Lawrence Stunned and Secured. — His Perfect Calmness through All. — The Crowd Wish to 
Kill Him. — Fine Appearance of the Assassin. — Frank Avowal of His Motives. — Insane Idea 
Possessing Him. — Claims to be a King. — Is Confined in a Mad-house 337 



28 CONTENTS. 

XXXVI 1 1. 
Morse's Invention* of the Electric Telegraph. — 1835. 
Realization of the Highest Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure, and Operation 
of tile Machine. — Net- Work of Lines Establi.shed Over the Four Continents. — The Inventor's 
E.\perinicnts, Labors, Discouragements, and Triumphs. — "Orders of Glory," Gifts, and 
Other Honors, Bestowed ufwu Him by Crowned Heads. — Casual Origin of the Invention. — 
Mr. Morse's European Voyage in 18:52. — Recent French Experiment:* then Discussed. — Im- 
portant Question and Answer. — Two Great Existing Facts. — The Electric Spark Transmis- 
sive. — EiU-iy Control of the Current. — Theory Applied to Pnictice. — Completion of a Crude 
Model. — Private Exhibition in 1835. — Simplicity of the Instrument. — The Invention Made 
PiiUlic in 18:!". — Wonder and Incredulity. — Appeal to Congress for Pecuniary Aid. — Merci- 
less Ridicule Ensues. — Scene in the Committee-Room. — A Machine at the Capitol. — Perfect 
in Its Operation. — Success of Morse's Appeal. — His Joy at the Decision. — Putting Up the 
Wires to Baltimore — First Message Through 345 

XXXIX. 

Tremendous Fire in New York City. — 1835. 
Its Destructiveness Unparalleled, up to this Period, in the Western World. — Resistless Devas- 
tation for Sixteen Hours in Midwinter. — A Pall of Ruin and Desolation over the Richest 
Business Locality in America. — Nearly Seven Hundred Warehouses, Filled with Costly Mer- 
chandise, and the Commerce of Every Clime. Laid in Ashes. — Loss Upwards of Eighteen 
Millions. — Peculiar Seat of this Fire. — The Money Center of America. — Breaking Out in the 
Evening. — Fury of the North Wind. — The F'lames Spread Violently.— Bitter and Intense 
Cold. — Freezing of the Engine Water. — All the Elements Hostile. — Human En<leavors Pow- 
erless. — Acres on F'ire at Midnight. — Sweeps from Point to Point. — Mingled Horror and 
Sublimity. — Efforts to Save the Exchange. — Fate of that Splendid Pile. — Fall of its Magniti- 
cent Dome. — Numberless Reverses of Fortune. — Rich Men Made Penniless. — A Singular 
Exception. — Swarms of Bold Robbers. — Military Protection Required. — Discovery of a 
Diabolical Crime. — Supposed Cause of the Fire 353 

XL. 
Struggle for the Rigut of Petition in Congress. — 1836. 
John Quincy Adams, the "Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single- 
Ilanded, in its Defense in the House of Representatives. — Pass.age of the "Gag Rule." — Ex- 
pulsion and Assa-ssination Threatened. — His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed 
before in the Halls of Legislation. — Triumph of His Master Mind. — The Right of Petition a 
Constitutional One. — Indiscriminate and Unrestricted. — Anti-Slavery Petitions. Mr. Ailams 
Their Champion. — An UniMpular Position. — He Defies Every Menace. — His Bold and In- 
trepiil Conduct. — The North and South at Variance. — Monster Petitions Pour In. — A Me- 
morial from Slaves. — WiM Tumult in the House. —Cries of "Expel the Old Scoun<lrel I " — 
Proposal to Censure and Disgrace Him. — Mr. Ailams Umnoved Amidst the Tempest. — Elo- 
quence and Indomitableness. — A Petition to Dis.solve the Union. — Increased Exasperation. 
— Violent and Denunciatory Debate. — Sublime Bearing of Mr. Adams. — Vindicated and 
Victorious at Last — What He Lived to See. — Honor from His Opponents 302 

XLI. 

Passage of Benton's Famous "Expunging Resolution," in the U. S. Senate, after 
A Three Years Parliamentary Struggle. — 1837. 

Vindication of President Jackson against tlie Condemnatory Sentence Passed by that Body in 
18:il, for His Rionoval of the Government Deposites. — .Strong Black Lines are Drawn Around 
Said Sentence, by the Secretary, in the Presence of the Senate and of a Vast and Tumultu- 
ous Crowd, at Midnight. — Opposition to the United States Bank. — Jackson's Jlessage against 
It. — Public Opinion Divided. — Congress Grants a Charter. — Presidential Veto of this Bill. — 
J.ickson Denounces tlie Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt. — Orders the United States Funds 
Removed. — Secretary Duane Declines to Act. — Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys. — Fierce 



CONTEXTS. 29 

Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Stormy Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jackson.— Resolu- 
tion to this Effect Passed.— Benton's Motion to Expunge. — He Follows it up Unceasingly.— 
His Consummate Tact.— Approach of tlie Decisive Hour.— Excited Crowds Pour In.— Triumph 
of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Resolve. — Strange and Impressive Scene. . . 373 

XLII. 

Magxificent Auror.a. Borealis E.vcoMPAssiNG THE Whole Firmamext to its Far- 
thest BouxDS. — 1837. 

A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent 
Auroral Glories Span the Heniispheie. — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty 
Rise from the Horizon to the Zenith. — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an As- 
tonished World, as if Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and Sublimity. — Remarkable 
Duration and Aspects. — Intensely Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. — 
Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of the Phenomenon.— Exquisite Rosy Illumina- 
tion. — The Snow Appears Deep Red. — A Fiery Vermilion Tinge to Nature. — Alarm Pro- 
duced by the Scene.— Great Moving Pillar of Light.— Vivid Streamers in All Directions.— 
Pure White and Brilliant Colors.— Contrast of the Glowing Tints.— Wide Fields of Rainbow 
Hues.— Radiant Beauty Heaven AVide.— Supei-lative Pageant of Splendor.— Perfection of the 
Stellar Form.— Millions of Wondering Observers.— Visible Nearly the Whole Night.— Ac- 
counts from Different Points. — Europe's Share in the Display 379 

XLIIL 

EXPLORIXG E.XPEDITION TO THE SoUTH PoLE, UXDER CoMMAXD OF CaPTAIX ChARLES 

Wilkes, United St.\tes Navy. — 1838. 
First Naval Enterprise of the Kind Ever Undertaken by the American Navy. — The Squadron 
Sails Ninety Thousand Miles in Four years. — Extent and Importance of the Investigations. 
— Discovery of the Great Antarctic Continent. — Other Geographical, Nautical, and Scientific 
Results. — Selection of Officers and Vessels. — A Scientific Corps Organized. — Route Pre- 
scribed ; Seas and Lands. — Enthusiastic Departure. — Arrival at Terra del Fuego. — Observa- 
tions at Cape Horn. — Excursion to the Cordilleras. — Ascent of a Lofty Peak. — Desolation 
and Silence — New Islands Discovered. — An Observatory E.^tablished. — The Samoan Group 
Examined. — Descent into an Extinct Volcano. — New South AVales Visited. — Extreme South- 
ward Cruise. — View of the Ice-Bound Continent. — A Landing Effected. — Account of this 
Achievement. — Experiences at Feejee. — On the Summit of !Mauna-Loa. — Homeward-Bound 
Tracks. — .Safe Arrival 386 

XLIV. 
Breaking Out of the Temperance Reformation.— 1840. 
Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence and Wonderful History of the Movement. — Enthusiasm At- 
tending the " Washingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Rostrum, and 
Sway Multitudes by Their Eloquence.— Father Mathew's Visit.— His 600,000 Converts.— Ca- 
reer of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gough, Dow, and Others.— First Temperance Society in the 
United States. — Singular Terms of Membership. — Social Customs in Former Times. — Unre- 
strained Use of Spirits. — Growing Desire for Reform. — Influential Men Enlisted.— Meetings, 
Societies, Agitation. — A Congressional Organization. — Origin of " Tee-Totalism." — Deacon 
Giles's Distillery.— " My Mother's Gold Ring."— Rise of " Washingtonianism." — Six Re- 
formed Drunkards.— Cold Water Armies, Processions, etc.— Music, Banners, and Badges. — 
The Country All Ablaze. — An "Apostle of Temperance." — Administering the Pledge.— Con- 
flict Concerning Measures. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Taylor's Whiskey Jug. — 
Farragut's Substitute for Grog 393 

XLV. 
Fremont's Heroic Expedition of Discovery to the UTxtracked Region of the 

North-west, Oregon, California, Etc. — 1812. 
llis Exploration of the Sierra Nevada, and of that Wonderful Gateway in the Rocky Mounts 
ains, the South Pass.— Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. 



30 CONTENTS. 

— lie Enriches Every Branch of Xatural Science, and Ilhistrates a Uemote and Boundless 
Country liefore Entirely Unknown. — Fremont a I'ioneer of Emi«ire. — National Oliji'cts of 
this Tour. — Encliunting Itecord of Adventures. — .Surveys and Researches. — llninlioldl's 
Tribute of Admiration. — Wild Grandeur of the Route. — Scenes in this Vast Domain. — 
The Rocky Mouutaius ; First Glimpse. — Formation of the South Pas.s. — '• Kit Carson," the 
Intreiiid Guide.— At the Toimiost Peak, 14,000 Feet.— Startling Boldness of the View.— 
Over|K)wering Quiet and .Solitude. — Evidences of Awful Convulsions. — Unfurling the Flag 
of the Union. — Appearance of (ireat Salt Lake. — Eternal .Snows of the .Sierra Nevada. — In 
the San Joaquin Valley. — An Immense Circuit of Travel. — Fremont, the Modern I'atli- 
Finder. — Uouors from his Countrymen. — A King's Gift and Regards 402 

XLVI. 
Rebellion ix Rhode Island i-xdeu TnoM.\.« W. Dorr. — 1842. 
Dissatisfaction With the (Jld llcstrict^^'d Charter (Jranted by King Charles. — Popular Suffrage 
and Equal Political Privileges Demanded. — Resistance of the Party in Power to these 
Movements. — The Contestants Arm and Take the Field. — Defeat of the Agitators and Flight 
of Dorr. — Ultim.ate Prevalence of Their Principles. — A Charter Two Hundred Years Old. — 
Its Monarchical Provisions. — Suffrage for Property Holders. — Denied t(> all Olliers. — .\n Ex- 
clusive Legislature. — Ret'ormi'd Me.a.sures Demanded. — A People's Convention Called. — 
They Form a Constitution. — Proclaimed the Supreme Law. — Legislature Chosen under It. — 
Thomas W. Dorr Elected Governor. — Is Treated as a Traitor. — Claims to be the People's 
Man. — Governor King's Military Activity. — Dorr Heads a Large Force. — Tries to Seize the 
Reins of Power. — Is Routed ; Quits the State. — Returns Again to the Conflict. — Entrenches 
at Chepachet ; Retreats. — Tried for Treason and Imprisoned. — Pardoned and Restored. — 
Something About " Barn-Burning," or the Anti-Rent Insurrection in New York. . . . 408 

XLVII. 

MfTiNY ON Board the United States Bniii-oK-WAn Somers, Captain A. S. Mac- 
kenzie. — 1812. 

Deep-Laid Plot to Seize the Vessel, Commit Wholesale Murder of Ilcr Men. Raise the Black 
Flag, and Convert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plundered. Burnt, Their Crews 
Butchered, and Women and Girls Ravished. — Midshipman Spencer, Son of a L^iiited StatA 
Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader. — The Chief Cons]iirators Hung at the Yard-Arin. — First 
Mutiny in the United .States Xavy. — Spencer's Hold I'jion His Comrades. — Death the Pen- 
alty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Misplaced. — A Man of Honor Tampered With. 
— Captain Mackenzie Informed of the Plot. — Treats it as Wild and Improbable. — Confronts 
and Questions Spencer. — Orders Him to be Ironed. — Plan Found in His Razor Case. — 
Alarming Disaffection of (he Crew. — None of the Officers Implicated. — Close Investigation 
of the Cise. — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die. — Their Fate Announced to Thera. — 
Spencer's Account of His Life. — They Meet on Their Way to be Hung. — Treatment of 
Each Other. — .Spencer Begs to Give the I.«ist Signal. — Closing Scene of the Tragedy. — All 
Hands Cheer the Ship. — Raising the Banner of the Cross 41o 

XLVIII. 

Sudden Appearance of a Great and Fierv Comet in the Skies at Noonday. — 184;}. 

It Sweeps Through the Heavens, for .Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train lOH.OdO.OOO 
Miles in Length. — Almost Gnizes the Sun, and, after Wliii ling Around that OiU with Pro- 
digious Velocity, Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum. — Its Mysterious Disappear- 
ance in the Unknown Realms and Depths of Space. — Most Notable of all Comets. — First 
Visible in the Day-time. — Its Conspicuous Aspect. — Strange and Chreatening Motion. — Goes 
Twice Around the Sun. — Their Sup|X)sed Contact. — Becomes Red in Passing. — Recedes 
Straight to the Earth. — Watched with Deep Concern. — The Magnetic Ni'edh^ Agitated. — 
Wide Fears of a Collision. — Its Probable Result. — Indian Tenor and Prediction. — Triumphs 
of .\strononiy. — Diameter of the Comet's Head. — Meiisurement of Its Tail. — Stars .Seen 
Through the Train. — Appearance in the Equator. — Like a Stream of MoIl<'n Fire. — Beauti- 
ful Ocean Reflection. — Double Sweep of the Tail. — Other Cometary PhiMiomena. . . 424 



CONTENTS. 31 

XLIX. 

Expected Destruction of the World. — 1843. 
Miller's Exciting Prediction of the Second Advent of Christ. — The Speedy rulfillraeiit of the 
Latter-Day Bible Prophecies Boldly Declared. — Zealous Promulgation of His Views. — Scores 
of Thousands of Converts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by 
Many for the Coming Event. — The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. — 
— His Deism in Early Life. — Studies History and Scripture. — Is btruck by the Prophecies. — 
Reads Daniel and John, Critically. — Calculates Their Time. — "About 1813," the Consumma- 
tion. — Basis of these Conclusions. — Reluctantly Begins to Lecture. — Interesting Incident. — 
His Labors and Enthusiasm. — Three Thousand Lectures in Ten Years. — Secret of his Great 
Success. — Approach of the Final Day. — Cessation of Secular Pursuits. — Encamping in the 
Fields, in Gr ive-yards and on Roofs. — Some Curious Extravagances. — Rebuked by Miller. 
— Repeated Disappointments. — Misinterpretation of Texts. — Miller as a Man and Preacher. 
— His Calm and Happy Death 431 

L. 

Awful Explosion of Commodore Stockton's Great Gun, the " Pe.\cemaker," on 
Board the United States Steamship Princeton. — 1844. 

The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. — 
Miraculous Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoy- 
ment to the Extreuie of Woe. — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship. 
— Her Model and Armament. — Styled the Pride of the Navy — Invitations for a Grand Gala 
Day. — President Tyler Attends. — Countless Dignitaries on Board. — Array of Female Beauty. 
— Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing of the Monster Gun. — Its Perfect Success. — " One 
more Shot ! " by Request. — A Stunning and Murderous Blast. — Bursting of the Gun, — Death 
All Around. — Frightful Shrieks and Groans. — Scattering of ISIangled Remains. — Agony of 
AVoman's Heart. — Standing-Place of the President : Absent Just One Moment. — The Dead 
in Union Flags. — Funeral at the White House 439 

LI. 

Tri.\l and Degradation of the Bishops of the New York and Pennsylvania Dio- 
ceses, for Alleged Immorality, Etc. — 1844. 

These Two Most Powerful Prelates in the Church of Their Order are Struck from the Roll of 
tha Clergy, while in the Zenith of their Fame. — No Parallel Case among Consecrated Digni- 
taries, since the Reformation. — A Case of Melancholy Celebrity. — Extraordinary even to 
Romance. — Other Similar Instances. — Exalted Character of the Bishops.— Venerable Age. — 
Splendid Abilities. — Terrible Effect of the Scandal. — Confession of the Bishop of Pennsyl- 
vania. — Interview with the New York Bishop. — His Alleged Libertinism. — Solemn Arraign- 
ment. — Some of the Evidence Given. — Charged with Gross Improprieties. — Testimony of 
Ladies. — His Acts while Riding to Church. — The House of Ill-Fame Story. — Its Emphatic 
Denial by the Bishop. — Animus of the Whole Movement. — Pleas of the Rival Counsel. — 
Found '• Guilty by His Peers." — Sentence of Suspension Imposed. — Efforts to Restore Him. 
— His Dying Declarations.— Affecting Tributes to His Memoiy, by all Parties. . . . 448 

LIL 
Discovery of the Inhalation of Ether as a Preventive of Pain. — 1846. 
Performance of Surgical Operations Involving the Intensest Torture, During the Happy Un- 
consciousness of the Patient. — Account of the First Capital Demonstration before a Crowded 
and Breathless Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — Thrill of Enthusiastic Joy. — Blost Benefi- 
cent Boon Ever Conferred by Science upon the Human Race. — Instinctive Dread of Pain. — 
Fruitless Search Hitherto for a Preventive. — Terror of the Probe and Knife. — Heroes Quail 
before Them. — Case of the Bluff Old Admiral. — Discovery of the Long-.Sought Secret.— Sul- 
phuric Ether the Prize. — Bliss During Amputation.— Honor Due to America. — A Whole 
World Elated. — Medical Men Exultant.— Curious Religious Objections. — Test-Case in Sur- 
gery. — Startling and Romantic Interest. — Value in Public Hospitals. — War's Sufferings 



32 CONTENTS. 

Ainelioratpd. — A'arious Effects While Inhaling. — Aniusincr iinJ Extraordinary Cases. — 
"Thocht the Dull lla<l a Grip o' Her 1 " — 0<ld Talk of an Innocent Damsel. — Old Folk.s 
Wanting to Dance. — Awards to the Discoverers 450 

LIII. 
Invention of tii.\t Woxdrocs Piece of Mechanism, the Sewing Machine. — 1846. 
Komantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in Its Production. — Toils of the Inventor in His 
Garret. — World-Wide Introduction of the Device. — L'pwards of One Tlumsand Patents 
Taken Out in the United States. — The Industrial Interests of the Country .Vffected to the 
Amount of 8")0(),()()0,()()0 Annually. — The Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. — The 
Main Principle Involved. — Comparison With Hand Sewing. — IIow it was Suggested. — Lis- 
tening to Some Advantage. — History of Mr. Howe's Etforts. — Ingenuity, Struggle!!, Triumphs. 
— Value of a Friend in Need. — A Machine at Last. — Its Parts, Capabilities, etc. — Reception 
by the Public. — Doubt Succeeded by Admiration. — Great Popularity and Demand. — Weari- 
some Litigation With Rivals. — Interesting Question of Priority. — Decided in Howe's Favor. 
— He Rises to Affluence. — Improvements by Others. — Unique and Useful Devices. — Number 
of Machines Produced. — Time and Labor Saved. — Effect Uix)n Prices. — New Avenues of 
Labor Opened 404 

LIV. 
Spiritual Knockings and Table-Tippings. — 1&47. 
Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Beings. — Al- 
leged Revelations from the Unseen World. — Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded 
New York Village, of this Great Modern Wonder. — Its Development Amimg all Nations in 
all Lands. — Astonishing and Inexplicable Char.aetcr of the Manifestations. — First Rajipings 
in Ilydesville, New York. — Time, Manner, Circumstances. — Murdered Man's .Spirit. — IIow 
the Mystery Was Solved. — Rappings, the Spirit Language. — Its Interpretation Discovered. — 
Two Young Girls the " Mediums." — Their Harassed Experience. — Public Efforts to Sift the 
Matter. — No Clue to any Deception. — The Family go to Rochester. — Knockings Accompany 
Them. — New Forms of " Manifestations." — Many Mediums Spring Up. — Things .Strange 
and Startling. — Universal Wonder Excited. — Theories of Explanation. — Investigations and 
Reports. — Views of Agassiz, Ilerschel, etc. — Press and Pulpit Discussions. — Different Opin- 
ions as to the Tendency of the Phenomena. — Thirty Years' History 472 

LV. 

Voyage of the United States Ship Jamestown with a Cargo of Food for the 

Starving in Irkland. — 1817. 

Famine, Pestilence, Woe and Death Sweep Frightfully Over that Land. — Appeal to the Sympa- 
thy of Nations. — The Tale of Horror Borne Across the Atlantic. — S|xintaneous Generosity 
of America. — .V Ship of War Converted into a Ship of I'eace, and Laden with Free Gifts for 
the Suffering. — Total Failure of the Potato Crop. — A Universal Scourge. — Disease Added to 
Destitution — Ghastly Scenes on Every Side. — Multitudes Perish in the Streets. — Parliament 
Grants 8o0,000,000. — The Message of Humanity. — America's Ready Bounties. — Use of the 
Jamestown Granted. — Food Substituted for Guns. — Interesting Bill of Lading. — Departure 
from Boston. — Enthusiastically Cheered. — Only Fifteen Days' Passage. — Going up the Har- 
bor of Cork. — Throngs of Famished Spectators. — Tumultuous Greetings on .\rriv.al. — Public 
Welcomes and Honors. — A Tour of Inspection. — Indescribable Horrors. — Distribution of the 
Cargo. — The Mission a Great Success . 479 

LVI. 
General Scott in the Halls of the Mos-tezumas, as the CoNqnEROR of Mex- 
ico.— 1817. 
General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles from Palo Alto to Buena Vista. — 
Flight of Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight*— The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly 
from the Towers of the National Palace. — First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by the 



CONTENTS. 33 

United States Army. — Peace on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the 
Two Powers. — Disputed Points of Boundarj'. — Mexico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor 
sent to the Rio Grande. — A Speedy Collision. — Declaration of War by Congress. — Santa 
Anna Leads the Mexicans. — Battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. — Raging Fight 
at Monterey ; Its Fall. — Santa Anna's AVar-like Summons. — It is Treated with Contempt. — 
His Awful Defeat at Buena Vista. — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand Miles. — Vera 
Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Churubusco, etc. — Scott's Order, "On to Mexico! " — Huzzas 
and a Quick-Step. — Terrific Storminuj of Chapultepec. — Scott Holds the Key to Mexico. — 
The Last Obstacle Overcome. — Grand Entrance of the Victors. — Territorial Gain to the 
United States 487 

LVIL 

Expedition to the River Jordan and tiik Dead Sea, by Lieut. W. F. Lynch. — 1847. 

The Sacred River Successfully Circumnavigated and Surveyed. — Twenty Days and Nights 
upon the "Sea of Death." — It is Explored, and Sounded, and its Mysteries Solved. — Strange 
Phenomena and Unrelieved Desolation of the Locality. — Important Results to Science. — 
Zeal in Geographical Research. — Interest in the Holy Land. — American Inquiry Aroused. — 
Equipment of Lynch's Expedition. — On its AVay to the Orient. — Anchoring Under Mount 
Carmel. — Passage Down the Jordan. — It is Traced to its Source. — Wild and Impressive 
Scenery. — Rose-Colored Clouds of Judea. — Configuration of the Dead Sea. — Dense, Buoyant, 
Briny Waters. — Smarting of the Hands and Face. — Salt, Ashes, and Sulphureous Vapors, 
etc. — Tradition Among the Arabs. — Sad Fate of Former E.xplorers. — Temperature of tliis 
Sea. — Submerged Plains at its Bottom. — Sheeted with Phosphorescent Foam. — Topography, 
Width and Depth.—" Apples of Sodom " Described.— The Pillar of Salt, Lot's Wiie. . 494 

Lvin. 

Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, California. — 1848. 
Widely-Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits of the Precious Metal. — The News Spreads Like 
Wild-Fire to the Four Quarters of the Globe. — Overwhelming Tide of Emigration from all 
Countries. — Nucleus of a Great Empire on the Pacific. — California Becomes the El Dorado 
of the World and the Golden Commonwealth of the American Union. — First Practical Dis- 
covery of Gold. — On John A. Sutter's Land. — Found by J. W. Marshall. — Simple Accident 
That Led to It. — Marshall's Wild Excitement. — Shows Sutter the Golden Grains. — A Dra- 
matic Interview. — The Discovery Kept Secret. — How it was Disclosed. — A Real Wonder of 
the Age. — Trials of the Eaily Emigrants. — Their Bones Whiten the Soil. — All Professions 
at the Mines. — Impetus Given to Commerce. — Life Among the Diggers. — Disordered State 
of Society. — Crimes, Outrages, Conflagrations. — Scarcity : Fabulous Prices. — Mining by 
Maohiuei-y. — Order and Stability Reached. — Population in 18.57, 600,000. — Gold in Ten 
Years, $600,000,000 500 

LIX. 

AsTOR Place Opera-House Riots, New York. — 1849. 
Terrible Culmination of tlie Feud betvt'een Macready, the English Star Actor, and Forrest, the 
Great American Tragedian. — Macready Commences to Perform, but is Violently Driven 
from the Stage. — A Mob of 20,000 Men Surrounds the Theater, and Tlniuders at its Doors. 
— Attempt to Fire and Destroy tlie House. — Charge of the Military. — Lamentable Loss of 
Life.— Fame of these Great Actors.— Their Former Mutual Friendship.— Macready's Tour 
in this Countiy. — Forrest Performs in Europe. — Professional Jealousies Aroused. — Open 
Rupture at Last. — Macready Again in America. — Engages to Play in New York. — Opposi- 
tion to Him There. — Appeals on the Stage, May Eightli. — Fierce Tumult in the House. — 
Groans, Hisses, Insults.— He Stands Undismayed.— Flight of the Audience.— Re-appearance, 
May Tenth.— The House Filled to the Dome.— Riotous Yells and Cries.—" Down with the 
British Hog ! " — Heroic Dameanor on the Stage.— Threats of the Raging Mob.— Its Bloody 

Dispersion. — Macready Leaves the Country 508 

3 



34 CONTENTS. 

LX. 

Awful Visitations of tiie "Axoei. of Death." — 1849. 
Yellow Fever and Cholera Epidemics at Different Periods.— Frightful Mortality and Panic in 
181(1. — Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted.— Proc- 
lamation by the President of the United States. — The A'irtues, Pa.ssions, and Vices of Hu- 
man Nature Strikingly Illustrated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Onoe from the Face of the 
Earth. — Various Eras of American Epidemics.— Wide and Ghastly Ravages.- Self-Preserva- 
tion the First Law. — Social Intercourse Suspended. — Ties of Affection Sundered. — Parents 
Forsake Children. — Husbands Flee from 'Wives. — Rich Men Buried like Paupers. — Money 
and Rank Unavailing. — Rumble of the Dead-Carts. — Activity in the Grave-yards. — They 
Look as if Plowed Up. — Women in Childbirth IbOpless. — Their Screams fur Succor. — Care 
of a Lunatic Patient. — Tlie Tender Passion Still Alive.— Courageous Marriages. — Death in 
the Bridal Chamber.— Anecdotes of the Clergy. — Crime, Filth, and Disease.— Quacks and 
Nostrums Rife. — The Celebrated " Thieves' Vinegar." 515 

LXL 

MuRDbit OF Dr. George Parkman, a Noted Milliox.\ire of Boston, by Prof. Joiix 
W. Webster, of Harvard College. — 1849. 

HiL,'li Social Position of the Parties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, 
in the Coinmunitv, on the Discovei-y of the Deed. — Remarkable Chain of Circumstances 
Leading to the Murderer's Detection. — .Solemn and Exciting Trial. — Account of the Mortal 
Blow and Disposal of the Remains. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame.— Mysterious Disappear- 
ance, November Twenty-third. — Appointment with Professor Webster that Day. — Their Un- 
happy Pecuniary Relations. — Search for the Missing Millionaire. — Webster's Call on Park- 
man's Brother. — Explains the Interview of November Twenty-third. — No Trace of Parkman 
After that Date. — The Medical College Explon^d. — Scene in Webster's Rooms. — The Tea- 
Chest, Vault, and Furnace. — Human Remains Found There. — Identified as Doctor Park- 
man's. — Arrest of Webster at Night. — Attempt at Suicide on the Spot. — Behavior in Court. 
— His Atrocious Guilt Proved. — Rendering the Verdict. — He Boldly AdJres.ses the Jury. 
— Asserts his P^ntire Innocence. — Final Confession of the Crime. — Hung Near the Spot 
of his Birth. — The Similar and Tragical Case of John C. Colt, Muiderer of S.imuel 
Adams 523 

LXIL 
TuE United States Grinnell Expeditions of 1850 and 1853, to the Arctic 

Seas.— 1850. 
Search for Sir John Franklin, the Lost Navigator. — Traces of His Melancholy and Mysterious 
Fate. — Dr. Kane's Discovery of an Open Polar Sea, Three Thousand Square Miles in Area. — 
The "Great Glacier," a Lofty and Diizzling Ice-Wall of Boundless Dimensions. — The "Stars 
and Stripes" Carried Farther North than Any Other Flag. — Origin of this Undertaking. — 
Franklin's Bold Enterprise. — No Tidings of Him for Years. — Vessels Sent in Search. — Lady 
Franklin's Warm .\piie;il.— Mr. (Jrinnell's Noble Response. — Fits Out DeHaven's Expedi- 
tion. — .Sailing of the Advance and Rescue.— Franklin's Winter Quarters Found.— Dellaven 
Imbedded in Ice.— Eighty Days Polar Darkness.— Fruitless Efforts ; Return Home.— Renewed 
Search by Dr. Kane.— At the Extreme Solitary North.— Its Terror and Sublimity.— Mer- 
cury "and Whiskey Freeze Solid.-rNo Sunlight for Five Months.— A Vast Crystal Bridge.— 
It Connects Two Continents.— Kane lee-Bound ; Awful Perils.— One Thousand Three Hun- 
dred Miles Traveled in Sledges. — Final Escajie ; Arrival Home. — Dr. Hayes's Heroic Ad- 
veutiu'es 533 

LXIIL 
Brilliant JIvsical Tour of Jenny Lind, the "Swedish Nightingale."— 1850. 
This Queen of Song Comes under the Auspices of Mr. Barnum.— Twenty Thous.ind Persons 
Welcome Her Arrival.— Transcendent Beauty and Power of Her Voice. — A Whole Continent 
Enrai>tured with Her Enchanting Melodies.- Pleasant Exhilaration of Feeling Throughout 



CONTENTS. 35 

the Land by the Presence of the Fair Niglitingale. — Honors from Webster, Clay, and Other 
Dignitaries. — Her Praises Fill tlie Wide World. — The Vocal Prodigy of the Age. — An Opera, 
the '■ Daughter of the Regiment." — Barnum's Happy Conception. — Proposes to Her this 
American Tour. — His Generous Terms Accepted. — She Reaches New York. — Sunny and Joy- 
ous Outburst. — A Real " Jenny-Lind " Era. — First Concert at Castle Garden. — Tempest of 
Acclamation. — Encores, Showers of Bouquets. — Public Expectation Exceeded. — Jenny's Com- 
plete Triumph. — All the Receipts Given to Charity. — Equal Enthusiasm Everywhere. — Beau- 
tiful Incidents. — She is a Guest at the White House. — Henry Clay at Her Concert. — Web- 
ster and the Niglrtingale. — A Scene " Not Down on the Bills." — Ninety-five Concerts Yield 
$700,000 • 541 

LXIV. 
Reign op the Vigilance Committee in California. — 1851. 
Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Regular 
Authorities. — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent.— The Committee's Secret 
Chamber of Judgment. — Sudden Seizure and Trial of Noted Criminals. — Solemn Tolling of 
the Signal Bell. — Swift and Terrible Executions. — Renovation of Society. — Swarming of 
Desperate Felons. — England's Penal Colonies Emptied. — Organized Society of " Hounds." — 
A Band of Cut-throats. — Society at Their l^Iercy. — Harvests Reaped by Them. — Corrupt 
Courts and Officers. — The Vigilance Committee Formed. — Prompt, Resolute, Powerful. — The 
Criminals Taken Unawares. — Instant Summons to Death. — A Gallows at Midnight. — Ex- 
traordinary Horrors. — Confessions by the Victims. — Astounding Revelations. — Magistrates 
Implicated. — Warnings by the Committee. — A Double Execution. — Thousands of Spectators. 
— Wild Shouts of Approval. — The Lavv'less Classes Terrified. — The Results of the Move- 
ment 550 

LXV. 
Victorious Race of the Y''aciit " America," in the Great International 

Regatta. — 1851. 

She Distances, hy Nearly Eight Miles, the Whole Fleet of Swift and Splendid Competitors, 
and Wins " the Cup of all Nations." — Grandest and Most Exciting Spectacle of the Kind 
Ever Known. — Queen Victoria Witnesses the Match. — Universal Astonislmient at the Result. 
— Admiration Excited by the " America's " Beautiful Model and Ingenious Rig. — Scenes at 
the " World's Exhibition " at London. — Grand Finale Y'et to Come Off. — Championship of 
the Sea. — England Sensitive on this Point.— Her Motto, "Rule Britannia ! "—George Steers 
Builds the America. — Commodore Stevens Takes Her to England.— His Challenge to all 
Countries. — An International Prize Race. — Eighteen Yachts Entered. — The Scene on Wave 
and Shore.— All Sails Set: The Signal.— Every Eye on " the Y'ankee."— Her Leisurely Move- 
ments. — Allows Herself to be Distanced.— Her Quality Soon Shown. — No "Bellying" of 
Canvas. — Amazing Increase of Speed. — All Rivals Passed, One by One. — They Return in 
Despair. — Great Odds for the America. — Is Visited by Queen Victoria 558 

LXVI. 

Frightful Catastrophe in a New York Five-Story Public School-Hotjse Contain- 
ing Eighteen Hundred Pupils. — 1851. 

Panic Caused by a Call for " AVater."— Furious Rush of the Little Ones Throughout the Vast 
Building, to Escape the Supposed Fire. — The Stair Railing Breaks, and They are Precipitated 
to the Bottom, in Helpless Agony.— Nearly Fifty Children, in Their Beauty and Innocence 
Suffocated to Death. — Hundreds of F.amilies in ^Mourning. — Slight .Source of all this Horror. 
—Sudden Illness of a Teacher.— Cries of " Help ! " for Her.— Heard in the Other Rooms. — 
Fatal Misapprehension.— Instant and Awful Fright. — Vain Attempts to Escape. — They all 
Pour Forth at Once.— The Street>Door Ixieked !— Bewildered Crowds.— Their Hea<llong 
Descent. — A Pile of Bodies Fourteen Feet Square. — Their Sighs and Writhings. — Arrival of 
the Firemen.— Entiance Effected by Them.— Thousands Waiting Outside.— Indescribable 
Excitement. — Anguish of Parents. — Rescuing the Sufferers. — Scenes Among the Little Ones. 
— Sweet and Tender Devotion. — Burial of the Innocents 567 



36 CONTENTS. 

LXVIL 

Appeakaxce of the Marine Monster Known as the Sea-Serpent, along the At- 
lantic Coast. — IS'A. 

Statements of Xiunerous Eye-Witnesses, as to Its Form, Size, Color, and Movements. — Esti- 
mated Length, One Hundred Feet. — Its Body Cylindrical in Sliaix*, ami of the Diameter of 
a Large Cask. — Effect of Shot uiion the Animal. — Astcmishing Kapiditv of Its Course. — 

Oli.serveis Struck with 'Wonder and Awe at Such a Sight. — 'I'he Monarch of the Deep. 

Opinions of .Scientific Men. — E.xistenco of the Animal Proved. — Evidence on this Point. 
— Relialiility of the Witnesses. — Their Various Descriptions. — Concurrence of Testimony. — 

No Similar Sea Animal.— Seen in Different Localities. — Observj^l from Sea and Shore. 

F'requents New England. — Nearer Views Obtained of II im.— Clear Weather. Smooth Seas. 
— Drawings Made on the Six)t. — His Gigantic Dimension.s. — Linna'an Society's Rc[)ort. — 
Supposed to 1)1! the " Loviatliuii." — His Steady and Onward Pace. — A Mile in Three Min- 
utes. — Attitude of the Body. — Elevation of the Head. — Dark Brown the Chief Color. . 575 

Lxvin. 

Reception of Goveknor Kossuth, the Gukat IItxcarian E.xile, as the Invited 

Guest of the Nation. — 1851. 

Splendid Militaiy Pageant in New York, on His Arrival. — Welcomed and Banqueted by Presi- 
dent Fillmore. — Keceived with Di.stiiigui.shed Official Honors on the Floor of Congress. — 
He Eloipiently Plea<ls His Country's Cause in All Parts of the Land. — Processions, Congratu- 
latory Addre.s.ses, Acclamations, Etc. — .\ True-IIearted Patriot. — What Hungary Fought 
For. — Austrian Desjiotism Uesisli-il. — Independence Demanded. — Kossuth the Leading 
Champion. — Armies in the Field. — Successes anil Reverses. — Russia's Sword for -\ustria. — 
Kossuth's Flight to Turkey. — Long an E.xile There. — America Interposes for Him. — Offeis 
a Conveyance to the United States. — The Nation's Courtesy Accepted. — Frigate Mississip|ii 
Sent. — Kossuth ami Suite on Board. — His Landing at New York. — Magniticent Preparations 
for Him. — Invited to Wasliington. — Speech before Congress. — An Unprecedented Distinc- 
tion. — His Untiring Labors.— Greatest Orator of the Day 583 

LXIX. 
Naval Expedition to Japan, under Co.mmodore M. C. Perry. — 1852. 
Negotiations to be Opened for Un.sealing the Ports of that Empire to America.— Letter of 
l'riend.sliip from the President of the United States to the Emperor. — Distinguished Favor 
Shown the Representatives of the Great Republic— Ceremonies, Entertainments, and Diplo- 
matic Conferences. — Treaty of Pe;u:o, .\mity, and Connnercial Intercourse Concluded. — 
Former Japanese Isolation Policy. — E.xclusive Privileges to the Dutch. — EITi-cts of this Re- 
striction. — European F^tVorts to Change It. — Mission of Connnodoie Biddle. — Seeks the 
Release of United States Sailors. — Ordered to Depart Forthwith. — Firm Conduct of Captain 
Glynn. — Contempt for Japanese Etiquette. — Champagne as a Mediator. — Commodore Perry's 
Fine F'leet. — The Letter in a Golden Box. — Its Pre.sentation to the Emin-ror. — Commissioners 
Meet Commodore Perry. — Their Attire, Manners, Etc. — Th(! Conference in Session. — Friend- 
liness of the Japanese.— Civilities and Festivals.— Hecejition on the Fhig-Ship.— Substance 
of the Treaty.— A Talk with the Emperor.— More Privileges Extended 502 

LXX. 

EXHIIIITION OP THE INDUSTRY OF AlL NaTIONS, IN NeW YoRK. — 185.3. 

Construction of the Crystal Palace, a Colossal Building of Glass and Iron. — Four Acres of 
Surface Covered with the Tre;isures of Art. .Science ami Mechanism, from Every Land. — 
Inauguration of the Enterprise by President Pierce. — Five Thousainl Contributors. — Splen- 
dor of the Pal.ice of Industry by Day ; Its Gorgeous Illumination at Night.— Eclat of the 
Great Lomlon Fair. — Emulation Slinnilated Abio.id. — An .Vmerican Exhibition Proposed. — 
Popularity of the Idea.— Plan fur a Biiililing .\ccepted.—Its Style, .Sj/e, and Decorations. — 
Admirable Adaptation of the .Structure. — Superiority to the London Palace. — Rapid Prog- 
ress of the Enterprise. — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted. — Programme of Jlanage- 



CONTENTS. 37 

ment. — Brilliant Cei-emony at the Opi-iiing. — Celebrities Present : Speeches Made. — Grand 
Hallelujah Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors.— Beauty, Utility, Amusement. — At- 
tractions from Abroad. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful Offering. — The 
Grand Industries of Civilization. — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Reflected on 
America CUO 

LXXL 

Loss OF THE Splendid Collins Ste.\mship Arctic, of New York, by Collision with 

THE Iron Steamer Vesta. — 1854. 

Occurrence of the Disaster in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog. — Sinking of tlie Noble 
Ship Stern Foremost. — Hundreds of Souls Engulfed in a AVatery Grave. — Experiences 
Crowded Into that Awful Hour. — The Wail of Agony and Despair from the Fated TInong. 
— Her Non-Arrival; Painful Suspense. — The Dreadful News at Last. — Shock to the Public 
Mind. — Strong Build of the Arctic. — Prestige of the Collins Line. — A Casualty Undreamed 
Of. — Surging Crowd in Wall Street. — Names of Lost and Saved Read. — Hope, Joy, Grief, 
Anguish. — The Sad Tale on all Lips. — Captain Luce in the Hour of Woe. — Manliness of 
His First Order. — Ship Deserted by the Crew. — "Every Man for Himself." — A Kaft Con- 
structed, but in Vain. — Courage of the Women. — Not One of their Sex Saved..— Instances 
of Cool Bravery. — An Engineer's Heroic Fidelity. — £.30,000 for a Chance in a Boat. — Pleas- 
ure Tourists on Board. — All of Mr. CoUins's Family Lost 608 

LXXIL 

Ass.\ult on the Hon. Charles Sumner, by Hon. Preston S. Brooks. — 1856. 
Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sum- 
ner's Bare Head. — He .Staggers and Falls, .Senseless, Gashed, and Bleeding. — Sumner's Great 
Kansas Speech for Free .Soil and Free Labor.^Speech by Senator Butler, of South Carolina. 
— Mr. Sumner's Scorching Reply. — South Carolinians Offended. — An Assault Determined 
On. — Mr. Brooks Their Champion. — Two Days' Watch for His Victim. — Finds Ilim Alone at 
His Desk. — Approaches L'nobserved. — A Quick and Deadly Blow. — Mr. Sumner is Instantly 
Stunned. — His Ineffectual Defense. — Brooks's Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage over 
Sumner. — Storm of Public Indignation. — Action Taken by Congress. — Reign of Terror at 
the Capital. — Mr. Surauer's Three Years' Illness. — Recovery.— Illustrious Career. — Death of 
Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retributions 616 

LXXIII. 

Horrible and Mysterious Murder of Dr. Burdell, a Wealthy New York Den- 
tist, in His Own Office. — 1857. 

Fifteen Ghastly Stabs Upon His Body. — Arrest and Trial of Airs. Cunningham, His Land- 
lady and Mistress, for the Crime. — Her Claim to be His Widow and Heiress. — She Secretly 
Borrows an Infant, to which She Pretends to Give Birth as Doctor Biu-dell's Child. — Dis- 
graceful Revelations of Intrigue and Infamy in Fashionable Life. — Shocking Butchery of 
the Doctor. — Found Dead by His Office-Boy. — Bloody Appearance of the Room. — Mrs. Cun- 
ningham's Character. — Unscrupulous and Strong-Minded. — Her Repeated Threats. — Jeal- 
ousies, Hostilities, Sehemings. — Doctor Burdell in Fear for His Life. — Speaks of Her with 
Terror. — The Murder Announced to Mrs. Cunningham. — She Embraces and Kisses the 
Corp.se. — Dark Case for Her in Court. — Insufficient Proof; Acquitted. — New Chapter in the 
Drama. — Her Assumed Pregnancy. — Offers One Thousand Dollars for an Infant.— How It 
was Obtained. — Her Mock Confinement.— Joy over " Her Dear Baby." — Exposure of the 
Daring Plot. — Greatest of New York Murders. — Robinson and Jewett Case 02G 

LXXIV. 

Foundering of the Steamer Central America, in a Gale, off Cape IIatteras. — 1857. 

More than Four Hundred Lives Lost, and Two Million Dollars in Treasure.— Fury and Terror 
of the Tempest.— The Staunch and Noble Vessel Springs a Leak.— Successive Great and 
Terrible Waves Break Over and Drag Her IJnder, in the Night.— The Tale of Peril, Suffer- 



38 CONTENTS. 

iiig, Despair, Parting, ami Death. — Unparalleled Nature of this Disaster. — Hundreds of 
Homes Desolated. — Glcxini of the Public Mind. — The Financial Panic Aggravated — Uise of 
the Fatal (iale. — Hard Labor of the Steamer. — A Leak Caused bj' the .Strain. — Incessant 
AVorkiMg at the Pumps. — Four Anxious Days. — Approach of the Brig Murine. — Women and 
Chihlreu Rescued. — Perils of the Life-Boat. — Terrible Height of the Sea. — Harrowing Ex- 
periences. — The Two Little Babes. — Gradual Filling of the Ship. — Three Plunges, and She 
Sinks. — Captain Herndon on the Wheel-IIouse. — His Sad but Heroic End. — A Night on the 
Waves. — Dead and Living Float Together. — Narratives of the Sui-vivors 0;15 

LXXV. 

TERRinLE CrI.SI9 IN THE BU8INE8S AND FINANCIAL WORLD. — IS.W. 

Known as "the Great Panic." — A .Sudden, Universal Crash, in the Height of Prosperity. — 
Caused by Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Banks all Over the Coun- 
try. — Failure of the 01d(!st and Wealthiest Houses. — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Pros- 
tration of Every Branch of Lidustry. — Prolonged Embarrassment, Distrust, and Suffering. — 
The Panic of 18:37 in Comparison. — Extravagance and High Prices. — Chimerical Railroad 
Schemes. — Mania for Land Investments. — Reckless Stock Gambling. — Western Paper Cities. 
— Fabulous Prices for " Lots." — Money Absorbed in this Way. — Bursting of the Bubble. — 
The First Great Blow. — A Bomb in Money Circles. — Wide-Spread Shock and Terror. 
— Fierce Crowds at the Banks. — A Run Upon Them for Specie. — They " Go to the Wall." — 
Savings Bank Excitement.— Rare Doings at the Counters. — Wit, Mirth, Despair, and Ruin. 
— Forty Thousand Pei-sons in Wall Street. — Factories, Foundries, etc., Stopped. — Business 
Credit Destroyed.— Root of the Whole Ditficulty CU 

LXXVL 

TiiK "Ghkat Awakknixg " IN THE Rei.iuiol's World, and the Popular Movement 
(in 187.V6) under Messrs. Moody and Sankey. — 1857. 

Like a Mighty Rushing Wind, it Sweeps from the Atlantic to the Pacific. — Crowded Prayer- 
Meetings Held Daily in Every City and Town, from the Granite Hills of the North to the 
Rolling Prairies of the West and the Golden Slopes of California. — Large Accessions, from 
all Classes, to the Churches of Every Name and Denomination. — The "American Penteco.st." 
— Early American Revivals. — Dr. Franklin and Mr. Whitelield. — The Revival of 1857 Sjwu- 
taneous. — No Leaders or Organizers. — Its Immediate Cause. — Universal Ruin of Commerce. 
— Anxiety for Higher Interests. — All Days of the Week Alike. — Business Men in the AVork. 
— Telegraphing Religious Tidings. — New York a Centerof Influence. — Fulton Street Prayer- 
Meeting. — Scenes in Burton's Theater.— New Themes and Actors. — Countless Requests for 
Prayers. — A Wonderful Book. — Striking Moral Results. — Men of Violence Reformed. — 
Crime and Suicide Prevented.— Infidels, Gamblers, Pugilists.— Jessie Fremont's Gold Ring. 
— "Awful " Gardner's Case 653 



LXXVIL 

Unrivaled Perkormances by Paul Mdrimiv, the American Chess Champion. — 1858. 

His Extreme Youth, Marvelous Gifts and Genius, and Astonishing Trumphs.— The Most 
Renowned Players in America an<l Europe Vamiuished by Hin\. — His Wonderful Victories 
in Blindfold Games with the Veteran Masters of Chess. — Morphy's Bust Crowned with 
Laurel in Paris. — Honors and Testimonials at Home. — Morphy's Personal IIist<iry. — Early 
Aptness for Chess. — Skill When Twelve Years Old. — Introduction to the Public. — At the 
National Chess Congre.ss. — Great Chamjiions There. — Morphy Takes the First Prize. — Wins 
Eighty-One out of Eighty-Four Games. — Professional Visit Abroatl. — Challenges the Chess 
Celebrities. — His Boyish ,\])pearance. — Modesty and Great Memory. — Aspect When at Play. 
— His Brilliant Combinations. — Feats Performed in Paris. — Ix)ng and Profound Gaines. — 
Great Match Against Eight. — Unparalleled Spectacle. — Victor Over Every Rival. — Without 
A Peer ill the World. — Bannuets to Him in Europe. — America Proud of Her Son. . . 660 



CONTENTS. 39 

LXXVIII. 
Burning of the Steamship Aitstria, on Her Way from Hamburg to New- 
York.— 1858. 
She Takes Fire on the Eleventh Day, from Combustion of the Hot Tar Used in Fumigation. — 
Three Djcks Instantly in a Blaze. — Inability to Stop the Engines. — The Ship Continues on Her 
Course in Fui'ious Flames. — Torture and Death in Every Form. — Nearly Five Hundred Men, 
Women, and Children Lost. — A Hot Chain in the Bucket of Tai-. — Sudden and Singular Ig- 
nition. — Rapid Headway of the Flames. — They Leap up the Shrouds. — Powerlessness of the 
Officers. — The Captain Panic-Stricken. — Frantic Conduct of Passengers. — Swamping of the 
Boats. — Children Trodden Under Foot. — Writhing in the Heat. — Shrieks and Cries. — Being 
Roasted Alive. — Only One Boat Afloat. — Jumping into the Waves. — Last Embrace of Lovers. 
— Adieus of Husbands and AVives. — Seven Brothers and Sisters. — Struggles of the Firemen. 
— A Living Wall of Fire. — Fate of the Women. — Father and Son. — " A Sail ! " — Rescue of a 
Few 673 

LXXIX. 

Bloody and Revolting Prize-Fight between John Morrissey and John C. 

Heenan.— 1858. 
Stakes, Two Thousand Five Hundred Dollars a Side. — Wonderful Muscular Appearance of the 
Combatants. — Eleven Terrific Rounds in Twenty-Two Minutes. — Morrissey Declared Victor, 
and Hailed as the " Champion of America." — Gala Day for Ruffians and Blacklegs. — A Dis- 
grace to Civilization. — Growth of American Pugilism. — Result of Emigration. — Branded as 
Felony in the United States. — Remarkable Career of Morrissey — Convictions for Various 
Crimes. — Serves in the Penitentiary. — Fights with Yankee Sullivan. — Morrissey Wins. — 
His Great Match with Heenan. — Public Attention Engrossed by It. — Spot Chosen for the 
" Sport." — Laws and Magistrates Shunned. — The Contestants Shake Hands. — Their Tre- 
mendous Prowess. — Blood, Brutality, and Mutilation. — Heenan Staggers in the Eleventh 
Round. — Fails at the Call of " Time." — The Sponge of Defeat Thrown Up. — Morrissey at the 
" Post of Honor." — He Sets up a Drinking Saloon. — Enters Political Life. — Elected to Con- 
gress. — Truth Stranger Than Fiction 681 

LXXX. 

Homicide of Hon. P. B. Key, by Hon. Daniel E. Sickles, Member of Congress, in 

Washington, D. C— 1859. 

Seduction of Mrs. Sickles by Mr. Key..^Their Flagrant Criminal Intimacy. — Youth, Beauty, 
and Distinguished Social Position of Mrs. Sickles. — Full Confession of the Planner, Times, 
and Place of Her Guilt. — Mr. Sickles Tried for Murder and Triumphantly Ac(iuitted. — Mrs. 
Sickles's Fashionable Career. — Admiration of Her Charms. — Key's Amours in Female Soci- 
ety. — His Marked Attentions to Mrs. Sickles. — An Anonymous Letter to Mr. Sickles. — His 
Wife's Infidelity Disclosed. — Plans to Discover the Truth. — Sad Revelations ^lade. — Regular 
Assignations for Months. — House Rented for this Purpose. — A Husband's Agony. — Detects 
Key Signaling to Mrs. Sickles — Ruslies from the House in a Frenzy. — Encounters Key on 
the Street. — Angry Salutations : A Grapple. — Key Shot Dead : Last Words. — The Seducer 
in His Coffin. — House of Infamy Described. — Sickles Indicted and in Court. — Public Rejoic- 
ings at the Verdict.— Mrs. Sickles's Brief Future.— Fair, Ruined, Forgiven, Dead. . . 689 

LXXXI. 

Petroleum Excitement in Pennsylvania. — 1859. 
Discoveries of Prodigious Quantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring 
of Innumerable Wells.— Fabulous Prices Paid For Lands.- Poor Farmers Become Million- 
aires.— The Supply of Oil Exceeds the AVants of the AVhole Country.— Immense Exporta- 
tions of the Article.— Vast Source of National AVealth and Industry.— Revolution in Artifi- 
cial Light.— Ancient Knowledge of this Oil.— Floating on Ponds and Creeks.- Its Collection 
and Use. — Native Sources: Origin. — Locality of the Springs.- Great Value of the Oil. — 
First Attempt at Boring.— Plans For Sinking Wells.— Their Exhaustless Yield.— Intense 



40 CONTENTS. 

Exciteinont Prevails. — Eager Cro\vd.s at tlie Oil Ri-'^ion. — Buying and Leasing Lands. — En- 
terprise of the Pioneers. — Sudden Fortune^! Made. — Other bide of the Picture. — Towns and 
Cities Built. — fire: Awful .Scenes and I..osses.- Bringing the Oil into Maiket. — Its Cheap- 
ness and Eicelleuce. — Universal Introduction. — Valuable for Various Purposes. . . . 098 

Lxxxir. 

FaT.\I. DlKL IlETWEKN IION. D. C. BUODERICK, AND IION. D. S. TeRRY. — 1859. 

Scene of the Meeting near San Francisco. — Details of the Barbarous Encounter. — Broderick 
Falls Mortally Wounded, by His Adversary. — He Expires in Two Days. — Flight of Terry. — 
Society Shocked at the Event. — Parallel Case of Messrs. Graves and Cilley. — Politics and 
Dueling in America. — Broderick's Alleged Offense. — Terry's Challenge Accepted. — Terms of 
the Duel. — Choice of Seconds and Arms. — Aspect of the Two Men. — Serious Bearing of 
Broderick. — Terry's Fearlessness. — ^Larking the Distance. — Its Murderous Shortness. — The 
Duelists Placed. — Their Persons Examined. — "Gentlemen, are you Brady?" — The 
Word Given. — Both Parties Fire. — Broderiek Shot in the Brejust. — Last SuffiMiiij^s and End. 
— SoiTow of the Community. — His Body Lies in State. — A Similar Deed of Horror. — Con- 
gressional Tragedy iu 1838. — Its Deadly Character 707 

LXXXTIL 
Jons Brown's Capture of Harper's Ferry, Va. — 1859. 
Seizure and Occupation of the United States .Vrmory. — A Bold .Scheme to Free the Slaves. — 
AttackiMl by the Militia, He Retreats to the Engine House and Makes it His Fortress. — 
The Buililing is Surrounded by Federal Tr(«ips and Forced by a Battering Hani. — Brown, 
Kefusing to Surrender, is Overix)wered and Made Prisoner. — His Genuine Heroism on tlie 
Scaffold. — A Long Cherished Plan. — Conference Held in Canada. — Programme of Opera- 
tions. — Harper's Ferry the Strategic Point. — First Active Movement at Night. — Only 
Twenty-t\M) Men in Force. — The Town in Brown's Pos.session. — .Strange Scenes at Day- 
briMk. — Indescribable Consternation. — Fighting and Bloodshed. — News of the .'Vttack Sent 
Off. — Military Companies Pour in. — .Marines Sent from Wa.^hington. — Xo Mercy Shown the 
Insurgents. — Brown is Terribly Wounded. — Ills Indomitable Fortitude. — Tried for Trea.sou 
and Murder. — Conviction: .Speech in Court. — Admiration of Him by His Foe.s. — Walks 
Fearless to the Gallows. — Mounts the FaUil Platform. — " I am Ready at any Time ! " . 715 

LXXXIV. 

Fall of the Great Pembertox Mills in Lawrence, Mass. — 18G0. 
Nearlv One Thousand Per.sons Buried in the Ruins. — Multitudes, JIalc and Female, in Youth 
and Beauty, Brought in a Momi^iit to Agony and Death. — Bursting loith of a Swce)iing 
Conflagration. — Commingling of Horrible .Sights and Sounds. — Hair-Breadth Esca|>es. — 
Three Fair and Beautiful Corpses Tight Together. — The Calamity Instantaneous. — .Sensa- 
tions of the Occupants. — Two Acres of Ruins. — Flames Suddenly Belch Forth. — Thrilling 
Cries : Woeful .Scenes. — Efforts to Rescue tlie AVounded. — Many Left to Their Fate. — Thou- 
sands of Excited Visitors. — Sympathy and Relief. — A Room Stored with the Dead. — Won- 
derful Escape of a Young Woman. — Astonishing Presence of Mind. — I'emale Heroi>m and 
Devotion. — Tender Girls Struggling in the Ruins. — Despair and Suicidi-. — Ladies Work the 
Fire Engines. — Harrowing and Piteous Appeals. — Cool Pluck of an Irishman. — Reading the 
List of Victims. — Touching Request of a Dying Girl. — Endurance and Resignation. — .\c- 
count of the Avondale Colliery Disiister "i'^'-i 

LXXXV. 

Git.wD E.MnAssY From the Empire of Japan, with a Treaty op Peace and Co.m- 
MERCE, to the United States Government. — 1800. 

First Amb.a.ssadoi-s Ever Sent from that Ancient Country to a Foreign Land. — Their Official 
Reception by President Buchanan, and Tour of Observation to the Chief Cities. — Public In- 
terest Excited by this Extrai>rdinary Mi.ssion. — Their f»riental Costume, Manners, Ceivmo- 
nies, Etc. — Japanese Distinction Shown to Americans. — Character of the Embassy. — Headed 



CONTENTS. 41 

by Eminent Princes. — Numerous and Brilliant Suite. — Arrival at Washington. — Procession 
to the Hotel. — Most Cui'ious Spectacle. — How the Treaty was Carried. — Ceremonies at the 
White House. — Salutations and Speeches. — Impressive International Scene. — Japanese 
Diplomacy. — Delivering the Tycoon's Letter. — Personal Appearance of the Ambassadors. — 
President Buchanan's Opinion. — Humors and Drolleries. — "Tommy," the Ladies' Pet. — 
Gallantry to Miss Lane. — The Embassy at the Navy Yard. — Astonishment Expressed by 
Them. — Adieu to the President. — America's Message to the Emperor 732 

LXXXVL 

Arrival and Exhibition, in New York, of the Iron Steamship Great Eastern. — 1860. 

The Largest and Most Extraordinary Vessel Ever Constructed. — Burden, 20,000 Tons ; Length, 
Six Hundred and Eighty Feet. — Tens of Thousands of Visitors from all Parts of the Union. 
— Admiration of Her Majestic Proportions, Ease of Movement, and Her Splendid and Power, 
ful Machinery. — Matchless Triumph of Human Genius and Skill. — "Wonders of the 
World," So Called. — Modern Achievements Pre-eminent. — Marvels of Steam Application. — 
First Crossing of the Atlantic. — Voyage of the Savannah in 1818. — Curiosity and Wonder 
Excited. — Visited by Crowned Heads. — Most Peculiar Reminiscences — Building the Great 
Western. — First Regular Ocean Steamer. — Her Complete Success. — Growth of Ocean Steam 
Transit. — Conception of the Great Eastern. — Her Nautical Peculiarities. — Arcliitectural 
Perfection. — Superb Appointments Throughout. — Working Power, Eight Thousand Horses. — 
Ship's Weight, 12,000 Tons. — Rated for Four Thousand Passengers. — Appearance in New 
York Harbor. — Salutes, Escorts, Etc. — Greeted by Dense Throngs 740 

LXXXVIL 

General Walker's Fillibustering Expeditions to Sonora, Nicaragua, and Hon- 
duras.— 1860. 

Character, iMethod, and Object of His Schemes. — His Movements ^Marked by Bloodshed and 
Bold Usurpation of Authority. — Retreat, Capture, and Court-Martial at Truxillo. — Cool Res- 
ignation to His Death-Sentence. — Solemn March to the Place of Execution. — Is Shot, and 
Instantly Expires. — Walker's " Star of Djstiny." — Short-Sighted Calculations. — Daring 
Qualities of the Man. — Bitter Luck in Sonora. — Starvation : Inglorious Flight. — Nicaragua 
the Land of Promise. — Contempt of Neutrality Laws. — United States Officials Outwitted. — 
Champagne vs. Handcuifs. — Battles at Rivas and Virgin Bay. — Splendid Successes of 
Walker. — Styles Himself "The Regenerator." — Treaty between Generals Walker and Cor- 
ral. — Corral Charged with Treason, and Shot. — Combination Against Walker. — His Escape 
to the United States. — New but Abortive Attempts on Nicaragua. — Turns Up Next at Trux- 
illo. — Is Defeated by the Honduras Troops. — His Doom Announced to Him. — Dying Declara- 
tions. — A Volley ; Three Cheers ; the End 748 

LXXXVIIL 

Tour of His Royal Highness, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, Through the 

United States. — 1860. 

Friendly Letters between President Buchanan and Queen Victoria on the Subject. — The 
Prince's First Entrance Into American Waters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him. 
— Hunting Excursions, Military Reviews. Balls, Illuminations, Etc.— Splendid Banquet at 
the Wliite House.— England's Appreciation of these Honors to Her Future King.— Heir to 
the British Throne.— Arrival at Detroit, Chicago, Etc.— Enthusiastic Crowds Greet Him.— 
His Way Completely Blocked Up. — On a Hunt : Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various 
Cities. — Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of President Buchanan. — Courtesies and 
Ceremonials. — Visit to Mount Vernon. — At the Tomb of Washington. — Unparalleled His- 
torical Scene. — He Plants a Tree at the Grave. — Rare Scenes in Philadelphia. — New York 
and Boston Festivities. — Present from Trinity Church, New I'ork.— Greatest Balls Ever 
Known. — He Meets a Bunker Hill A'eteran. — Impressions of America. — Incidents, Anecdotes, 
Interviews. — His Looks, Manners, Dress, Etc. — Brilliant Farewell at Portland. . . . 756 



42 CONTENTS. 

LXXXIX. 

BOMnARDMEXT AND REDrCTION OF FoRT Sl'MTER. — 1861. 

Inauguration of Civil War in the United States. — First Militaiy .\ct in the Long and Bloody 
Struggle to Dismember the Union. — Organization of the Southern Confedeiaoy. — President 
Lincoln's IVoclaiMiition lor 7o,000 Volunteers. — S[X)ntaneous Uprising of the Loyal People. 
—Calling tlie Hattle-Koll of the Uepuhlic. — Supreme Crisis in the Fate of tiie Nation. — 
Northern and Southi-rn Variances. — .Slaverj' the Cause of Contention. — Culmination of tlie 
Antagonism. — Disunion Banner of the South. — Secession of Several States. — War Wager 
Boldly Staked. — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal Property Seized at the South. — 
Batteries Erected at Cliarleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. — Beauregard Demands its 
Surrender. — Major Anderson's Flat Refusal. — -Weakness of His Garrison. — .\ttempts to Re- 
enforce It. — Prevented liy Confederate Batterie.s. — .\I1 Eyes Riveted on the Fort. — Opening 
of the Attack, April Fourteenth. — Incessant and Tremendous Fire. — Terms of Evacuation 
Accepted. — Southern Rejoicings. — The Great Military Outlook. — Washington the National 
Key 764 

XC. 
Astonishing Feats of Horse-Taming Performed by Mr. John S. Rarey. — 186L 
The Most Savage and Furious Animals Made Tractable as Lambs. — Tlie Ferocious and Far- 
Famed "Cruiser" Lies Docile at Ilis Master's Feet. — Acclamations of Wonder and Admira- 
tion by Crowded Audiences. — Brilliant Honors from Monarchs and Courts Abroad. ^Philos- 
ophy of Jlr. Rarey's Method and Success. — Mr. Rarey Personally. — Bfiyhood Fondness for 
Horses. — Aptness in Training Them. — Discovers an Improved Method. — Its Perfect Success. 
— Wild Prairie Horses Subdued. — Determines to E.xhibit Abroad. — His Skill Challenged in 
London. — "Cruiser" to be the Great Test. — Rage and Fury of the Animal. — Plunging, 
Rearing, Yelling, Biting. — Rarey's Complete Triumph. — Monarchs and Princes Present. — 
Their Surprise and Delight.— Victoria's Rapturous Applause. — Exhibitions in the United 
States. — Terrible Cases Dealt With. — Rarey Always Conqueror. — Ilis Calm, Fine, Firm 
Voice. — Cool, Quiet, Quick Movements. — Magnetism of His Presence. — Details of the Sys- 
tem 772 

XCL 

Battle at Bull Run, Va., between the Federal and Confederate Armie.s. — 1861. 

First Important Engagement in the Great Civil War. — .Severe Fighting for JIany Hours. — 
Most Disastrous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Ilradlong 
Flight. — Tlie South Jubilant. — Gloom and Humiliation of the Ixiyal States. — Three Months 
Since .Sumter Fell. — .\rniies Massed at Washington and Richmond. — Threats Against the 
Federal Capital. — Irritation and Impatience of the North. — "On to Richmond!" the Union 
War-Cry. — March of McDowell's Army. — Plan of the Movement. — Rousing the Southern 
Forces. — Their Unexpected Strength. — Uncertain Fate of the Day. — Re-enforcements for the 
Confederates. — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Exclaims, "Onward, My Brave Com- 
rades!" — Their Wild Enthusiasm. — A I^ost Battle for the Union. — Complete IX'moralization. 
— Three Miles of Scattered Ti-oops. — Arms, Stores, etc.. Flung Away. — Distressing .Siglits 
and Sounds. — Thanksgiving Appointed by Davis. — Te Deums Sung in tlie Southern Churches. 
— Lessons Taught by this Battle 780 

XCII. 
Extraordinary Combat between the Iron-Clads Merrimac and Monitor, in 

Hampton Roads. — 18()2. 
Sudden Appearance of the Merrimac Among the Federal Frigates. — Their Swift and Terrible 

Destruction by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected .\rrival of the " Little Monitor " at the Scene 
of .\ction. — .She Engages and Di.sables the Monster Craft in a Four Hours Fight. — Total 
Revolution in Naval Warfare the World Over by this Remarkable Contest. — How the Mer- 
rimac Changed Hands. — Burned and Sunk at Norfolk, Va. — Her Hull Raised by the Confed- 
erates. — She is Iron Roofed and Plated.— Proof Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel 




CONTENTS. 43 

Beak in Her Prow. — Most Formidable Vessel Afloat. — In Command of Commodore Buclianan. 
— Departs from Norfolk, March Eighth. — Pierces and Sinks the Cumberland. — Xext Attacks 
the Congre.ss.— The Noble Frigate Destroyed. — Fight Begun with the Minnesota. — Suspended 
at Nightfall. — Trip of the Monitor from New York. — Her New and Singular Build. — Lieu- 
tenant Worden Hears of the Battles. — Resolves to Grapple with the Monster.— The Two 
Together Next Day.— A Scene Never to be Forgotten. — Wordeu Tui-ns the Tide of Fortune. 
— Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimac 789 

XCIII. 
Battle of Antietam, Maryland. — 1862. 
Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw. — Nearly One Hundred Thousand Men on Each Side. 
— General McClellan Declares on the Field that it is " the Battle of the War." — Four Bliles 
•and Fourteen Hours of Fighting and Slaughter. — The Shock and " Glory " of War on a 
Colossal Scale. — Obstinate Bravery of the Contending Foes. — Some of the Regiments Almost 
Annihilated. — The Union Troops Hold the Disputed Ground. — Lee's Great Military Object. 
— His Troops Enter Maryland. — Frowning Masses of Soldiery. — Sui'render of Harper's Ferry. 
— McClellan's Army in Motion. — He Attacks the Enemy in Position. — Hooker Leads the 
Advance. — He is Shot and Disabled. — Death of General Mansfield. — Other Union Generals 
Wounded. — Reno's Untimely End. — Rain of Shot and Shell. — Various Fortunes of the Day. 
— Close and .Stern Ordeal. — Feat of Burnside's Corps. — Their .Struggle for the Hill. — A Fear- 
ful Crisis with General Burnside. — He Asks for Re-enforcements. — McClellan's Memorable 
Reply. — Driving the Enemy en masse. — Forty of Their Colors Taken. — The After-Scene of 
Horror 798 

XCIV. 

Proclamation' of Emancipation, as a War Measure, by President Lincoln. — 186.3. 

More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important 
American State Paper Since July Fourth, 1776. — Pronounced, by the President, " the Great 
Event of the Nineteenth Century." — -The Whole System of Slavery Finally Swept from the 
Republic, by Victories in the Field and by Constitutional Amendments. — Mr. Lincoln's 
Views on Slavery. — Opposed to all Unconstitutional Acts. — His Orders to Union Generals. — 
Prohibits the Arming of Negroes. — .\larraing Progress of Events. — The Great Exigency at 
Last. — Slavery versus the Union. — Solemn and Urgent Alternative. — Emancipation Under the 
War-Power. — Preparation of the Great Document. — Its Submission to the Cabinet. — Opin- 
ions and Discussions. — Singular Reason for Delay. — Jlr. Lincoln's Vow to God. — Waiting 
for a Union Trmmph. — Decided by the Battle of Antietam. — Final Adoption of the Measui'e. 
— Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative.— Public Reception of the Proclamation. — Promulga- 
tion at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freednien. — Enfranchisement Added to Free- 
dom 1 807 

xcv. 

Campaign against Vicksburg, "The Gibraltar of the Mississippi," by the Uniox 

Forces.— 1863. 

The Genius, Valor, and Resources of Both Armies Tasked to Their Utmost. — Final Capitula- 
tion of the City by General Peinberton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant Siege. — Heaviest 
Blow Yet Dealt the Secession Cause. — General McPherson Receives the Formal Surrender. — 
37,000 Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for 60,000 Men, the Trophies. — Geo- 
graphical Importance of Vicksburg. — Its Commanding Fortifications. — Farragut's Naval 
Siege Powerless. — Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command. — Vigor- 
ous Operations Undertaken. — His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm 
Vicksburg. — Hours of Terrific Cannonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough In- 
vestment at all Points.— -Federal Sapping and Mining. — They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill. — 
Awful Spf'ctacle of Blood and Ruin. — Deadly Struggle for a Foothold. — Success of the Forty- 
fifth Illinois. — Their Colors Surmoimt the Work. — Peinberton Sends a Flag of Truce. — His 
Interview with Grant. — Grant's Terms : " Unconditional Surrender." — The Victors Enter 
the City, July Fourth. — Curious Reminiscences 817 



44 CONTENTS. 

XCVI. 

Three Days' Battle between- the Conxextiiated Armies of Gexerals Meade ani> 

Lee, at GETTYSurito, Pa. — 1803. 

Ovfrwlipltniiig Invasion of Pennsylvania by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives 
Thi-m with Great .Slaugliter Across the Potomac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the 
Seat of War from Virginia to Nortliern Soi).— (Jne of the Most Decisive and Important 
Federal Victories in tlie (ireat American Civil Conllict. — Lee's Army Impatient to go North. 
— Order of Marcli at Last. — Consternation in the Border States. ^Call for One Hundred 
Thousand More Men. — Advance of Meade's Army. — Face to Face With the Foe. — Engagement 
between the Vanguards. — Terrific Artillery Contests. — Movements anil Counter Movements. — 
Severe Reveises on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery Hill. — I.^ngstreet's Furious Onset. — 
Most Destructive Cannonade. — fiettysl)urg a Vast Hospital. — Crawford's Grand Charge. — 
Standing by the Batteries! — Ilandto-IIand Conflict. — Following the Battle-Flag. — Deadly 
and Imp(rtuous Fighting. — Forty-one Confederate Standards Taken. — Unbounded Joy of 
the Victors. — President Lincoln's Announcement 820 

xcvn. 

Oratorical Championship of Amkrica's Cav.^e ix England, by Rev. H. AV. 

Beeciikr.— 1803. 
His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of the Kingdom. 

— His Eloquence Ilises to the Very Crown of the Occasion. — .'Superb Exhibition of Forensic 
Piiuer ill Liverjiool. — He Wrestles, Single-IIanded and Triumphantly, for Three Hours, with 
a Vast and Tunuiltuous Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, London. — Mr. Becch- 
er's Tour Undertaken for His Health. — Reaches England, Homeward Bound. — Civil Conflict 
Raging in America. — Mr. Beecher Urged to Speak on United States Affairs. — Opening 
Speech in Manchester. — Great Audience of .Seven Thou.sand. — Attempts to .Silence Him. — 
Powerli'ssness of the Opposition. — Splend d (Qualities as an Orator. — Di.scussions in (ilasgow 
and Edinburgh. — Battle Waged by Mr. B;;echer in Liverpool. — Violent EtTorts to (!ag Him. 
— A Maddened Sea of Insult. — Taunts, Curses, Hissse.s, Fury. — Stampings, Hootings. Veil- 
ings. — Beecher's Pluck, and (iood Humor. — He Triumphs Over the Wild Tempest. — A .Spec- 
tacle Never Before Witnessed. — Grand Closing Scene in the British Capital. — Vast and 
Excited Assembly. — Ho Carries the House by Storm. — Plaudits and Congratulations. . 830 

xcvin. 

Erection and I.v.M'orRATioN of the Great Organ i.v the Boston Mrsic Hall. — 1803. 

Most Majestic and Perfect Instrument of the Kind in Anu'rica. — .Mmost without an Ecpial 
in the Whole World.— Height, Sixty Feet; Width, Forty-eight Feet; Depth. Tw.Mity-fonr 
Feet; AVeight, .Seventy Tons; Cost, 800,001). — Its Vast and Enchanting IlarnKiuiis and 
Wondrous Fraiu'i of Architectural I^i.auty. — The Masterpiece of ^lusical .\rt. — Origin of the 
Enterprise. — Dr. Upham's Grand Conception. — Full Powers Conferred Upon Him. — His 
Seven Years' Labor and Care. — America and Europe Explored. — A Colossal Instrument 
Decided On. — Object and Influence of Such. — Contract for Its Construction inCJeimany. — 
Unrivaled Mechanism of the Woik. — Completeil, and Shipped for Boston. — Three Months' 
Tempestuous Voyage — Enshrinement of th" Organ in a Case. — Its Towers, Domes, and 
Sculptures.— Wind Pipes, Thirty -two Feet Long. — Eighty-nine Full Registers. — Total Num- 
ber of Pipes, Five Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy-four. — Capacity of the Organ, Six 
Thousand Voices. — Ea.se with which It is Performed. — Marvelous Lights and .Shades of Tone. 
— First Exposition to the Public. — Enthusiasm and Joy on the Occasion. — Music, Poetry, 
Art, Beauty 844 

XCIX. 
Combat between the Alabama, Captain Semmes, and tiik Kearsarge, Captain 

WixsLitw, OFF CiiiatnofRO. — 1804. 
The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's Engagement, in .Sight of the Two (ireat Maritime Pow- 
ers of Europe. — Semmes Throws His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes. — Rela- 



CONTENTS. 45 

tive Equality, in Size and Armament, of the Two Vessels. — The Previous Destructive 
Cai-eer of the Alabama Against Northern Commerce. — Causeless Raid on Marine Property. 
— Fault ill the Law of Nations. — British Origin of the Alabama. — Her Unmistakable Char- 
acter. — Peculiar Model and Equipment. — Adapted to Destroy, Fight, or Run. — Adroit Ship- 
ment of Stores and Guns. — Ready for a Start. — All Hands Mustered Aft. — Semmes Reads 
Aloud His Commission. — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, Etc. — Salute Fired : Hoisting the Flag. 
— A Long Cruise: Terrible Ravages. — Puts in, at Cherbourg, France. — The United States 
Ship Kearsarge on His Track. — Sennnes ISoldly Offers to Fight. — Preliminary Maneuvers of 
the Ships. — Seven Circles Round Each Other. — Sennnes's Rapid and Furious Fire.— Supe- 
rior Gunnery of the Kearsarge. — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama. — Incidents of this 
Renowned Fight Sol 

C. 

Admiral Farragut's Achievements at New Orleans in 1862, and at Mobile Bay in 
1861; AND Admiral Porter's Crowning Victory in 1865, at Fort Fisher. — 1804. 

His Astonishing Feat of Rowing Past the Confederate Batteries. — Fierce and Sanguinary Con- 
test between the Admiral's Flag-ship, the Hartford, and Admiral Buchanau's Monster Ram, 
the Tennessee. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match for tlie Whole Union Fleet. 
— Farragut's Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerv- 
ing Fidelity to the Old Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him. — Sailing of His Great Fleet. 
— Bold and Successful Plan of Battle. — Admiral Portei's Splendid Services. — Ports Jackson 
and St. Philip Wrecked. — New Orleans Again Under the United States Flag. — Another 
Theater of Naval Operations. — Forts, Rams, Iron-Clads, Etc., to Fight. — Powerful Build of 
the Tennessee. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed.— Intended Running Down of the 
Hartford. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers. — Unexpected Feature in His Tactics.— Deadly 
Contact of the Various Craft. — Tremendous Cannonades. — The "Glory" and Horrors of 
War. — Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram. — Crippled at Last: The White Flag. — The 
Stars and Stripes on Her StaS. — Buchanan Yields His Sword 859 

CL 

Grand March of the Union Army, under General Sherman, Through the Heart 

or the South. — 1864. 

Generals and Armies Baffled, and States and Cities Conquered, Without a Serious Disaster to 
the Victors. — Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in Any Age or Country. — The Soutliern 
Confederacy Virtually Crushed Within the Coils of this Wide-Sweeping, Bold, and Resist- 
less Movement. — The Great Closing Act in the C'ami:)aign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Com- 
mander. — His Great Military Success. — His Own Story. — A Brilliant Campaign Planned. — 
Brave and Confident Troops. — xVtlanta, Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City: Starts 
for the Coast. — Kilpatrick Leads the Cavalry. — Thomas Defends the Border States. — Success- 
ful Feints Made by Sherman.— Subsists His Men on the Enemy's Country. — Immense Sweep 
of the Onward Columns. — Savannah's Doom Sealed.— Fall of Fort McAllister. — Christmas 
Gift to the President. — Advance Into South Carolina. — The Stars and Stripes in Her Cap- 
ital. — All Opposition Powerless. — North Carolina's Turn Next. — Swamps, Hills, Quagmires, 
Storms, Floods. — Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnston's Whole Army Bagged. — 
Sherman Described Personally 868 

CIL 
Fall of Richmond, Va., the Confederate Capital. — 1865. 
The Entrenched City Closely Encompassed for Months by General Grant's Brave Legions and 
Walls of Steel. — Flight of Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army. — Overthrow 
of the Four Years' Gigantic Rebellion. — The .I'Lgis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic 
Everywhere Dominant. — Transports of Joy Fill the Land. — A Nation's Laurels Crown the 
Head of tlie Conqueror of Peace. — Memorable Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issue.s 
Involved. — Heavy Cost of this Triumph. — Without It, a Lost Republic. — Unequaled Valor 



46 CONTENTS. 

Displayed. — .Sherman's Grand Conceptions. — Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward 
March of Events. — .StratcLjy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's Lines Fatally Broken. — Approiwh of 
tilt' Kiual C'ri.sis. — Kichtnoud Evacuated by Night. — Retreat of Lee : N'igorous Pursuit. — 
His Hopeless Resistance to Grant. — Their Correspondence and Interview. — The Two Great 
Generals Face to Face. — What Was Said and Done. — Announcing the Kesult. — Parting of 
Lee with His Soldiers. — President Lincoln's Visit to Richmond. — Raising the United States 
Flag at Fort Sumter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe 877 

CHL 

ASSASSIN.\TI0X OF PuKSIDENT LiNCOLX, AT F'oUD's ThEATEK, WaSIIIXGTOX, IIY J. 

Wilkes Booth. — 1865. 
Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, all the Chief Officers of the Government. — The Most 
E.xalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a Viitiin. — A Universal Wail of Anguish and 
Lamentation Poured Forth from the National Heait. — Darkest Page in the History of the 
Country. — Funeral Cortege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Conspirators. — 
Object of tliis Most Infamous of Crimes. — Singular Time of Its Perjietration. — Virtual End 
of the Great Civil War. — Dawn of Peace : Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Happy Frame 
of Mind. — How He Passed His Last Day. — Conversations on the Evening of April Four- 
teenth. — Makes an Engagement for the Jlorrow. — Last Time He Signed His Name. — Re- 
luctantly Goes to the Theater. — Arrives Late: Immense Audience. — Plans and Movements of 
the Assassin. — The Fatal Shot : a Tragedy of Horrors. — Removal of the President to a Pri- 
vate House. — Speechless and I'nconscious to the End. — Death-Bed Scenes and Incidents. — 
The Nation Stunned at the Appalling News. — Its Reception at the South, and by General 
Lee. — A Continent in Tears and Mourning. — Most Imposing Obsequies Ever Known. — 
Booth's Swift and Bloody End. — Trial of His JIale and Female Accomplices. . . . 887 



CIV. 

Successful Layixg of the TELECRArii Cable Achoss the Atlantic Ocean. — 1866. 

Th3 Old World and the New United by Instantaneous Comnmnication. — Pronounced the 
Grandest of Human Enterprises. — Ten Years of Difficulty and Failure in the Mighty Task. 
— The Name of Its ludomitalile Projector Crowned with Immortal Honor. — Illustrations of 
the Power and Wonders of tiiis New-Born A'^ent of Civilization. — Ocean Telegraphs Early 
Predicted. — First .Vttenipt in 1S.")7. — Breaking of the Wire. — Fresh but Abortive Trials in 
18.58 and 18G5. — Great Preparations for ISIiO. — Exquisite Construction of the Cable. — A 
Wealthy and Powerful Company. — Cyrus W. Field, Its Master-Spirit. — Eu)[)loyment of the 
Great Eastern. — Laying the Shore-End at Valentia. — Rejoicing of the Inhabitants. — Voyage 
of the Fleet to America. — Incidents and Acciilents. — Intense Solicitude, Day and Night. — A 
Joyous Morning! July Twenty-seventh. — Perfect Success from End to Enil. — First News 
Dispatch. Peace in Europe. — Messages between the President and Queen. — Conii>liments to 
Mr. Field. — His Interview with Lord Clarendon. — John Bright's Sparkling Tribute. — Moral 
Uses of the Cable 8S>9 

CV. 

Completion of the Pacific Railroab. — 1869. 
Spikes of the Richest (Jold and a Hamm"r of Pun; Silver Used in L.iying the Last Rail. — The 
Blows of the Sledcje Telegrapheil to all the Great Cities. — The Wide ContiiK-nt Spanned w itli 
Iron from the Farthest East to the Golden Gate. — Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific 
Oceans. — Seven Days from New York to San Francisco. — Greatest Railro.id Route on the 
Face of the Earth.— "Manifest Destiny" of tlie United St.-vtes.— A Pacific Ilighw.iy Agitjited 
For Years. — Its National Iinixirtanco and Necessity. — Cliarters and (iovernment Aid at Last. 
— The " Union " and "Central " Companies. — Nation.il Difficulties to be Overcome. — Feats 
of Engineering Involved. — Triumphs of .Science in this Respect. — Mountains Tunneled, Riv- 
ers Bridged. — Gulfs Spanned, Depths Fathomed. — Vastness and Progress of the Work. — .V 



CONTENTS. 47 

Force of Twenty-five Thousand Men and Six Thousand Teams. — First Train at the Top of 
the Sierras. — Pushing the Line to Completion. — Approach of tlie Two Grand Divisions. — 
Union at Promontory Point, Utah. — Exultation Over the Victory. — Historic Scene in the 
Heart of America. — Offerings of Gold, Silver, Iron, and Laurel. — Telegram to President 
Grant. — Celebrations iu the Principal Cities. — Easy Journey Around the World. . . . 907 



CVL 

National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival For Five Days, in Boston, in Honor 
OF THE Restoration of the Union of the States. — 1869. 

Ten Thousand Singers, an Orchestra of One Thousand Instruments, and Tens of Thousands of 
Spectators, in the Coliseum, an Immense Building Erected for the Occasion. — Attendance of 
President Grant. — Sublime and Inspiring Harmonies. — Most Majestic Jlusical Demonstra- 
tion of Modern Times. — Origin of the Jubilee.— P. S. CJilmore : His Zeal and Enthusiasm. — 
All Discouragements Overcome. — Magnificent Programme. — Splendor of the Coliseum. — It 
Coveis Nearly Four Acres. — Inauguration Ceremonies. — View of the Audience. — Scene of 
Sui'passing Enchantment. — Beauty of the Decorations. — Overtures, Choruses, Anthems, Etc. 
— Parepa-Rosa, Phillipps, Ole Bull. — Their Professional Triumphs. — Zerrahn, Tourjee, Eich- 
berg. — The Famous " Anvil " Chorus. — Chiming the City Bells. — Novel Connningling of 
Artillery with Music. — Tremendous Ovation to Grant. — Half a jMillion People in the City. — 
Testimonial to Mr. Gilmore. — Last Day : Concert by 10,000 Children. — Triumphant Success 
of the Jubilee. 915 



CVIL 

Burning op the City of Chicago, III., the Commercial Metropolis of the North- 
west.— 1871. 

Most Destructive Conflagration in the History of Civilized Nations.— A Thirty Hours' Tornado 
of Fire iu all Directions. — Vast Billows of Inextinguishable Flame. — Upwards of Two Thou- 
sand Acres, or Seventy-three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed : Loss, 
§200,000,000.— Ignoble Origin of the Fire.— Fatal Mistake of a Policeman.— Combustibles 
all Around. — A Strong Gale Prevailing. — Frightful Rapidity of the Flames. — Destruction of 
the Water- Works. — Stores and Warehouses Swept Away. — Palaces and Hovels a Conmion 
Pi-ey. — Engines Sent from Seven States. — The Midnight Scene. — Terror Indescribable.— 
Fliglit for Life. — Burning of the Bridges. — Hopelessness, Desperation, Death.— Churches, 
Hotels, Theaters, iu Ashes. — Fate of the Newspapers, Banks, etc. — Explosion of the Gas- 
Works. — Tombs and Graves Consumed. — Most Ghastly Spectacle. — Nearly 100,000 Persons 
Homeless.— The Wail for Help.— A World's Sympathies Poured Forth 924 



cvnL 

Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston. — 1872. 

It Rages Fiercely, Night and Day, and Consumes the' Widest and Most Magnificent Area of 
Solid Granite Warehouses on the Continent. — Some Sixty-five Acres of these Massive and 
Apparently Indestructible Commercial Palaces Crumble Like Chalk in the Intense Heat.— 
The Great Financial and Commercial Center of New England Destroj'ed. — Surprising Char- 
acter of this Fire. — Comparison with that of Chicago. — No Gale : Moderate Weather. — 
Strange Rapidity of the Flames. — They Spread in all Directions. — Triumphant Sweep from 
Block to Block. — Thoroughness of the Destruction. — Iron and Stone No Barriers. — Ditfieulties 
of the Situation. — Great Height of the Stores. — Narrowness of the Streets.- -Trinity Church 
in Ruins. — Blowing up with Gunpowder. — Grand and Terrible Scenes. — Narrow Escape of 
the " Old South." — State Street and its Treasures Reached. — Victory at Last by the Firemen. 
— Peril, Bravery, Death. — A AVhole City in Darkness. — Some Eight Hundred Buildings 
Burned.— Trades that Specially Suffered.— Loss About $85,000,000 9:31 



48 CONTENTS. 

CIX. 
The National Grange Movement. — 1872. 
Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. — Changes Sought in the Relations between 
Producers and Consumers. — General Declaration of Principles and Aims — A System of Uni- 
versal Co-operation Proposed. — Results to be Realized by .Such Combinations. — Patrons of 
Husbandry and Sovereigns of Industiy. — Initiative Proceedings in ISliT. — First (irange 
Founded in Wa.shington, D. C. — Agriculture the Grand I5;isis. — Mutual Protection and 
Advancement. — Small Encouragement at the Beginning. — Immense Growth in Five Years. 
— Activity in the West and Soutli. — Social and Moral Aspects. — Plan of Business Action. — 
Partisan Prejudices Disavowed. — Xo Political Tests Involved. — Opinions of Kininent Leaders 
Cited. — Views of Foreign Publicists. — Vital Point in the Xew System. — Commercial and 
Financial Theories. — Grain and Cotton Products. — Alleged Errors in Trade Customs. — Indi- 
vidual D.«. Associated Efforts. — ' Middlemen ' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Interven- 
tion. — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies 938 

ex. 

Trial of Rev. II. W. Beecher, for .\dultkrv with Mrs. Tiieodore Tilton, as Charged 

BY Her Husband. — 1875. 

The Name of the Accused, as Preacher, Author, and Reformer, Co-extcnsivc with Christianity 
and Civilization. — Story of the Plaintiff, of tiie Wife, and of the Defendant. — The 
Longest and Most Bitter Contest in .\merican Judicial Annals. — A Wide-Spread 
Social Tragedy. — Suffocating Crowds Fill the Hall. — Array of Eminent Coun.sel. — 
Mrs. Tilton and Mrs. Beecher Attend Daily. — Flowers and Applause. — Activity of the 
Press and Telegraph. — Foundation of the Terrible Charges. — Damages Laid at 8100,0110. 
— Mrs. Tiltou"s Confessions to Her Husband. — A Retraction Obtained from Her by Mr. 
Beecher. — Jlr. Moulton, for Mr. Tilton, Demands Its Return. — Explanations by Mr. Beecher, 
— Denial of any Improprieties. — Mr. Tilton's Appearance on the Stand. — Nature of the 
Defense. — Mr. Beecher in His Own Behalf. — Mrs. Tilton's Appeal to the Court.— One Hun- 
dred and Eleven Witnesses Called.— Great Conflict of Testimony. — Opinion and Rulings 
of the Judge. — The Jury Seven Days Out. — Their Final Disagreement 945 

CXL 

Cente.vntal Commemoration of tiif. Birth of the Repcrlic. — 1876. 
Year of Jubilee, Festival, and Pageant, throughout the Land. — Prosperity. Power, and Renown 
of the Nation. — A Union of Nearly Forty Great Commonwealths and Forty Million Peojile. — 
Anticipations of the Coming Annivei-sary. — Legislation by Congress for its Patriotic Obser- 
vance. — A Grand E.vposition of the Century's Growth and Progress, the Principal Feature 
Decided Upon. — Vast Work of Prep.aration. — The Whole World at Peace, and .Vll Countries 
and Climes in Sympathy with the Republic and its .\uspicious Era. — Ushering in the Year's 
Ceremonials. — Every City, Town, and ^'i!Iage, Covered with Ciay .Streamers and Waving 
Flags. — Pomp, Parade, and Universal Fraterniz.ation. — Wondrous Microcosm of Civilization 
Concentrated at Philadelphia.— The Culminating Art and Skill of Sixty Centuries of Human 
Advancement, and the Products of Every Quarter of the Globe, Displayed in Their Richest 
Illustrations. — An I'npreced<'nted Scene: President an<l Emperor Receiving the Salutations 
of the Atnerieau People. — Oratory, Music, Poetry. Rells, Illuminations, Cainion. Regatt.ns, 
Banners, Hallelujalis, and Huzzas. — The Beauty, Utility, and Magnificence of the Orient and 
Occident, in linundless Condiinations. — The " Glorious Fourth," All Over tlie Land. — Con- 
gratulatory Letter from the Emperor of Germany 951 




MOMENTOUS POLITICAL EVENTS OF ABSORBING INTEREST. 

1776. — Declaration of American Independence. 
Birth of the Nation. 

1785. — First Minister From the United States to England. 
John Adams and Old King George Face to Face. 

1786. — Shats's Rebellion in Massachusetts. 

Armed Defiance of State a7id Federal Laws. 

1787. — ^Formation and Adoption of the Federal Constitution. 
The United States no longer an Unorganized Nation. 

1789. — ^Election and Inauguration of a President of the United States. 
Unanimous Choice of George Washington. 

1794. — The Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. 
Resistance to the United States Excise Tax. 

1799. — Founding of Washington City, The National Capital. 
Establishment of the Government in that City. 

1806. — Conspiracy and Trial of Aaron Burr. 
His Scheme of Conquest and Empire. 

1826. — Fiftieth Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. 
A Jubilee throughout the Land. 

1826. — Death of Ex-Presidents John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, 
On the Fourth of July, the Nation^ s Half- Centenary. 



50 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 

1830. The "Great Debate" betwee.v Senatohs Webster and Hayne. 

Known as "the Battle of the Giants." 

1832. — Nullification Outbreak in South Carolina, under Calhoun, McDuf- 
FiE, AND Others. 
The Wrath of President Jackson Aroused. 

1836. — Struggle for the Right of Petition in Congress. 

John Quincy Adams's Eleven Days' Dramatic Conflict, Single-Handed. 

1837. — Passage of the Famous Expunging Resolution, in the United States 
Senate. 
Memorable Parliamentartj Scene at Midnight. 

1842. — Rebellion in Rhode Island, under Thomas W. Dorr. 
Popular Suffrage and Political Equality Demanded. 

1844. — Anti-Rent or " Bakn-Burning " Agitation in New York. 
Terrible Violence by Persons Disguised as Indians. 

1851. — Reign of the Vigilance Committee in California, 
Sudden Seizure and Punishment of Criminals. 

1852. — Expedition to J.\pan, under Commodore Perry. 
The Ports of that Empire Unsealed to America. 

1859. — John Brown at Harper's Ferry. 
A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves. 

I860. — Grand Embassy from the Empire of Japan. 
First Ambassadors Ever Sent From that Country. 

1863. — Championship of America's Cause in England, by Henry Ward 
Beecuek. 
He Wrestles, Victoriously, with Vast and Tumultuous Mobs. 

1863. — Proclamation of Emancipation. 

Pronouncedfby President Lincoln, "the Great Event of the Nineteenth Cen- 
tury." 

1865. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. 
Universal Wail of Anguish and Lamentation. 

1870. — Enfranchisement, by Constitutional Amendment, of the Colored 
Race. 
Equality of All Men before the Law. 

1872. — The Grange Movement at the West. 

Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. 

1876. — One Hundredth Birthday of the American Republic. 
Universal Jubilee throughout the Land. 



II 



TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 51 



IL 

BATTLES, SIEGES, DSTSUERECTIONS, AISTD OTHER MILITARY 

OCCURRENCES. 

1777. — Capitulation of General Burgoyne to General Gates. 
First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans. 

1780. — Treason of Benedict Arnold. / 

Plot to Deliver West Point to the British. 

1781. — Surrender of Lord Cornwallis to General Washington. 
Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. 

1783. — Adieu to the Army by General Washington. 

Resigns his Great Commission and Returns his Sword to Congress. 

1786. — First Organized Rebellion in the United States. 
Led by Daniel Shays, of Massachusetts. 

1791. — Greatest Battles with the Indians. 
St. Clair's Defeat : Wayne's Victory. 

1794. — Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. 
Subdued by General Henry Lee. 

1803. — Chastisement of the Barbary Powers. 

Humiliation of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. 

1806. — Burr's Military Expedition to the South-West. 
His Schemes of Conquest and Empire. 

1813. — Harrison's Victory at the Battle of the Thames. 

Death of Tecxunseh. 

1814. — Conquest and Burning of Washington, by the British. 

Flight of President Madison. 

1815. — Jackson's Terrible Rout of the British at New Orleans. 
Sudden and Decisive Close of the War. 

1842. — Rebellion in Rhode Island, under Thomas W. Dorr. 
The Two Great Political Parties Arm and Take the Field. 

1847. — General Taylor's Victorious Campaign in Mexico. 
Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Buena Vista, Etc. 

1847. — General Scott in the Halls of the Montezumas. 

First Foreign Capital Ever Occupied by a United States Army. 



52 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 

1859. — John- Brown's Seizukk of Harper's Ferry. 
His Capture, Trial, and Execution. 

1861. — Bombardment and Reduction of Fort Sumter. 

Inauguration of the Great Civil War in the United States. 

1861. — Disastrous Defeat of the Union Army, at Bull Run, Va. 
First Important Engagement in the War of the Rebellion. 

1862. — Battle ok Antietam, Md. 

Bloodiest Day Ever Known in America. 

1863. — Surrender of Vicksbukg, " the Gibraltar of the Mississippi." 

37,000 Prisoners, 15 Generals, and Arms for 60,000 3fen, the Trojihies. 

1863. — Three Days' Battle .\t Gettysburg, Pa. 

A Decisive Union Victory, of Supreme Importance. 

1864. — Sherman's March Through the Heart op the South. 
Display of Military Genius Unswpassed in any Age. 

1865. — Fall ok Richmond, and Surrender of General Lee to General 
Grant. 

Overthrow of the Four Years' Gigantic Eebellion. 

1865. — Re-possession of Fort Sumter. 

The Old Flag liaised Again on its Battlements. 



III. 
BRILLIANT NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS AND HEROIC EXPLOITS. 

1779. — Capture of the Ship-ok-War Serapis, by John Paul Jones. 
First American Naval Victory. 

1804. — Bombardment of Tripoli. , 

The, Proud Corsair Flag Strikes to the Stars and Stripes. 

1812. — Fight between the Frigates Constitution and Guerrierk. 
The British Colors Struck to " Old Ironsides." 

1812. — Wonderful Escape of the Frigate Constitution from a British 
Fleet. 

Splendid Naval Tactics of the Americans. 

1813. — Perry's Victory on Lake Erie. 

First Squadron Fight between England and America. 



TOPICAL OK CLASSIFIED LIST. 53 

1814.— McDonough's Victory on Lake Champlain. 

Seventeen British Ensigns Disappear in Two Hours. 

1862.— EXTRAOKDINAEY COMBAT BETWEEN THE MeBRIMAC AND MONITOR. 

Total Revolution in Naval Warfare. 

1864.— Engagement between the Kearsarge and Alabama. 

Sinking of the Alabatna after a Brilliant Contest of One Hour. 

1864.— Heroic Achievements of Admirals Fabragut and Porter. 
New Orleans and Mobile the Scenes of their Exploits. 

1865.— Brilliant Capture of Fort Fisher, K C, bt Admiral Porter and 
General Terry. 

Pronounced, by Gen. Grant, one of the Great Successes that Ended the War. 



IV. 

SUPERB ACHIEVEMENTS OF ORATORY. 

1830.— The Great Debate between Webster and Hayne, in the United 
States Senate. 

Known as " The Battle of The Giants." 

1836.— Struggle for the Right of Petition in Congress. 

John Quincy Adams's Dramatic Contest, Single-Handed, for Eleven Days. 

1863.— Championship of America's Cause in England, by Henry Ward Beecher. 
He Wrestles, Victoriously, luith Vast and Tumultuous Mobs. 



V. 

CELEBRATED CRIMINAL CASES AND TRIALS, TRAGEDIES MUTI- 
NIES, DUELS, CONSPIRACIES, Etc. 

1780. — Treason of Benedict Arnold. 

Darkest Deed of Infamy during the Bevolutionary War. 

1804.— Fatal Duel between Vice-President Burr and Alexander Hamilton. 
Hamilton Falls, Mortally Wounded. 

1806.— Aaron Burr's Trial for High Treason. 
August Judicial Scene. 

1826.— Duel between Henry Clay and John Randolph. 
Two Shots, and a Reconciliation. 



54 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 

1831. — Capture aud Execution of Gibbs, the Noted Pirate. 

Known as '' the Scourge of the Ocean " arid the Enemy of Mankind. 

1835. — Attempt to Assassinate President Jackson in the United States 
Capitol. 
The Perpetrator, Richard Lawrence, Proves to be a Lunatic. 

1836. — Trial of Richard P. Robinson, for the Murder of Miss Helen 
Jewett, of New York. 
The Victim a Notedly-Beautiful Courtesan. 

1838. — Barbarous Duel between* Hons. W. J. Graves and Jonathan Cil- 
ley, Members of Congress. 
Cilley Slain at the Third Firing. 

1841. — Cold-Blooded Murder of Samuel Adams by John C. Colt, in New 
York. 
One of the Most Celebrated of Modem Crimes. 

1842. — Mutiny on Board the United States Brig-of-War Somers. 
Hanging of Spencer and Other Ringleaders from the Yard-arm. 

1844. — Trial and Degradation of Bishops B. T. and H. U. Ondebdonk, fob 
Immor.^lity. 
No Parallel Case in the Christian Church, since the Reformation. 

1849. — Astob Place Opera-House Riots, New York. 

Fexid between the Two Great Tragedians, Forrest and Macready. 

1849. — Murder of Dr. George Parkman, a Boston Millionaire, by Prof. 
J. W. Webster, of Harvard College. 
Intense Interest in this Case, in both Hemispheres. 

1851. — Reign of the Vigilance Committee in California. 
Swift and Terrible Dealings with Criminals. 

1856. — Assault on Hon. Charles Sumner, in the United States Senate 
Chamber, by P. S. Brooks. 
Twenty Hard and Rapid Blows on the Senatoi-'s Bare Head. 

1857. — Shocking and Mysterious Murder of Dr. H. Burdell, of New York. 
Trial of Mrs. Cunningham : a Drama of Horrors. 

1858. — Revolting Prize Fight between John Morkissey and John C. Heenan. 
Morrissey the Victor — His Triumphant Election to Congress. 

1859.— Homicide of Hon. P. B. Key by Hon. D. E. Sickles, M. C, in Wash- 

INCTOX. 

Seduction of Mrs. Sickles by Mr. Key : Trial and Acquittal of Sickles. 



TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 55 

1859. — Fatal Duel between Hon. D. C. Broderick, United States Senator 
FROM California, and Chief Justice Terky. 
Broderick Mortally Wounded ; His Speedy Death. 

1860. — Walker's Fillibustering Expeditions. 
His Retreat, Capture, and Execution. 

1865. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. 
The Most Exalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers. 

1865. — Trial of the Assassination Conspirators. 
Their Swift and Awful Doom. 

1875. — Trial of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher for Alleged Adultery. 

Charged hy Theodore Tilton to have been Committed with Mrs. Tilton, 



VI. 
WONDERFUL PHENOMENA OF THE EARTH, OCEAN, AND HEAVENS. 

1780. — Mysterious Dark Day in the Northern States. 
The End of the World Supposed to be at Hand. 

1806. — Greatest Total Solar Eclipse Ever Known. 
Five Minutes Total Obscuration at Noonday. 

1811. — Desolating EARTHQU.-i.KE at the West. 

All Over the Mississippi to the Atlantic Coast. 

1815. — The Ever-Memorable September Gale. 

Unparalleled Since the Settlenie7it of the Country. 

1833. — Sublime Meteoric Shower all Over the United States. 
The Whole Firmament in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. 

1837. — Magnificent Aurora Boeealis Covering the Whole Heavens. 
Visible All Night to Millions of Observers. 

1843. — Appearance of a Fiery Comet at Mid-Dat. 

It Sweeps through the Sky, in Plain Sight, for Several Weeks. 

1851. — Visit of the Marine Monster, Called the Sea-Serpent, along thb 
Atlantic Coast. 
Accounts Given by Eye- Witnesses. 

1868. — Disastrous Earthquakes in California. 

Lives Lost and Property Destroyed, in "65 and '68. 



56 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 

1869. — Total Eclipse of the Sun. 

Most Interesting and Important Observations of the Phenomenon Ever Made. 



VIL 

EXTR.\ORDrNARY DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS, SCIENTIFIC EX- 
PEDITIONS, AND THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF iLECHANICAL 
GENIUS. 

1793. — Whitney's Great Cotton-Gin Invention. 

Jievoliition in the Prospects and Power of the South. 

1807. — Fulton's Application of Steam to Navigation. 
First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters. 

1835. — Morse's Invention ok the Electric Telegraph. 
The Scientific Miracle of the Age. 

1838. — Exploring Expedition to the South Seas, under Commodore Wilkes. 
Discovert/ of the Great Antarctic Continent. 

1842. — Fremont's Exploration of the Far North-West. 

Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of the Rocky Mountains. 

1846. — Discovery of Painless Surgery by the Inhalation of Ether. 
Most Beneficent Boon to Humanity Ever Conferred by Science. 

1846. — Invention of that Wondrous Mechanism, thf. Sewing Machine. 
Romantic Genius and Perseverance of the Inventor. 

1847. — Expedition to the Jordan and Dead Sea, under Lieutenant Lynch. 
The "Sea of Death" Explored, Sounded, and its Mysteries Solved. 

1848. — Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, California. 

California Becomes the El Dorado of the World. 

1850. — Gkinxell Expeditions to the Arctic Seas. 
Doctor Kane Discovers an Open Polar Sea. 

1851. — Victory of the Yacht America, in the International Race at Cowes. 

She Wins " The Cup of all Nations." 

1852. — Expedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry. 
Opening of that Empire to American Intercourse. 

1853. — Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations, i.v New York. 
Sjilendid Display of the Arts and Treasures of Civilisation. 



TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 57 

1859. — Petroleum Excitemext in Pennsylvania. 

Discovery of Vast Quantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the 
Earth. 

1860. — Exhibition, in New York, of the Mammoth Steamship Great Eastern. 
Largest Vessel Ever Built. 

1863. — Inauguration of the Great Organ in Boston. 

Most Majestic and Perfect Instrument in America. 

1866. — Successful Laying of the Atlantic Telegraph Cable. 
The Grandest of Human Enterprises. 

1869. — Completion and Opening of the Pacific Railroad. 
Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. 



VIII. 

REMARKABLE REFORMS, DELUSIONS, AND EXCITEMENTS, IN THE 
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS WORLD, Etc. 

1830. — Founding of the Mormon Church by Joseph Smith. 
Origin, Character, and Progress. 

1840. — " Washingtonian" or Temperance Reformation. 
Career of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gough, and Others. 

1843. — Expected Destruction of the World. 

Rev. William Miller's Second Advent Predictions. 

1844. — Degradation of Bishops B. T. and H. U. Onderdonk from the Epis- 
copacy, for Immoralities. 
No Parallel Case in the Christian Church, since the Reformation. 

1847. — The Phenomena of " Spiritual Manifestations." 

Singular and Humble Origin, and TVorld-wide Development. 

1847. — Voyage of the United States Ship-of-War Jamestown, with Food 
for Ireland. 
Eirst War Vessel Ever Sent on Such a Mission of Mercy. 

1849. — Visit of Father Mathew, the Apostle of Temperance. 
His 600,000 American Converts to Total Abstinence. 

1857. — The " Great Awakening " in the Religious World. 
Knoivn as the American Pentecost. 



58 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 

1863. — Proclamation of Emancipation to the Slaves. 
Millions of Slaves Declared to be Forever Free. 

1875. — Trial of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher for Alleged Adultery. 

Charged by Theodore Tilton to have been Committed with Mrs. Tilton. 

1875-6. — The Popular Revival Movement under Messrs. Moody and Sanket 
Great Success of these Earnest and Devoted Evangelists. 



IX. 
POPULAR OVATIONS, NATIONAL JUBILEES, PAGEANTS, FEATS, Etc. 

1824. — Farewell Visit of Lafayette to America. 
The Invited Guest of a Grateful Republic. 

1826. — Celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of American Independence. 
Sudden Death of Ex-Presidents Adams and Jefferson, on the Day of the 
Jubilee. 

1849. — Tour of Father Mathew, the Apostle of Temperance. 
A Joyous Welcome Extended Him, Througliout the Land. 

1850. — Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind. 

A Whole Continent Enchanted u'ith Her Melodies. 

1851. — Reception of Gov. Kossuth, of Hungary. 
Enthusiastic and Multiplied Ovations. 

1858. — Morphy's Marvelous Chess Triumphs. 

Vanquishes the Most Renotvned Players in Europe and America. 

1860. — Grand Embassy from the Empire of Japan. 

Curious and Extraordinary Tour to the Great Cities. 

1860. — Arrival and Tour of the Prince of Wales, England's Future King. 
Received with Magnificent Honors and Hospitalities, as the Nation's Guest. 

1861. — Rarey's Astonishing Feats of Horse-Taming. 
Wonder and Admiration from Crowded Audiences. 

1863. — Inauguration of the Colossal Organ in Boston. 
The Masterpiece of Modem Musical Art. 

1869. — National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival. 

Ten Thousand Singers, and an Orchestra of One Thousand Players. 

1871. — Journey over the Land, of the Duke Ale.xis, of Russia. 
Son of the Emperor Alexander. 



TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 59 

1874. — VrsiT OF King Kalakaua, op the Sandwich Islands. 

First Instance of a Reigning Crowned Head entering the United States. 

1876. — One Hundredth Birthday of the American Republic. 
Universal Jubilee Throughout the Land. 



X. 

APPALLING PUBLIC CALAMITIES, DISASTERS, PANICS, Etc. 

1799. — Death of George Washington, the Father op his Country, and 
America's Most Illustrious Citizen. 

The Whole World Does Honor, hy Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted 
Worth and Immortal Fame. 

1811. — Desolating Earthquake at the West. 
All Along the Valley of the Mississippi. 

1815. — The Ever-Memorable September Gale. 

Unparalleled Since the Settlement of the Country. 

1835. — Tremendous Fire in New York, in the Richest Locality in America. 
700 Richly Filled Warehouses laid in Ashes, in the Dead of Winter. 

1844. — Explosion on Board the United States Steamer Princeton. 
The Secretaries of State and the Navy Instantly Killed. 

1849. — Astor-Place Opera-House Riots, New York. 
A Mob of 20,000 Men : Lamentable Loss of Life. 

1849. — Awful Visitations op the " Angel of Death." 

Yellow Fever and Cholera Scourges, at Different Periods. 

1851. — Frightful Panic in a N. Y. School of Eighteen Hundred Pupils. 
Scores of Children Suffocated to Death. 

1854. — Loss op the Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic. 

Collision with Steamer Vesta, in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog. 

1857. — Foundering of the Steamer Central America. 

More than 400 Lives Lost, and $2,000,000 in Treasure. 

1857. — Terrible Crisis in the Business and Financial World. 
Known as " the Great Panic." 

1858. — Burning of the Steamship Austria. 
Nearly 500 Lives Lost. 



60 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 

I860. — Fall of the Pemberton Mills, in Lawrence, Mass. 
Nearly 1,000 Persons Buried in the Ruins. 

1865. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. 
Darkest Page in the History of the Nation. 

1868. — Disastrous Earthquake in California. 

Severe and Repeated Shocks Over a Wide Extent. 

1869. — AvoNDALE Com.iery Disaster, in Pennsylv.\nia. 
More than 100 Suffocated in the JUines. 

1871. — Burning of Chicago, III., the Commercial Metropolis of the North- 
West. 
73 Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed. 

1872. — Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston. 

The Great Financial and Mercantile Center of New England Consumed. 




KO. 
1. 



subject. page. 

Illustrated Gilt and Colored Title- 
Page. 

SiGSISO THE DECLAEATION OF INDEPEND- 
ENCE (Frontispiece). 

Glory of the American Century, - - - 7 

The Opened Pages, _ - - - , - 15 

The Record of Time, - - . ... 17 

Symbolical Head-piece, ----- 49 

Genius of Art, -------61 

Ringing of the Bell, July 4th, 1776, - - - 05 

Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, 1776, - 67 

Gates's Head-quarters, ----- 72 

General Burgoyne ; Portrait and Autography - 74 

General Gates; Portrait and Autography - 74 

Capitulation OF Bi'EGovNE's Army, - - 77 

Hoisting First Naval Flag, - - - - - 81 

^ohvi 'PsiVL\ Jon&s; Portrait and Autography - 83 

First American Naval Victory, - - 84 

Wonderful Dark Day, May 19, 1780, . - 88 

Traveling during the Dark Day, - - - 89 

Change of Scene after tlie Dark Day, - - 93 

Price of Arnold's Treason, - - - - 97 

Capture of Andre, ------ 99 

Benedict Arnold; Por/rai/ aiirf ^u^o^rapft, - 100 

West Point in 1780, ------ 101 

General Arnold's Head-quarters, - - - 102 

The House where Cornwallis Surrendered, - 104 

Cornwallis's Surrender, - - - - 106 

CoYnviO.\\\^\ Portrait and Autography - - 110 

Washington's Sword, ------ 112 

The Washington Elm, Cambridge, Mass., - 114 

Washington's Resignation, - - - 115 

Amity between England and America, - - 119 

George ibeThhd; Portrait and Autograph. - 120 
First Minister to England,— Reception 

of John Adams, ------ 122 

John Adsima; Portrait and Autograph, - - 123 



NO. 

33. 

36. 

37. 

38. 

39. 

40. 

41. 

42. 

43. 

44. 

45. 

46. 

47. 

48. 

49. 

50. 

51. 

52. 

53. 

54. 

55. 
56. 
57. 
68. 
59. 
60. 

61. 
62. 
63. 
64. 
65. 

66. 
67. 



sub.)ect. page 

Scene in Shays's Rebellion, - - - - 125 

Shays's Forces in Massachusetts, - - 127 

Daniel Shays ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 128 

General Lincoln ; Portrait and Autograph, - 130 

Enrolling the Constitution, _ . _ _ 132 

Conyention at Philadelphia, 1787, - - 134 

Fr.inklin Pleading for Pacification, - - - 136 

Washington's Inauguration Bible, - - - 139 

First Inauguration of a Pbesidekt, - 141 

Presidential Mansion, 1789, - - - - 143 

Presidential Mansion, 1876, - - - - 143 

Treating with the Indians, ----- 146 

Wayne's Defeat of the Indians, - - 148 

Anlhony Wayne; Portrait and Autograph, - 150 

Genera.} St. Cluir; Po7-trait and Autograph, - 151 

" Little Turtle "; /"ortroi/, - - - - 152 

Results of the Cotton-Gin, . - - - 153 
Eli Whitney's Cotton-Gin, 1793, - - 155 
Eli Wliitney; Po?7rai/ anrf vl((/o;/ra/j/(, - - 157 
Causes of the Whiskey Insurrection in Penn- 
sylvania, -------- 160 

Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, 161 

David Bradford; Portrait, - - - - 164 

General Henry Lee; Portrait, - - - - 166 

Washington. D. C. in 1876, - - - - 171 

National Capitol in 1876, 172 

Symbolic Statue of America, Surmounting the 

U. S. Capitol, - - I"2 

Martha Washington ; Portrait and Autograph, 175 

De.\th of Washington, December 14, 1799, 177 

George W.asbington. as Colonel, - - - 178 

George Washington, General U. S. A., - - 1'9 
George Washington, President of the United 

States; Portrait and Autograph, - - - 179 

Tomb of Washington, ----- 180 

U.S. Tribute to Barbary, 182 

Commodore Dale ; Portrait and Autograph, - 183 



62 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



70. 

71. 

72. 

73. 
74. 
76. 
76. 
77. 

78. 
79. 
80. 
81. 
82. 
8.1. 
81. 
85. 
86. 
8T. 
88. 
89. 
90. 
91. 
92. 
93. 

91. 
95. 
96. 
97. 



100. 
101. 

102. 
103. 
IW. 

109. 
106. 
107. 

108. 
109. 

110. 

111. 
112. 
113. 
lU. 
116. 
110. 
117. 
118. 
119. 
120. 
121. 
122. 
123. 
124. 
125. 
126. 
127. 
128. 
129. 
130. 
131. 



RCBTKCr. PAGE. 

Commodore Preble ; Portrait and Autograph, 184 
Commodore Bainbridge ; Portrait and Auto- 
graph, -------- 184 

Burning of Uie PLiladelpbIa, - - - - 185 

CommcHloro Decatur ; Portrait and Auto- 
graph, -------- 186 

BOMDARDME.VT OF TKITOLI, - - - - 187 

Monument to Alexander Hamilton, - - 189 

Alexander Hamilton ; Portrait and Autograph, 190 

Aaron Burr; y'or/rai( an</ ..Ju/osrapA, - - 190 
Scene of tub Bokr and Hamilton Duel, 

Weehawken, ------ 193 

Total Solar Eclipse, in 1806, - - - 197 

Progress of the Solar Eclipse, - - - - 198 

Total Eclipse, in 18U9, ----- 199 

Eclipse, as seen in Brazil, - - - - 202 

Burr's Flight, 204 

Breakisu up of Burr's E.xpedition, - 208 

Burr and His Deluded Followers, - - - 208 

Iheodoain; Portrait and Autograph, - - 210 

First Steam boat on the Hudson, - - - 212 

Robert Fulton ; Portrait and Autograph, - 213 

Fulton's First Steam boat, - - - 216 

After the Earthqu.ike, 218 

Scene of the Great Earthquake in the West, 220 

Earthquake Scene in San Francisco, - 223 

Captain Hull; Portrait, 227 

AcriON UETWKEN THE FBIOATES CONSTI- 
TUTION AND GUEKKIEKE, - - - - 230 

Perry's Flag on Lake Erie, _ - . - 234 

Commodore Perry; Portrait and Autograph, - 236 

Battle of Lake Erie,— Perry's Victory, 238 

General Harrison ; Portrait and Autograph, • 'HI 

A Cloud on the Nation.il Ksiutcheon, - - 242 

General Winder; Portrait and Autograph, - 244 

President Madison ; Portrait, - - - - 246 
Capture and Uurnino of Washington 

BY THE British, in 1814, - - - - 247 
Jack's OITerinK to his Country, - - - 2.10 
Commodore McDonough ; Portrait, - - 251 
McDoNouoH's Victory on Lake Cham- 
plain, 254 

American Defenses at New Orleans, - - 2.17 

Andrew J.ickson ; Portrait and Autograph, • '-'00 
Battle of New Orleans,— Jackson's 

Terrific Slaughter of the British, 262 

Destruction by the Great Gale and Flood, - 204 
The Ever-Memorable Gale, September 23, 

1815, 266 

Horrors of the Whirlwind throughout New 

England, 269 

The Landing of Lafayette at New York, - 272 

Lafayette ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 274 

Sword of Honor Presented to Lafayette, - 276 

Lafayette's Residence, ----- 277 

Lafayette's Birthplace, ----- 279 

Lafayette's Tomb, 281 

Preliminaries of the Code of Honor, - - 282 

Henry Clay; Portrait and Autograph, - - 284 

John Uandolph ; Portrait and Autograph, - 286 

DUELINII-GROUND at BLAIlENSnURO, - 288 

The Jefferson Mansion at Monticello, - - 292 

Thomas Jefferson; Portrait and Autograph, - 294 

The Adams Mansion at Quincy, . . - 296 

•llie Victor's Wreath, 297 

Robert Y.Hayne; yorrraif, . - - - 299 

Daniel Webster; /"nr(rai(, - - - - Ml 

Webster's Ueply to Hayno, - - - - ,104 

Jo.soph Smith; Portrait and Autograph, - .108 

Briglmm V(»ung; Portrait and Autograph, - 310 

Mormon Temple, ------ 312 

Salt Lake City, the Mormon Ziok, - 313 



no. 
132. 

133. 
134. 

135. 

i:i6. 

137. 
138. 
139. 
140. 
141. 

142. 
143. 

144. 
145. 
140. 
147. 
148. 

149. 
150. 

151. 
1.52. 
153. 
154. 

155. 
150. 
157. 
158. 
159. 



161. 
162. 

103. 
164. 
165. 
166. 
107. 
168. 

169. 
170. 

171. 
172. 
173. 
174. 

175. 
176. 
177. 
178. 

179. 
180. 

181. 
182. 



184. 
185. 
186. 



SUBJECT. PAGE. 

Appeal of a Beautiful Girl to Gibbs to Spare 

her Life, 314 

Pirate Gibbs; PorfraiJ, 316 

GiBBS Butchering the Crew of one of 

HIS Prizes, ------- 318 

Favorite SUU Emblem, S. C, - - - - 320 

Old State-House at Columbia, . - - - S22 
George McT>\it&e; Portrait and Autograph, - 3*24 
J. C. Calhoun ; Portrait and Autograph, - 326 
Meteoric Shower at Boston, - - - 329 
Meteoric Shower, as seen at Niagara Falls, - 331 
Kemarkable Meteoric Display on the Missis- 
sippi, 334 

The Preservation, 337 

Attempted Assassination of President 
Jackson, -------339 

Richard Iiawrence; Portrait, - - - - 341 

Hanging the Telegraph Wire, - - . - .'(45 

The Orkhnal Telegraphic Instrument, 347 

Professor Morse ; Portrait and Autograph, - 349 
Orders of Glory Conferred on Professor 

Morse, - 351 

View of Wall Street during the Fire, - - 356 
The Great Conflaoration, as Viewed 

from Coenties Slip, - - - - 367 

Ruins of the Merchants' Exchange, - - 360 

Monster Petition to Congress, - - • - 362 

John Quincy Adams; Portrait and Autograph, 364 
John Quincy Adams Defending toe 

Bight of Petition in Congress, - - 368 
Safe place tor the Key to the Public Funds, - 373 
Thomas H. Benton; Portrait and Autograph, 376 
Fac Simile Copy of Expunging Resolution, - 377 
Singular Form of Auror.al Arch, - - - 379 
Magnificent Aurora Borealis of No- 
vember 13 AND 14, iai7, - - - - 381 
View of the Aurora Borealis in its Early 

Stages, 384 

CniA:m\ 'WUkes; Portrait and Autograph, - 388 
View of the Antarctic Continent Dis- 
covered BY Com. Wilkes, U. S. N. - 390 
Wilkes's Party Dealing with the Savages, - 392 
Effect of the Temperance Reformation, - - 393 

Signing the Pledge, .396 

Distinguished Temperance Advocates, 399 
Exploring the North-west, - - - - 402 
Planting American Flag on the Rocky Moun- 
tains, by Fremont, ----- 404 
John C. Fremont; Portrait and Autograph, - 406 
Fremont on his Great Exploring Tour to the 
Far West and Rocky Mountains, - - - 406 

Charter vs. Constitution, 408 

Thomas W. Dorr; /"orfraKonrf ^ll(o.«rap/l, - 410 

Governor King; Por(mi<anrf>4«ro5rnpA, - 412 
Final Dispersion of Governor Dorr 

and his Forces, ------ 413 

■nie Black Flag, ^'6 

Captain McKenzie ; Portrait and Autograph, 417 

Philip Spencer; Por/rai/allrf .-liKoi/rnpA, - 419 
Hanging of Ringleaders from the 

Yard-arm, ------- 421 

View of the Comet when Nearest the Earth, - 427 
Appearance of the Comet in rcLL 

Splendor, ------- 428 

Telescopic View of the Comet, - - - 430 
The Great Day Prophesied by the Second Ad- 
ventistfl, --------431 

Symbolical Illustrations of the Sec- 
ond Advent Prophecies, - - - 433 
'WMlnm WMer; Portrait and Autograph, - 437 
Stockton's Great Gun, the "Peacemaker," - 439 
President Tyler; Portrait and Autograph, - 440 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



63 



NO. SUBJECT. PAGE. 

187. SecretaxyGUmeT; Portrait and Autograph, - 442 

188. E-xplosioii of the Great Gun on Board the 

United States Steamship Princeton, - - 443 

189. Secretary Upshur ; Portrait and Autograph, - 444 

190. Commodore Stockton ; Portrait and Auto- 

graph, .------- 446 

191. Trinity Church, New York, - - - - 450 

192. Bishop B. T. Onderdonk ; Portrait and Auto- 

graph, -------- 452 

193. Bishop H. U. Onderdonk ; Portrait and Auto- 

graph, -------- 452 

194. "It Stingeth Like an Adder," - - - - 455 

195. Relieving Pain by the Use of Ether, - - 456 

196. The Three Claimants of the Discovery of 

Painless Surgery, by Ether, _ - - 458 

197. MONUMEXT Erected in Honor of the 

Discovert of Ether, - - - - 402 

198. The Inventor Toiling in His Garret, - - 464 

199. Elias Howe, Jr. ; />or<roi( and ^!j(05rrapA, - 406 

200. The Old and New: Sewing by Hand and 

Machine, 408 

201. House in which Spiritual Rapplngs Originated, 4T2 

202. The Misses Fox ; Portraits, - - - - 474 

203. D. D. Home ; Portrait, ----- 475 

204. Cora L. V. Hatch ; Portrait, - - - - 477 

205. Spiritual Autograph of Lord Bacon, - - 477 

206. A. J. Davis ; Portrait, ----- 477 

207. Judge Edmonds ; Portrait, - - - - 477 

208. Spiritual Autograph of Swedenborg, - - 477 
309. Scene of Misery during the Famine, - - 479 

210. Corn for the Land of Want and Woe, - - 482 

211. Arrival of the Jamestown at Cork, - 484 

212. Storming of Chapultepec, - - - 487 

213. President Polk ; Portrait and Autograph, - 488 

214. General Taylor ; Portrait and Autograph, - 489 

215. Santa. Anna.; Portrait and Autograph, - - 49U 

216. General Scott ; Portrait and Autograph, - 491 

217. General Scott's Grand Entrance into 

the Mexican Capital, - - - - 492 

218. Lieutenant Lynch ; Portrait and Autograph, - 496 

219. Vallev of the Jordan and Dead Sea, 497 

220. Eight Bank of the Dead Sea, - - - - 498 

221. Mining Operations in California, - - - 500 

222. Suttf,r's Mill, where Gold was First 

Discovered in 1848, ----- 502 

223. John A. Sutter; Por^raie, - - - - 503 

224. James W. Marshall; PorfraU,- - - - 505 

225. Forrest, as Spartacus, ----- 508 

226. Edwin Forrest ; Portrait and Autograph, - 510 

227. 'W.C.Macieady; Portrait and Autograph, - 511 

228. AsTOR Place Opeea-House Kiots, - - 513 

229. Struck with the Cholera, ----- 515 

230. Monument to the Victims op Cholera, 517 

231. Horrors of the Great Epidemic, - - _ 519 

232. Professor Webster's Murder Appliances, - 523 

233. l>oc{orPar\iman; Portrait aitd Autograph, - 525 
231. Professor Webster; Portrait and Autograph, 527 

235. Professor Webster's Cell in Prison, - 529 

236. Kenvy Grinnen; Portrait and Autograph, - 634 

237. The Advance and Rescue, - _ - _ 535 

238. DocioT Kane; Portrait and Autograph, - 538 

239. View of the Arctic Regions, - - - 539 

240. Jenny lAni; Portrait and Autograph, - - 543 

241. P. T.Barnnm; Portrait and Autograph, - M5 

242. Jenny Lind's Appearance at Castle Garden, - 547 

243. Double Execution in San Francisco, - - 550 

244. Seal of the California Vigilance Committee, - 552 
215. Executions by the Vigilance Commit- 
tee, IN San Francisco, - - - - 555 

246. George Steers ; Portrait, ----- 660 

247. Yacht America; J. C. Stevens, Commo- 

dore, --------662 



NO. 

248. 
249. 

250. 

251. 
252. 

253. 

254. 
255. 

256. 
257. 
258. 

259. 
260. 
261. 



262. 
263. 



261. 
265. 
266. 
267. 
268. 
269. 
270. 
271. 
272. 

273. 
274. 

275. 
276. 
277. 

278. 
279. 
280. 

2S1 
282. 
283. 

284. 
285. 
286. 



289. 
290. 
291. 
292. 
293. 

294. 
295. 
296. 
297. 
298. 
299. 
300. 
301. 



SUBJECT. PAGE. 

"Cup of All Nations," Won by the America, 664 
School-House on Greenwich Avenue, New 

York, the Scene of the Awful Panic, - - 509 
Frightful Catastrophe in a Public School- 
House, New York, - ----- r>TI 

Monster Sea-Serpent at Full Length, - - 575 
Appearance of the Huge Sea-Serpent 

along the Atlantic Coast, - - - 579 
United States Steamer Mississippi, Con- 
veying Kossuth, ------ 583 

Governor Kossuth; Portrait a7id Autograph, 585 
Grand Military Reception of Gov- 

ERNOB Kossuth in New York, - - 688 
Treaty of Peace, Amity, etc., - - - - 592 

Commodore Perry; Portrait and Autograph, 694 
Naval Expedition to Japan, under Com- 
modore M. C. Perry, - - - - 697 

Interior of the World's Fair, New York, - 600 
Theodore Sedgwick ; Portrait and Autograph, 602 
Crystal Palace of New York, for the 
Exhibition of the Industries of All 

N.iTIONS, ------- 604 

Steamship Arctic, ------ 608 

Loss OF THE Collins Steamship Arctic, 
BY Collision at Noonday in Mid- 
ocean, --------612 

Liberty for Kansas, ------ 616 

Senator Butler ; Portrait and Autograph, - 618 

Senator Snmner ; Portrait and Autograph, - 620 

Assault on Senator Sumner, by P. S. Brooks, 622 

Preston S. Brooks ; Portrait, - - - - 623 

Trial of Mrs. Cunningham, - - - - 626 

Doctor Burdell; Portrait, - - - - 628 

Mrs. Cunningham; Portrait, - - - - 630 

House in which Doctor Burdell was Mur- 
dered, 632 

Captain Herndon on the Wheel-house, - - 635 
Foundering of the Ste.amer Central 

America, ------- 637 

Victims of the Central America, - - - 639 

Run on a Bank, ------- 644 

Excitement in Business Circles during 

THE Great Panic, ----- 616 

Effects of the Hard Times, - - - - 648 

Book of Requests for Prayers, _ - - 663 
Group of Eminent Revival Preachers, dur- 
ing the National Century - - - - 657 

DwightL. Moody; Portrait, - - - - 661 

Ira D. Sankey ; Portrait, ----- 661 

Revival Meeting in Brooklyn, Con- 
ducted BY Messrs. Moody and Sankey, 663 
Morphy's World-Renowned Triumphs, - - G66 
PaulMorphy; Portrait and Autograph, - - 668 
Paul Moephv, Playing Eight Games 

OF Chess Without Seeing the Boakds, 670 

Escape from the Burning Steamer, - - 673 
Burning of the Steamship, Austria, 

with Five Hundred Souls on Board, 675 

Last View of the Unfortunate Steamer, - 678 

Accompaniments of the Prize Ring, - - 681 

John Monissey; Portrait and Autograph, - 683 

J. C.I£eenan; Portrait and Autograph,- - 686 
Homicide of Hon. P. B. Key, by Hon. D. 

E. Sickles, ------- 689 

Philip Barton Key; Portrait, - - - - 691 

Mrs. Sic\i.\es; Portrait and Autograph, - - 693 

D. E. Sickles ; Portrait and Autograph, - • 695 

Petroleum Wells, 698 

Petroleum Wells in Pennsylvania, - - - 700 

Process of Boring for Petroleum, - - - 701 

Burning of one of the Gre.\t Oil Wells, 704 

The Spot where Broderick Fell, - - - 707 



64 



ILLUSTKATIONS. 



»0. SUBJECT. PAOE. 

302. D. C. Broderick ; Portrait, . ... 709 
308. Thb Body of Senatok Brodebick Lyiso 

IN State, San Fka.ncisoo, - - - 711 

304. Capture of JoLii Brown, ----- 715 

305. John Brown; Portrait a»d Autograph, - - 717 
80C. HAUfER'a Fekkv a>d tub Arsenal 

Taken by Brown, 710 

307. Tbe Uescue, 723 

308. Ktiiss OF Pemberton Mills, - - - 7M 

309. " Lizzie" Amidst the Awful Ruins, - - - 730 
810. Japanese Box Containing ilie Treaty, - - 732 

311. President Blx-iianan's Kecei-tion of thb 

Grand Embassy from Japan, - - 734 

312. Ambassadors Simmi Boojsen Nokanii and 

Mooragaki Awajsi Kokanii, - - - - 738 

313. The Great Eastern, ------ 740 

314. Arrival of the Steamship Obeat East- 

ern, at New York, - - - - 744 

315. Execution of General Walker, - - - 748 

316. General Walker; /'or/rai( anrf /(Mfojra/iA, - 750 

317. Landing of General Walker's Filli- 

busteiuno Expedition at Trc.xillo, - 752 

318. The Prince of Wales at Washington's Tomb, 750 

319. Prince of Wales; /»or/rai(an</ .^u/ojrapA, - 758 
3'20. Grand Ball Gives to thk Pbisce op 

Wales, in Boston, ----- 761 
821. Flag of Fort Sumter, After the Bombard- 
ment, -------- 764 

322. Major Anderson ; Portrait and Autograph, - 766 

323. General Beauregard; Portrait and Auto- 

graph, - - - - - ---768 

324. Interior of Fort Sumter abtek thb 

Bombardment, ------ 770 

325. " Cruiser." Untamed, ----- 772 
826. Johns. Rarey; Portrait,- - - - - 774 

327. Mr. Karey Exhibiting bis Celebrated Method 

of Taming Horses, ----- 777 

328. Monument on the Bull Run Battle-field, - 780 

329. General McDowell ; Portrait and Autograph, 782 

330. General Johnston ; Portrait and Autograph, - 784 

331. Battle of Bill Hi n, ----- 786 

332. Interior of the Tower of the Monitor, - - 789 

333. Commodore Franklin Buchanan ; Portrait 

and Autograph, - - - - - 791 

334. Naval Co.mbat between the Herrimao 

AND Monitor, - - - - - 794 

335. Lieutenant Worden ; A>r/rai<ond ^uiograpA, 796 

336. Burjing the Dead at Antielam, - - - 798 

337. General McC'Iellan ; Portrait and Autograph, 800 

338. General Bumside; Portrait, - - - 801 
3:19. Battle of Antietam, ----- 802 

340. General *' Slonowall " Jackson ; Portrait, - 803 

341. General Hooker ; Portrait and Autograph, - 804 
312. Pen used In Signing the Proclamation, - - 807 

343. Secretary Seward ; Portrait, - - . - 808 

344. Secretary Stanton ; Portrait, - . - - 809 
ZVu President Lincoln ; Portrait a7id Autograph, - 810 

346. Proclamation of Emancipation, - - 812 

347. Openitinns at VIcksburg, ----- 817 

348. General Pemberton ; Portrait, ... 819 

349. Siege of Vicksburg, by General Grant, - - 820 

350. General McPherson; /'or/rai/, - - - 822 

351. I.NTERVIEW between GENERALS ORAKT 

AND Pemberton, ----- 823 

3.'52. Meade's Head-quartern, ----- 826 

.TV3. General Meade; Portrait and Autograph, - 828 

3.'-4. Battle of Oettysbfro, - - - - 830 

355. General Longslreet; Ptirlrait and Autograph, 832 

358. Soldiers' Monument at Gettysburg,- - - 834 

357. Rev. H. W. Beeeher Defending the American 

Union, In Exeter Hall, I>ondon, - - 838 

358. Mr. Beecber'B Church, Brooklyn, N. Y., - 842 



no. scdjktt. paoe. 

359. Statue otBeetlioven, In Boston, - - - 844 

360. The Great Orgiin in Boston .Music Hall, - - 816 

361. Geuiusof Art and Music, - . - - - 848 

362. Merchant Vessel Burned by the Alabama, - 851 

363. Captain Semnies; Portrait and Autograph, - 853 

364. Captain WInslow ; Portrait and Autograph, - 855 

365. Naval Contest between the Kear- 

8AROE AND Alabama, - - - - 857 

366. Farragut's Flag-Ship, " Hartford," - - - 859 

367. Admiral Farragut; Portrait, - - - - 801 

368. Admiral Porter; Portrait, - - - - 861 

369. Admiral Foote; Portrait,- - - - - 861 

370. Admiral Dupont; Portrait, - - . - 861 

371. Union Naval Victory in Mobile Bay, - 864 

372. Head-quarters, .\llanta, Ga., - - - - S68 

373. General Sherman ; Portrait ami Autograph, - 870 

374. SUER-MAN's Great March TUBot'OU TBB 

Heart OF the SoiTH, - - - - 872 

375. General Grant Stating Terms of Surrender, - 877 

376. Richmond, the Confederate Capital, 

entered by the Union Army, - - 880 

377. Lincoln's Early Home, 887 

378. Ford's Theater at Washington, - - - 888 

379. The Assassination of President Lin- 

coln, ------ -.890 

380. House where Lincoln Died, - - - - 891 

381. J. V!i\keaBoolb; Portrait and Autograph, - 892 

382. Lincoln's Residence at Springfield, 111., - - 893 

383. Sergeant Boston Corbett ; Portrait, - - 8»4 

384. Burial Place of Lincoln, 896 

385. Section of the Atlantic Cable, - - - - 899 

386. Cyrus W. Field; /'orfraifond, -liifo.vrapA, - 901 

387. Arrival of the Great Eastern at Heart's Con- 

tent, with the Atlantic Cable, - - - 905 

383. Mountain Scene on the Pacific Railroad, - 907 

389. C0.MPLETI0N OF THE Pacific Railroad, - 911 

390. P. S.Gilmore; /'or(rai/ mid /<u/offraj)A,- - 917 

391. National Peace Jubilee and Klusical Festival 

at Boston, 920 

392. Mr. Ogden's House Untouched in the Midst 

of the Great Fire, 924 

393. Burning of Chicago, October 8 and 9, 

1871, 928 

.194. Trinity Church, Boston, Destroyed, - .931 
895. Terrible Fire in the Bisiness Heabt 

OF Boston, Nov. 9 and 10, 1872, - - 934 

396. Emblemalic Head piece, ----- 938 

397. Symbols of the Co-operative Labor Organiza- 

tions, --------910 

398. Spieit of the Gra.vge Movement, - - 9)2 

399. Scene During the Trial of H. W. Beeeher, - 945 

400. Rev. Henry Ward Beeeher; Portrait and Au- 

tograph, --------947 

401. Tlieodore Tilton; Portrait and Autograph, - 918 

402. Mrs. Tilton; Portrait and Autograph, - - 919 

403. House in which JetTerson Wrote the Declara- 

tion of Independence, ----- 951 

404. Openino of the Centennial Exhibition 

IN PlIILAIlELPHIA, ----- 953 

405. The Corliss Engine, ------ 954 

400. Exhibition Bcildinos in Philadelphia, 956 

407. Independence Hall, Jily 4, 1876, - - 957 

408. Union Square, New Y'ork, July 4, 1876, - 959 

409. Readino the Orkiinal Declaration op 

Independence, July 4, 1876, - - - 961 

410. Entrance of the N. Y. 7th Regiment, - - 963 

411. State Avenue, Nal'l Centennial Exhibition, - 964 

412. Woman's Pavilion, NaflCentenn'lExbiblt'n, 965 

413. TheTunislanTeiit,Sat'l Cenlenn'l ExhlbU'n, 966 

414. All Hail TO THE Hereaj-teb! - - - 968 

415. Flag of the German Empire, - - - - 969 
410. Emperor William ; PorlraU and Autograph, - 909 



BIKTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC— 1T7G. 



Declaration of American Independence and National Sovereignty, July Fourtli, 177G — Tlie Gauntlet of 
Defiance thrown at the Feet of the British Empire by Her Youngest Colonies. — Vast Disparity, in 
Power and Resources, between the Contestants. — The whole World looks on Astonished — Seven 
Years' Bloody and Desolating War. — The American Cause Triumphant. — Grandest Jlodern Event. 
America Resists Unjust Taxation. — Haughty Obstinacy of King George — Burning Eloquence of Pat- 
rick Henry — His Summons, "We Must Fight" — Washington Endorses tliis Sentiment. — Determina- 
tion of the People. — War Preferred to Submission — Momentous Action by Congress — Separation from 
England Decreed. — Effect of the Act in America.— Its Reception in England — Excitement of the 
King and Court.— Lord Chatliam, America's Advocate. — Mis Passionate Change of Views —Scorch- 
ing Speech against the Colonies. — He is Struck Dead while Speaking — Magnanimity of Burke and Fox. 
— Kecognition from France Secured — Her Timely Aid in the Struggle — Victories over the British 
Armies. — England Gives Up the Contest. — World-wide Welcome to the New Nation. 



*' It will be celebrated by Hucccedinff peneratione, as tbe ffreflt annivernary festival. It ought to be commemornted as the day of deliverance, 
by Bolenin acta nf devotion to Almiiiliiy God. It ou;5ht to be t-nkuinizeil willi Momp and parade, with ehowa, pames, sports, guna, bella, bon- 
fireB, and illuminations, from one end of the continent to the other, f'Om thin time tortli, forevermore."— John Adaus. 



^c-uczi^^ .' -^-j:, %'r 



NE HUNDRED YE.A.RS ago, namely, on 
tlie Fourth of July, 1776, tliere was born in 
the western world a New Nation, — the Re- 
public OF THE United States. Defiance to 
tyrants was emblazoned in empyreal light upon 
her brow, and Freedom and Justice were the 
frontlets between her eyes. Mon- 
archs, crowned with kingly dia- 
dems, stood awed at the august 
manifesto, and at the solemn ar- 
raignment of King George before 
the judgment of mankind, and 
parliaments and cabinets started 
in dismay to their feet; but the 
People, as thej' descried the eagle 
of Liberty spreading her wings, 
and soaring proudly aloft, breath- 
ed freer and took stronger heart, 
as the clear ring of her voice 
sounded through the air, declar- 
ing, with grandly rounded enun- 
ciation, that '-all men are created 
equal." 
Refusing to pay the tribute of taxation arbitrarily imposed 
upon them at the point of the bayonet by the British crown, — 




1776. 



G6 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



failing, too, to move the king and liis min- 
isters from their career of liaughty and 
reckless obstinacy, — the thirteen American 
colonies found themselves reduced to the 
alternative of abject submission to their 
so-called royal masters, or of armed resist- 
ance. Alread}' there had flaslied through- 
out the country the electric words of Pat- 
rick Henry, " We must fight I An appeal 
to arms and to the God of Hosts is all 
that is left us. I repeat it, sir, we must 
fight ! " And as tlie blood of patriot 
hearts had now flowed freely and bravely 
at Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker 
Hill, "Washington declared, in words of 
solemn emphasis and characteristic brevitj', 
" Nothing short of Ixdepesdexce, it ap- 
pears to me, can possibly do." He also 
warmly aj)proved and commended Paine's 
pamphlet, " Common Sense," written to 
this end. The sons of liberty shouted their 
responsive acclaim to this manly summons 
from the great American soldier — Wash- 
ington — and, like the sound of many wa- 
ters, the spirit of national independence 
which thus possessed the people came upon 
the continental congress, then in session in 
the State-house at Philadelphia, Pennsyl- 
vania. 

It was in this temple of freedom, where- 
in was sitting as noble and august a legis- 
lative body as the world ever saw, that 
Richard Henry Lee introduced a resolu- 
tion, on the 7th of June, 1776, declaring, 
"That the United Colonies are and ouglit 
to be free and independent States, and that 
their political connection with Great Brit- 
ain is and ought to be dissolved." Upon 
this resolution there sprang up at once an 
earnest and powerful debate. It was op- 
posed, principally, on the ground that it 
was premature. Some of the best and 
strongest advocates of colonial rights spoke 
and voted against the motion, which at last 
was adopted only by a vote of seven States 
in its favor to six against. Some of the 
delegates had not received definite instruc- 
tions from their constituents, and others 
had been requested to vote against it. Its 
further consideration was according!)' post- 
poned until there was a prospect of greater 



unanimity. On the eleventh of June, 
therefore, a committee was appointed to 
draft a formal Declaration ; this commit- 
tee consisting of Benjamin Franklin, John 
Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Roger Sherman, 
and Robert R. Livingston. 

On the twenty-eighth of June, the com- 
mittee made their report, and presented 
the Declaration whiih the}' had drawn uj). 
The first or original draft was penned by 
Mr. Jefferson, chairman of the committee. 
On the second of Jul}', congress proceeded 
to the serious consideration of this mo- 
mentous paper ; the discussion, as to the 
tone and statements characterizing the 
document, and the propriety of adopting 
at that time a measure so decisive, lasted 
for nearly three days, and was extremely 
earnest. It was so powerfully opposed by 
some of the members, that Jefferson com- 
pared the opposition to " the ceaseless ac- 
tion of gravity, weighing upon us bj' night 
and by day." Its supporters, however, 
were the leading minds, and urged its 
adoption with masterlj' eloquence and abil- 
ity. John Adams, Jefferson asserts, was 
" the colossus in that debate," and '• fought 
fearlessly for every word of it." The bond 
which was formed between those two great 
men on this occasion seems never to have 
been completely severed, both of them 
finally expiring, with a sort of poetic jus- 
tice, on the fiftieth anniversary of the act 
which constituted their chief glory. 

Well and truly did the mighty patriot 
Adams characterize this event as the most 
memorable epoch in the history of Amer- 
ica. " I am apt to believe," said he, " that 
it will be celebrated by succeeding genera- 
tions, as the great anniversary festival. It 
ought to be commemorated as the day of 
deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to 
Almiglity God. It ought to be solemnized 
with pomp and parade, with shows, games, 
sports, guns, bells, bonfires and illumina- 
tions, from one end of this continent to 
the other, from this time forth forever- 
more ! " The result has equaled the great 
patriot's wishes. Tradition gives a dra- 
matic eft'ect to its announcement. It was 
known, throughout the city, that the great 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



67 



event was to be determined that day, by 
the last formal acts ; but the closed doors 
of couo-ress excluded the populace from 
witnessing the august assembly or its pro- 
ceedings, though thousands of anxious 
citizens had gathered around the building, 
eager to hear the words of national des- 
tiny soon to be officially proclaimed. From 
the hour when congress came together in 
the forenoon, all business was suspended 
throughout the city, and the old bellman 
steadily remained at his post in the steeple, 
prepared to sound forth to the waiting 
multitudes the expected glad tidings. He 
had even stationed a boy at the door of the 
hall below, to give immediate signal of the 
turn of events. This bell, manufactured 



felt such a professional pride, the electri- 
fied old patriot rung forth such a joyous 
peal as was never heard before, nor ceased 
to hurl it backward and forward, till every 
voice joined in its notes of gladness and 
triumph. The roar of cannon, and illu- 
minations from every house and hill-top, 
added to these demonstrations of uni- 
versal rejoicing. 

And this was the type of that exultation 
which ever^'where manifested itself, as the 
news spread with lightning rapidity from 
city to city and from State to State. Every 
American patriot regarded the declaration 
by congress as the noble performance of 
an act which had become inevitable ; and 
the paper itself as the complete vindica- 




H.\LL OF ISDEPENDEXCE, PHILADELPHIA, 1776. 



in England, bore upon its ample curve the 
now prophetic inscription, "Proclaim lib- 
erty throughout all the land unto all the 
inhabitants thereof." Hours passed on, 
and fear began to take the place of hope 
in many a heart ; even the venerable and 
always cheerful bellman was overheard in 
his despondent solilotpv, " They will never 
do it ! they will never do it ! " Finally, 
at about two o'clock in the afternoon, 
the door of the mysterious hall swung 
open, and- a voice exclaimed, "Passed! — 
it has passed ! " The word was caught up 
by ten thousand glad mouths, and the 
watch-boy now clapped his hands and 
shouted, "Ring I Ring!" Seizing the iron 
tongue of the bell in which he had long 



tion of America before the bar of public 
opinion throughout the world. When it 
was read by the magistrates and other 
functionaries, in the cities and towns of 
the whole nation, it was greeted with 
shouts, bonfires, and processions. It was 
read to the troops, drawn up under arms, 
and to the congregations in churches by 
ministers from the pulpit. Washington 
hailed the declaration with joj'. It is 
true, it was but a formal recognition of a 
state of things which had long existed, but 
it put an end to all those temporizing hopes 
of reconciliation which had clogged the 
military action of the country. On the 
ninth of July, therefore, Washington 
caused it to be read at six o'clock in the 



08 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



evening, at the head of each brigade of 
the army. "Tlie general liopes,'' said he 
in his orders, "that this important event 
will serve as a fresh incentive to every 
officer and soldier, to act with fidelity and 
courage, as knowing that now the peace 
and safety of his country depend, under 
God, solely on the success of our arms ; 
and tliat he is now in the service of a 
State, possessed of sufficient power to re- 
ward his merit, and advance him to the 
highest honors of a free country." The 
troops listened to the reading of this with 
eager attention, and at its close broke forth 
in tumultuous applause. 

The excitable populace of New York 
were not content with the ringing of bells 
and the other usual manifestations of 
public joy. There was a leaden eques- 
trian statue of George the Third in the 
Bowling Green, in front of the fort. 
Around this kingly effigy the excited mul- 
titude, surging hither and thither, unit- 
edly gathered, and pulling it down to the 
ground, broke it into fragments, which 
fragments were afterwards conveniently 
molded into bullets and made to do service 
against his majesty's troops. Some of the 
soldiers and officers of the American army 
having joined in this proceeding, Wash- 
ington censured it, as having much the 
appearance of a riot and a want of disci- 
pline, and the army was ordered to abstain, 
in the future, from all irregularities of the 
kind. 

In Boston, that citadel of radical insub- 
ordination to "his majesty," the public 
joy knew no bounds, and even the British 
prisoners were courteously summoned to 
witness the spirit with which a brave peo- 
ple, determined to be free, dared to defj' 
the British throne. On the seventeenth 
of July the British officers on parole re- 
ceived each a card from the governor, re- 
questing the honor of said officer's attend- 
ance at a specified hour on the morrow, in 
the town hall. As rumors were pretty 
well afloat, however, touching the decided 
step that had been taken at Philadelphia, 
the officers were not without a suspicion as 
to the purport of the meeting, and hesi- 



tated for a while as to the consistency of 
giving the sanction of their presence to a 
proceeding which they could not but re- 
gard as traitorous. Curiositj*, however, 
got the better of these scruples, and it was 
resolved, after a brief consultation, that, 
the invitation ought to be accepted. 

On entering the hall, the king's officers 
found it occupied by 'rebellious ' function- 
aries, military, civil, .ind ecclesiastical, and 
among whom the same good humor and 
excitement prevailed as among the throng 
out of doors. The British officials were 
received with great frankness and cordi- 
ality, and were allotted such stations as 
enabled them to witness the whole cere- 
mony. Exactly as the clock struck one, 
Colonel Crafts, who occupied the chair, 
rose, and, silence being obtained, read 
aloud the declaration, which announced to 
the world that the tie of allegiance which 
had so long held Britain and her North 
American colonies together, was forever 
.separated. This being finished, the gen- 
tlemen stood up, and each, repeating the 
words as they were spoken by an officer, 
swore to uphold, at the sacrifice of life, 
the rights of his country. Meanwhile, the 
town cleric read from a balcony the solemn 
declaration to the collected multitude ; at 
the close of which, a shout began in the 
hall and passed like an electric spark to 
the streets, which now rang with loud huz- 
zas, the slow and measured boom of can- 
non, and the rattle of musketry. The 
batteries on P'ort Hill, Dorchester Neck, 
the castle, Nantasket, and Long Island, 
each s.iluted with thirteen guns, the artil- 
lery in the town fired thirteen rounds, and 
the infantry scattered into thirteen divis- 
ions, poured forth thirteen volleys, — all 
corresponding to the number of states 
which formed the Union. There was also 
a municipal banquet, at which speeches 
were made and toasts drank; and in the 
evening a brilliant illuminatibn of the 
houses. 

In Virginia, the proclamation of inde- 
pendence was greeted with that same 
ardor of enthusiasm which for so many 
years had characterized the people of that 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



69 



ancient commonwealtli, in the course of 
political freedom. In South Carolina, too, 
the declaration was read to the assembled 
multitudes, amid the greatest rejoicings, — 
public addresses, military and civic proces- 
sions, bands of music, firing of cannon, 
and kindred demonstrations of popular 
favor. In all the colonies, indeed, the 
declaration was hailed as the passing away 
of the old world and the birth of the 
new. 

But the declaration, though it thus 
solemnly inaugurated a new nation and 
made the colonies, for the time, the theater 
of patriotic jubilee, involved startling per- 
ils and imposed momentous duties; for it 
was a defiant challenge to combat thrown 
by a mere province in the face of the most 
colossal power in all Christendom. This 
important paper commences with stating 
that, " When in the course of human 
events it becomes necessary for one people 
to dissolve the political bands which have 
connected them with another, and to as- 
sume among the powers of the earth, the 
separate and equal stations 'to which the 
laws of Nature, and of Nature's God, en- 
title them, a decent respect to the opinions 
of mankind requires that they sliould de- 
clare the causes which impel them to the 
separation." 

The causes are then stated, and a long 
enumeration of the oppressions complained 
of by America is closed by saying that 
" a prince, whose character is thus marked 
by every act which may define a tj'rant, is 
unfit to, be the ruler of a free jjeojsle." 
History may be searclied in vain for words 
so bold and scathing, used by a colony 
against a powerful sovereign. 

The fruitless appeals which had been 
made to the people of Great Britain are 
also recounted, but " they too,'' concludes 
this declaration, " have been deaf to the 
voice of justice and of consanguinity. We 
must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity 
which denounces our separation, and hold 
them, as we hold the rest of mankind, 
enemies in war, in peace friends." Then 
comes the portentous conclusion — 

" We, therefore, the representatives of 



the United States of America, in general 
congress assembled, aj^i^ealing to the Su- 
preme Judge for the rectitude of our inten- 
tions, do, in the name, and by the author- 
ity of the good people of these colonies, 
solemnly publish and declare, that these 
United Colonies are, and of right ought to 

be, FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES ; that 

they are absolved from all allegiance to 
the British crown, and that all political 
connection between them and the State of 
Great Britain, is, and ought to be, totally 
dissolved ; and that, as free and independ- 
ent states, they have full power to levy 
war, conclude peace, contract alliances, 
establish commerce, and do all other acts 
and things, which independent states may 
of right do. And for the support of this 
declaration, with a firm reliance on the 
protection of Divine Providence, we mutu- 
ally pledge to each other, our lives, our 
fortunes, and our sacred honor." 

In the whole country, however, between 
New England and the Potomac, which 
was now to become the great theater of 
action, although a vast majority was in 
favor of independence, there existed an 
influential number, who not only refused 
to act with their countrymen, but were 
ready to give information and aid to the 
enemy. Most of these tories were wealthy 
and haughty, and rendered themselves ex- 
tremely unpopular. Laws passed by the 
new State authorities had subjected these 
persons to fines and imprisonments, and 
their property to confiscation. They en- 
dured many outrages, and were treated to 
"tarrings and featherings" innumerable, 
by the more violent among the angry pop- 
ulace. To prevent these outrages, con- 
gress gave the supervision of tories to 
committees of inspection. Many of these 
obnoxious families finally left the country, 
and in course of time the tor3' element was 
eradicated or completely silenced. 

Scarcely less interesting and important 
is the cliaracter of the reception which 
this remarkable document met on its ar- 
rival in England. Of the noble band of 
American patriots w^ho had been chosen to 
deliberate and act for the best good of the 



70 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



oppressed colonies, and who, prcceiling tlie 
final act of the declaration of independ- 
ence, had sent forth the most magnani- 
mous appeals to Britain's sense of justice, 
— of these men and their works, there had 
gone forth one of the grandest eulogies 
from the elder Pitt (Lord Chatham), the 
greatest of Britain's statesmen, who, in 
his pl.ace in parliament, dared to say — 

"I must declare and avow that in all 
my reading and study — and it has been 
my favorite study ; I have read Thucydi- 
des, and have studied and admired the 
master states of the world — thiit, for so- 
lidity of reasoning, for force of sagacitj-, 
and wisdom of conclusion, under such a 
complication of circumstances, no nation 
or bod}' of men can stand in preference to 
the general congress of Plnladelphia." 

But when, a few years after, it was pro- 
posed, by the British prime minister, to 
conciliate the exasperated colonies by treat- 
ing them as a people possessing certain 
indejjendent rights and powers, Pitt 
showed the exalted estimation in which 
he held the rebellious colonies as part of 
the British realm, by opposing such a 
course, in a speech of almost dramatic 
power and effect, and from which, owing 
to the exhaustion it produced in his own 
shattered system, the great peer and ora- 
tor almost immediately died. 

In France, the declaration of independ- 
ence by the American colonies was greeted 
with secret satisfaction by the court and 
rulers, and aroused to universal gladness 
the popular heart. Reviewing the scene 
and its actors, one of the most brilliant 
and popular orators of that intrepid nation 
was led to say: "With what grandeur, 
with what enthusiasm, should I not speak 
of those generous men who erected this 
grand edifice by their patience, their wis- 
dom, and their courage ! Hancock, Frank- 
lin, the two Adamses, were the greatest 
actors in this affecting scene; but they 
were not the only ones. Posterity shall 
know them all. Their honored names 
shall be transmitted to it by a happier 
pen than mine. Brass ami marble shall 
show them to remotest ages. In behold- 



ing them, shall the friend of freedom feel 
his heart palpitate with joy — feel his eyes 
float in delicious tears. Under the bust of 
one of them has been written, ' He wrested 
thunder from heaven and the scepter from 
tyrants.' Of the last words of this eulogy 
shall all of them partake." Still more preg- 
nant were the words of the great i\Iira- 
beau, as, citing the grand principles of the 
American Declaration, from his place in 
the National Assembly, " I ask," he said, 
"if the powers who have formed alliances 
with the States have dared to read that 
manifesto, or to interrogate their con- 
sciences after the perusal ? I ask whether 
there be at this day one government in 
Europe — the Helvetic and Batavian con- 
federations and the British isles excepted 
— which, judged after the principles of the 
Declaration of Congress on the fourth of 
Julj-, 177fi, is not divested of its rights!" 
For more than a 3'ear, commissioners 
from congress, at the head of whom was 
Dr. Franklin, resided at the court of 
France, urging upon that government to 
acknowledge the independence of the 
United States. But the success of the 
American struggle was regarded, as yet, 
too doubtful, for that country to embroil 
herself in a war with Great Britain. But 
that great event, the capture of the British 
army at Saratoga, seemed to increase the 
probability that the American arms would 
finally triumph, and decided France to 
espouse her cause. The aid which France 
now brought to the Americans was of 
great importance. It is even doubtful 
whether the colonies, without her contri- 
butions of monej', navy, and troops, would 
have been able to resist Britain with final 
success; at least, the struggle must have 
been greatlj' prolimged. To this inter- 
vention, however, France was inclined, l>y 
her own hostility to England, whom she 
delighted to see humbled, especially by a 
people struggling for independence. Fi- 
nally, after the surrender of Cornwallis to 
General Washington, the French court 
pressed upon congress the propriety of ap- 
pointing commissioners for negotiating 
peace with Great Britain. In accordance 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



71 



with this advice, John Adams, Benjamin 
Franklin, John Jay, and Henry Laurens, 
were appointed. The commissioners met 
Messrs. Fitzherbert and Oswald, on the 
part of Great Britain, at Paris, and provi- 
sional articles of peace between the two 
countries were there signed, November 
thirtieth, 1782 ; the definitive treaty being 
signed on the third of September, 1783. 
Holland acknowledged the independence 
of the United States in 1782 ; Sweden, in 
February, 1783; Denmark, in the same 
month ; Spain, in March ; Russia, in July. 
And thus, the Republic of the United 
States of America became an inde- 
pendent power among the nations of the 
earth. 

It was not unknown to the wise and 
venerable enactors of the Declaration, that 
their signatures to such an instrument 
would be regarded in England as an act 
of treason, rendering them liable to the 
halter or the block. In the full apprecia- 
tion of all this, every man of them placed 
his name upon the immortal parchment. 
The only signature which indicates a 



trembling hand, is that of Stephen Hop- 
kins, but this was owing to a nervous 
affection ; for, so resolute was he in con- 
gress, that, when some of the members 
suggested a hope of reconciliation, Mr. 
Hopkins replied, that "the time had come 
when the strongest arm and the longest 
sword must decide the contest, and those 
members who were not prepared for action 
had better go home." The boldest signa- 
ture is that of John Hancock, he whom 
the British had excepted in their offers of 
pardon, as one "whose offenses are of too 
flagitious a nature to admit of any other 
consideration but that of condign punish- 
ment." The number who signed the Dec- 
laration was fifty-six ; and the average 
length of their lives was about sixty-five 
years. Carpenters'Hall — or Independence 
Hall — in Philadelphia, where these tre- 
mendous scenes transpired, is still one of 
the places which every American looks 
upon with patriotic pride ; for within that 
temple was born a Nation, in whose des- 
tiny were wrapped the interests of Liberty 
and Civilization to the end of time. 



II. 

CAPITULATION OF GENERAL BURGOYNE.— 1777, 



First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Ameriouns. — Utter Failure of England's Grand Sclienie to 
" Subdue tlie Kebellious Colonies." — European Sympathy for the Struggliiijj Infant Nation. — AlllunL-e 
Between France and the United States. — Brilliant and EfTective Combination of Frencli and Ameri- 
can Forces — Gloomy Prospect fur America in 1777. — Britain's Honor Intrusted to Burgoyne. — His 
Magnilicent Army. — Rebels to be Sternly Dealt With. — Sanguine E.xpcctations of Success. — Savages 
Leagued with the Invaders. — Their Murder of Miss McCrea. — Burgoyne's Triumphant I'rogrcss. — 
Fall of Ticonderoga. — American Victories at Bennington, Etc — Gates's Army in Fine Spirits. — General 
Eraser Shot Dead — The " King's Regulars " Desperate — General Clinton Fails to Aid Them — All 
Hope Abandoned — Burgoyne Lays Down his Arms — His .Meeting with Gates. — Trophies of This 
Victory — How Washington Got the News. — Unbounded Joy of Americans.— Crushing Blow to British 
Pride. — Effect upon Other Nations. 



*' I have but to ffivc rtrrtch to the Inilinn fiirccs under my direction— und tliey am'tunt to thouajindjs — to overtake llic liardcncU euciniei 
of Great Britaiu.''--UuuuuT.'«E*s I'uul-lauatiu.n. 




'N the panels of that vast and superb 
rotunda which forms the center of tlie 
federal capitol at Washington, are four 
magnificent paintings b\' Jolin Trumbull, 
which illustrate the first four great events 
in the history of the United States, 
Uiunel}-, tlio Declaration of American In- 
(Ifl)endence, the Surrender of Burgo^-ne, 
tlif Surrender of Cornwallis, and the Res- 
ignation of Wasliington as commander- 
""^ _. _ _. ' '-■ in-chief of the army. Tlio design of this 

Gates's HEAu-guAitTEiis. volume being to portray the scenes and 

incidents relating to each of those Icmling occurronoos, of perpetual interest, in the rev- 
olutionary period, — as well as those that illustrate tlie remaining years which cunstitute 
the nation's first century, — the account which here follows will be descriptive of that 
triumphant achievement of revolutionary valor, the reduction of Burgoyne and his 
forces in 1777 ; it being the first royal army that ever capitulated to the Americans. 
It was also a fitting close to a year which had been marked by the arrival of Lafa3'ette, 
favor from the French government, the battles of Brandywine, Germantowii, and Ben- 
nington, the latter won by General Stark, and the occupation of riiiladcliiliia by Gen- 
eral Howe. 

The campaign of 1777 opened under gloomy auspices, and promised to the American 
cause little else than disasters. The army of ^Washington was totally inadequate in 
numbers, discii)line, and etiuipnient, to cope with the enemy, with any prosjjcct of suc- 
cess. Tlie genius of liberty was inclosed between two fires, and once more a fatal crisis 
seemed approaching ; for, not only was General Howe preparing to embark with twenty 



GREAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 



73 



thousand veteran troops for the Delaware, 
whence he was to move on Philadelphia, 
hut Burgoyne was approaching with about 
half that number, backed bj- liordes of sav- 
ages from the north. Burgoyne had long 
been one of the pet generals in the British 
army, and to him was specially intrusted 
the prestige of British arms and honor in 
the confiiet with America. He was the 
inheritor of great wealth, through his 
father-in-law, the Earl of Derby ; he served 
in Portugal with much credit, as brigadier- 
general, in 1762 ; for some time he was a 
conspicuous member of parliament ; and 
in 1775 he was appointed to a command in 
America, " to subdue the rebellious colo- 
nies." He witnessed the battle of Bunker 
Hill. In 1776 he returned to England, 
and had a long conference with George 
III. on colonial affairs. In 1777 he was 
appointed to lead the army which was to 
penetrate from Canada into the United 
States and crush to atoms the revolution- 
ary forces ; — with what success, the fol- 
lowing narrative will show : 

Having arrived in Quebec with his com- 
mission in May, 1777, this ambitious gen- 
eral, inspired by the distinguished confi- 
dence placed in his genius and ability by 
the English ministry, immediately dis- 
played great activity in making those 
preparations which were necessary to the 
success of an enterprise which was to de- 
cide the fate of America. The regular 
force placed at his disposal, consisting of 
British and German troops, amounted to 
upwards of seven thousand men, exclusive 
of a corps of artillery numbering about 
Sve hundred. To these was added a de- 
iachment of seven hundred rangers, under 
Colonel St. Leger, destined to make an 
iiicursion into the country of the Mohawks, 
artl to seize Fort Stanwix. According to 
the plan of operations decided upon by 
Buigoyne, his principal army was to be 
join;d bj^ two thousand Canadians, in- 
cludog hatchet-men, and other workmen 
whos^ services were necessary to render 
the roite practicable. ■ A sufficient number 
of seajien liad likewise been assembled, 
for matning the transports. Besides the 



Canadians that were to be immediately 
attached to the army, many others were 
called upon to scour the woods in the 
frontiers, and to occupy the intermediate 
parts between the army which advanced 
towards the Hudson and that which re- 
mained for the protection of Canada; the 
latter amounted, including the highland 
emigrants, to upwards of three thousand 
men. They were furnished by the san- 
guine ministry with an unusual variety 
and abundance of provisions, military 
stores, and other conveniences, amongst 
which was included a large quantity of 
uniforms, destined for the loyalists, who, 
it was not doubted, would after victory 
flock from all quarters to the roj-al camp. 
A great number of cruel and intractable 
savages were also gathered together to 
swell the force and prowess of this invad- 
ing host. Burgoyne had taken pains to 
be seconded by many brave and able offi- 
cers, among whom was Major-General 
Phillips, the brigadier-generals Eraser, 
Powel, Hamilton, and Specht, with the 
Brunswick major-general, Baron Riedesel. 
The whole army shared enthusiastically 
in the ardor and hopes of its chiefs, and 
not a doubt was entertained of an ap- 
proaching triumph, and the thorough con- 
quest and humiliation of America. The 
most base feature in Burgoyne's plan of the 
campaign was his emjjloyment of hordes 
of wild and inhuman savages, whose only 
weapons were the tomahawk and scalping- 
knife. But bitterly did he rue his course 
in this respect, for the deeds enacted by 
those hell-hounds of cruelty served, more 
than any thing else, to exasperate the 
American patriots, and to incite them to 
determined resistance and triumph. The 
murder of that lovely young woman, Miss 
McCrea, at Fort Edward, and the bloody 
massacre in the beautiful valley of Wyom- 
ing, were the legitimate fruits of such a 
policy as that of Burgoyne. 

The first movement of Burgoyne was to 
encamp near the little river Eoquet, on 
the western bank of Lake Champlain, a 
short distance north of Crown Point. 
Here he made addresses to the Indians to 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



stiinuliite tlieir anlor but repress their 
ferocious pri>i)ensities, and sent proclama- 
tions into the country to intimidate the 
people. He next made a short stop at 
Crown Point, and then proceeded to invest 
Ticonderoga. The right wing took the 
western bank of the lake, the left advanced 
upon the eastern, and the center was em- 
barked upon the lake itself. 




Unfortunately, the American army, des- 
tined to oppose the progress of the royal 
troops and to defend Ticonderoga, was 
altogether insufficient. General Schuyler, 
who commanded the American troops in 
this quarter, had been disappointed in 
procuring re-enforcenient.s, and his men 
numbered only about four thousand. Ti- 
conderoga itself was very strongly fortified 
on every side, and its defense was in- 
trusted to General St. Clair, with a garri- 
son of three thousand men, one-third of 
these being raw militia, and all of them 
poorly equipped. Although General St. 
Clair put forth every exertion to retard the 
operations of the advancing enemy, yet in 
a few days the^' succeeded in getting pos- 
session of Jlount Hope and Mount De- 
fiance, two very important positions, one 
of which commanded the American lines 
to a dangerous degree, and the other over- 
looked the entire fort. Ticonderoga be- 
ing thus easily hemmed in on every side, 
a council of otlicers concluded to evacuate 
the fort. They accordingly withdrew on 



the night of the fifth of July. All was 
done in good order and profound silence ; 
and the stores, artillery and provisions, 
were put on board two hundred bateaux 
and five armed galleys. They would prob- 
ably have escaped unperceived by the 
British, had not a house caught fire on 
Mount Indei)endence, which betrayed b)' 
its light all that had taken place. The 
Americans were immediately pursued, and 
by the next afternoon their boats were 
overtaken and attacked at Skenesborough 
Falls. Two of the American galleys sur- 
rendered, and three were blown up ; and. 
after setting fire to their works, mills, and 
bateaux, that portion of the armj- escaped 
up Wood Creek to Fort Anne. The van- 
guard of the corps that set out b\- land, 
under St. Clair, had arrived at Castlcton ; 
the rear had rested at Hubbardston, when 
it was overtaken and attacked b}' General 
Fraser, on the morning of the seventh. 
An obstinate battle ensued, which at 
length, after Ricdesel came up, resulted in 
the dispersion of the Americans, who left 
many of their soldiers, together with their 
brave commander. Colonel Francis, dead 




g^^T^^TZ^^ ^-^' 



77^ 



on the field. St. Clair, after hearing 'his 
news, struck into the woods in an eas ern 
direction, hoping thereby to mislead 3ur- 
goyne as to the course and position a the 
American forces. 

The English generals next resohed to 
drive the Americans from Fort Anne. 
After a sanguin.iry combat thej* finally 
succeeded in this, bj* bringing suddenly 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



75 



to their aid their savage allies. The 
Americans set the fort on fire, and re- 
tired to Fort Edward, where General 
Schu^'ler had posted himself. On the 
twelfth, St. Clair also arrived there with 
the remains of the garrison of Ticonder- 
oga. This, it was expected, would be the 
next point of attack. But Burgoj'ue was 
detained at Skenesborough, through want 
of provisions and stores. General Schuy- 
ler took advantage of this delay, and neg- 
lected no means to procure recruits and 
to impede the progress of the enemy. 

After succeeding in obtaining posses- 
sion of Fort George, the British army with 
much difficult}- attained the banks of the 
Hudson, near Fort Edward. Tiie Ameri- 
cans moved down to Stillwater. Bur- 
goj'ne soon experienced a great depriva- 
tion of provisions. While Colonel St. 
Leger was investing Fort Stanwix, on 
the Mohawk, he detached five hundred 
soldiers and savages to procure cattle at 
Bennington. To favor this expedition he 
moved his army down to the bank opposite 
Saratoga ; but a company of provincials 
having assembled from different quarters 
at Bennington, under the command of 
Colonel Stark, the latter met the enemy 
on the border of the town, and after an 
obstinate encounter bravely repulsed them. 
The British, however, were again strength- 
ened by a fresh detachment, and once more 
the Americans were attacked; but victory 
- declared for the latter, the English losing 
seven hundred men and all their baggage. 

But at this time. General Herkimer, 
who marched to the relief of Colonel Gan- 
sevoort at Fort Stanwix, was ambushed by 
the savages, who dispersed his corps with 
all that frightful carnage characteristic of 
Indian warfare. In a short time, how- 
ever, the Indians became disaffected, and 
the British were obliged to raise the siege 
and retreat. 

These successes of the Americans at 
Stanwix and Bennington, inspired them 
with new confidence. The harvests were 
now ended, and the country people took 
arms in multitudes, and hastened to the 
camp elated with the expectation of van- 



quishing the vaunted 'regulars of the 
king.' General Gates, an officer of no 
inconsiderable renown, was appointed to 
the command of the army, which also gave 
a new spur to their alacrity ; they were ex- 
cited, too, by the inhuman cruelties of the 
savages under St. Leger and Burgoyne, 
and the awful butchery of the young and 
beautiful Miss McCrea, murdered in cold 
blood at Fort Edward by the British-paid 
Indians, which was still fresh in their 
minds, exasperated them to the extreme. 
The savages now deserted Burgoyne, and 
the Canadians were frightened to their 
homes, by the sinister aspect of affairs. 
General Lincoln, with a strong and de- 
termined tody of New Hampshire and 
Connecticut militia, assisted by Colonels 
Brown and Johnston, proceeded with great 
secrecy and celerity to repossess Forts Ed- 
ward, Anne, and George, Mount Hope, 
and Mount Defiance. Complete success 
crowned this admirably conducted move- 
ment. 

General Burgoyne having amassed about 
thirty days' provisions, resolved to pass the 
Hudson, engage the American army, and 
penetrate to Albany. Towards the mid- 
dle of September, he crossed the river, and 
encamped on the heights and plains of 
Saratoga, Gates being then near Stillwa- 
ter. Burgoj'ne had now to rely, almost 
entirely, on his German and British regu- 
lar troops, and a battle was soon expected. 
This was reserved for the nineteenth of 
September, and the question was to be de- 
cided, whether the Americans could resist 
the English upon ecjual ground, in fair 
and regular battle. 

Some small woods only separating the 
two watchful and eager armies, they were 
early on the nineteenth formed in the 
order of battle. The right wing of the 
British army rested upon the high grounds, 
and the left wing and artillery, under Phil- 
lips and Riedesel, kept along the road and 
meadows by the river side. Gates took 
the right of the American army, and gave 
the left to Arnold. Smart skirmi.shes im- 
mediately ensued between the foremost 
marksmen of either party, and the two 



70 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



forces soon met. General Fraser repulsed 
the Auieiicaiis. Finding the right flank 
of the enemy's right wing so well defended, 
tiiey left a sufficient guard to defend this 
passage, made a rapid movement to their 
right, and vigorously assailed the left flank 
of the same wing. Arnold exhibited upon 
this occasion all the imiietuosity of his 
courage, and emboldened his men both by 
voice and example. The action became 
extremely warm; and the enemy fearing 
that Arnold, by cutting their line, would 
penetrate between their wings — as was 
manifestly his intention, — hastened to re- 
enforce the points attacked. General 
Fraser came up with tlie twenty-fourth 
regiment, some light infantry, and Brey- 
nian's riflemen; he would have drawn 
more troops from the right tlank, but the 
heights, on whicli it was posted, were of 
too great iin[iortaiice to be totally evacu- 
ated. Meanwhile, such was the valor and 
impetuosity of the Americans, that the 
English began to fall into confusion, and 
would have been utterly routed, but for the 
arrival of General Phillips with fresh men 
and a part of the artillery ; upon hearing 
the firing, he had rapidly made his way 
through a very diflicult wood to the scene 
of danger. He restored the action at the 
ver)" moment it was about to be decided in 
favor of the Americans ; but the latter, 
nothing daunted, renewed their attacks 
with such persevering energy, that night 
only parted the combatants. 

Benedict Arnold and Daniel Morgan 
were the ruling spirits that directed the 
battle on the part of the Americans, and 
the gallant General Fraser was the direct- 
ing soul of the British in action. His skill 
and courage were everywhere conspicu- 
ous. He was mounted upon a splendid 
iron-gray gelding; and, dressed in the full 
uniform of a field officer, he was a promi- 
nent object in the e^'es of the Americans. 
It was evident that the fate of the battle 
rested upon him, and this the keen e3'e 
and sure judgment of Morgan perceived. 
In an instant his purpose was conceived, 
and, calling a file of his best men around 
him, he said, as ho pointed toward the 



British right, "That gallant officer is Gen- 
eral Fraser. I admire and honor him, but 
it is necessary he should die ; victory for 
the enemy depends upon him. Take your 
stations in that clump of bushes, and do 
your duty." Within five minutes Fraser 
fell, mortally wounded, and was carried to 
the camp by two grenadiers. Just previ- 
ous to being hit by the fatal bullet, the 
crupper of his horse was cut b^' a rifle ball, 
and immediately' afterward another passed 
through the horse's mane, a little back of 
his ears. The aid of Fraser noticed this, 
and said, " It is evident that you are 
marked out for particular aim ; would it 
not be prudent for you to retire from this 
place?" Fraser replied, "My duty for- 
bids me to fly from danger," and the next 
moment he fell. This act is said to have 
been originally suggested by Arnold. 

After this battle, Burgoyne waited 
nearly a month to hear from CJeneral 
Clinton. At length he received intelli- 
gence, but it was of such a nature as only 
to increase his disappointments and ren- 
der his situation more hopeless. Driven 
to extremit}', he resolved to make another 
effort to force a passage to Albany by his 
enemy's left. In this he utterly failed, 
and his troops were driven back to their 
intrenchments, being pursued wiih eager- 
ness and great loss, even to their camp. 
The Americans had now acijuired an 
opening on the right and rear of tlie 
British army, whose situation was there- 
fore rendered very perilous. Burgoyne 
now operated a change of ground. But 
General Gates had taken the precaution 
to station strong divisions on almost every 
side, to prevent the enemy's escape. Bur- 
goyne then retired to Saratoga; but so 
miserable was the condition of his army, 
that it occupied nearly two days to effect 
this small movement of six miles, and even 
left his hospital in the hands of the Ameri- 
cans. Hoping to cross the river at Sara- 
toga, and retreat to the lakes to save his 
army, he soon found tiiat Fort Edward, on 
the opposite bank, was too strongly man- 
ned to admit of his attempting any such 
purpose ; thereupon he turned his atten- 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



77 



tion to Fort George, in hopes of crossing 
there. He Tvas not long in ascertaining, 
however, that there, too, the Americans 
were strongly intrenched. 

General Gates, with the main body of 
the American army, thirsting for battle, 
was hard upon Burgoj-ne's rear. In tliis 
state of affairs it was, that the proud- 
spirited Briton finally relinquished all 
expectation of saving himself by his own 



nature of the ground, could not be at- 
tacked ; — such was the extremity that pre- 
sented itself. But Burgoyne's troops, even 
while the rifle and grape shot fell thickly 
around them in this forlorn state, retained 
their ordinary constancy, and, while sink- 
ing under war's hard necessity, betrayed 
no want of temper, or of fortitude. 

Clinton's effort to relieve Burgoyne was 
unsuccessful. He pushed up the Hudson 




CAPITULATION OF BURGOYSE'S ARMY. 



efforts. His only refuge from despair was 
the faint possibility of co-operation from 
the parts down the river ; and he looked 
for the aid of Clinton with the most in- 
tense desire. His army was in a pitiable 
condition. Worn out, abandoned, half 
their number slaughtered, and amongst 
them the most distinguished officers; and 
invested closely by a much greater force, 
who refused to fight from a knowledge of 
their helpless condition, and who, from the 



' river, captured Forts Montgomery and 
Clinton, after a brave resistance by the 
American garrison, and then, with wan- 
ton cruelty. Sir Henry set fire to houses 
and buildings of every description, de- 
stroying, by conflagration, the church and 
every other building in the beautiful town 
of Esopus. After the capture of these two 
forts, Clinton dispatched a messenger by 
the name of Daniel Taylor, to Burgoyne, 
with the cheering intelligence. Fortn- 



rs 



OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



natfl}-, he was taken on the way as a spj'. 
Finding himself in danger, he was seen to 
turn aside and take something from his 
pocket and swallow it. The American 
commander forthwith ordered a severe 
dose of emetic tartar to be administered ; 
this produced the effect — the prisoner dis- 
charging a small silver bullet, which, on 
being unscrewed, was found to inclose a 
dispatch to Burgoyne. " Out of thine 
own mouth thou shalt be condemned.'" 
The spy was tried, convicted, and executed. 
Perceiving, now, that all the passes in 
his rear were strongl}' guarded, and that 
further retreat or resistance was useless, 
Burgoj'ne called a council on the fifteenth 
of October. While the council was qui- 
etly deliberating, an eighteen-pound shot 
crossed the table, and they resolved unani- 
mously to offer terms to General Gates. 
These proposals finally resulted in the ca- 
pitulation of 15ui-goyiie"s whole army. The 
news of the capture in the Highlands is 
said to have arrived at this juncture, which 
led General Burgoyne to temporize, in ex- 
pectation of possible relief from Sir Henry 
Clinton. Gates, seeing the critical mo- 
ment, drew up his army for immediate on- 
set, and sent in a flag, demanding a reply 
in ten minutes. The exigency was immi- 
nent, and Burgoyne felt it. With a trem- 
bling hand and pallid countenance the 
proud warrior signed the treaty. The 
surrender was duly carried into effect on 
the seventeenth of October. Burgoyne 
having proposed to Wilkinson, the Ameri- 
can adjutant-general, a desire to be intro- 
duced to General Gates, they crossed the 
Fishkill, and j)roceeded to head-ijuarters 
on horseback, General Burgoyne in front, 
with his adjutant-general and two aids- 
de-canip behind him ; tlien followed ftfajor- 
General Phillips, the Baron Riedesel, and 
the other general officers and their suites, 
according to rank. General Gates, ad- 
vised of Burgoyne's approach, met him at 
the head of the American camp, Bur- 
goyne in a rich royal uniform, and Gates 
in a plain blue frock. When they ap- 
proached nearly within sword's length, 
they reined up and halted. Adjutant- 



General Wilkinson then formally an- 
nounced the names of the gentlemen, 
whereupon General Burgoyne, raising his 
hat most gracefully, said : 

" The fortune of tear, General Gates, 
has made me your prisoner." 

" I shall always he ri'iuhj to hear testi- 
mony,' promptly replied the conqueror, 
with a courtly salute, "that it has not 
been tlirough any fault of your excellenry." 

^lajor-General Phillips then advanced, 
and he and General Gates saluted and 
shook hands, with the familiarity of old 
acquaintances. The Baron Riedesel and 
other officers were introduced in their 
turn. General Gates, with great delicacy, 
consented to an arrangement by which the 
American soldiery were not to be present 
when the British army underwent the 
shame and humiliation of l)iling their 
arms. 

The trophies which were gained by this 
great victor}', were five thousand seven 
hundred and ninet\'-one prisoners, a train 
of brass artillery immensely valuable, con- 
sisting of forty-two pieces of brass can- 
non, besides seven thousand muskets, with 
seventy-two thousand cartridges, and an 
ample supply of shot, shells, and clothing 
for seven thousand men, with a large num- 
ber of tents and other military stores. 
The American army numbered about three 
times that of the enemy. 

The American army engaged in this 
victorious enterprise, contained many fine 
officers. Schuyler was a man of great 
good sense and experience, having been 
an officer in the war of 17o5 to 1763. 
General ]Morgan, a bold and intrepid sol- 
dier, was there, rendering most conspicu- 
ous service. Arnold's heroism never shone 
more brightly than in the various ordeals 
through which he passed during this cam- 
paign. Lincoln, too, showed himself to be 
valiant and discreet even in the most try- 
ing exigencies. Brooks's share in this 
event is applauded by every historian of 
the war, as is likewise the honorable career 
of Dearborn and Hull. The other Ameri- 
can generals, who may be named in this 
campaign, are Poor, Learned, Ten Broeck, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



79 



Fellows, Patterson, Nixon, and Glover. 
Of General Gates, the central figure in 
this great act, it may he remarked, that, 
though unquestionably a man of talents, 
he was so far deficient in judgment as to 
be influenced by the arts and representa- 
tions of those who, under the lead of Gen- 
eral Conway, — whose offensive conduct in 
this matter finally led to a duel between 
him and General Cadwalader — were en- 
gaged in a scheme to wrest the supreme 
command of the revolutionary army from 
Washington and have it conferred upon 
Gates. At this very time, the intrigue of 
the Conway faction was at its height, and 
the officers who were implicated in it 
seized upon the occasion to strike a deci- 
sive blow. The disastrous loss of the battle 
just fought at Germantown they charged 
to Washington's delaying his division at 
the Chew House. So artful and persever- 
ing were they in these representations of 
Washington's incompetency, and so bril- 
liant had Gates's military repute become 
by the magnificent victory with which he 
had relieved the public despondency, that 
the idea began to prevail in the minds of 
many, that the days of Washington's as- 
cendency were numbered and finished. 
Gates, in his invidious rivalry of Wash- 
ington, would not deign to communicate 
the news of his victory to the latter, but 
sent a courier direct to congress instead. 
It was, curiously enough, at the precise 
period when Washington's star had be- 
come dimmed by military reverses, that 
the rumor was found circulating through 
his camp, of Burgoyne's having been con- 
quered and his whole army taken prison- 
ers by General Gates. The excitement 
became intense, and all were on the watch 
for news from the north. Several days, 
however, passed away, and no further in- 
telligence was received. Washington, of 
course, had heard the rumor, and doubtless 
appreciated the effect it would have, if" 
true, upon public opinion, as between the 
merits of himself and Gates. 

Now, it so happened that Washington's 
head-quarters were on the road leading 
from Germantown to York, where congress 



was then in session. On the forenoon of 
Saturday, October eighteenth, Colonel 
Pickering, adjutant-general of the army, 
was there transacting business with Wash- 
ington. They were in a room of the sec- 
ond story, at the corner of the house, 
looking up the road that led from the 
north. While sitting there, a horseman 
was seen approaching, whose appearance 
indicated that he had traveled long and 
from far. His aspect, his saddle-bags, 
and the manner of his movement, indi- 
cated that he was an express-rider. The 
attention of both Washington and Picker- 
ing was at once arrested. They took it 
for granted that he must be bearing dis- 
patches from the northern army to con- 
gress, and were sure that he could inform 
them whether the report of Burgoyne's 
surrender was well founded. As he ap- 
proached nearer, Pickering recognized him 
as an officer of the northern army. At 
Washington's request, he ran down to the 
door, stopped him, and conducted him up 
to the general's room with his saddle-bags. 
Washington instantly opened them, tore 
the envelope of a package, spread out an 
announcement of the victory at Saratoga 
and Burgoyne's surrender to General 
Gates, and attempted to read it aloud. 
As he read, the color gradually settled 
away from his countenance, his hand 
trembled, his lips quivered, his utterance 
failed him — he dropped the paper, clasped 
his hands, raised them upward, and, thus 
transfixed, was for several moments lost in 
a rapture of adoring gratitude. " While 
I gazed," said Colonel Pickering, "upon 
this sublime exhibition of sensibility, I 
saw conclusive proof that, in comparison 
with the good of his country, self was ab- 
solutely nothing — the man disappeared 
from my view, and the very image and 
personification of the patriot stood before 
me." 

Throughout America, the joy which this 
victory produced, was unbounded. Indeed, 
the contest between England and the 
United States was believed to be substan- 
tially decided. Though the war might be 
kept up longer, no further doubt was en- 



80 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



tertaineJ of tlie success with wliicli the 
revolutionists' efforts would bo ultimatelj' 
crowned. Nor was it amongst the small- 
est advantages expected from it, that it 
would probably decide the uncertain and 
balancing politics of foreign courts, anx- 
ious to separate America from Britain, but 
ai)prehensive of the hazards to be encount- 
ered by taking open part in the war. The 
thanks of congress were voted to General 
Gates and his army ; and a medal of gold, 
in commemoration of this great event, was 
ordered to be struck, to be presented to 
him by the president of congress, in the 
name of the United States. 

The effect produced by this event on the 
other side of the Atlantic, and in particu- 
lar on the British cabinet and nation, was 
prodigious. It seemed to remove all the 
delusive hopes of easy conquest with which 
the English had so long flattered them- 
selves, and suddenly to display in open 
view the mass of resistance which had got 
to be encountered. The previous disasters 
of the American arms had induced a be- 
lief in Europe, even among the friends of 
the colonists, that the cause of independ- 
ence could not succeed. The rapid ad- 
vance of Burgoync into the interior, the 
fall of the important fortress of Ticonder- 
oga, and the boastful announcements of 
victory continuall}' made by tlie British 
and circulated all over Europe, had pro- 
duced a general impression that the colo- 
nists were virtually subdued In the 
midst of all this, came the unexpected 
and astounding intelligence that Bur- 
goyne and all his forces had laid down 
their arms in submission to an American 
■general. 

On the evening of the day on which the 
ministry received their private dispatches 
containing the news, a rumor of their con- 
tents had got into the house of commons, 
just as t!ie members had assembled One 
of the members arose, and witli the most 
imperative earnestness of manner ad- 
dressed the treasury benches, demanding 
what were the acnnnts from America 
Bi'ing compelled to disclose the mortifying 
fact, the chancellor of the exchequer arose, 



and, in a weak and faint voire, informed 
the house it was too true that General Bur- 
goyne and his army were prisoners of war. 

At this announcement, a storm of indig- 
nation, sarcasm, reproach and invective, 
was poured upon the king's ministers by 
the opposition leaders, who overwhelmed 
them with the bitterest declamation on 
their imbecility*, rashness, and obstinacy. 
In the house of lords, the Earl of Cliatham 
— the foremost man of the realm — moved 
to amend the address in answer to the 
speech from the throne, by introducing a 
clause recommending to his majesty an 
iuimediatc cessation of hostilities, and the 
commencement of a treaty of conciliation, 
lie vehemently condemned the employ- 
ment of merciless savages to wage a "bar- 
barous war against our brethren," and 
was desirous of peace on any terms short 
of the dismemberment of the empire. 
Such, however, was the infatuation of the 
court and ministry, that their hostile plans 
were still persevered in, the government de- 
claring that '• if ten thousand men cannot 
conquer America, ^/("y thousand shall. '" 
And with the help of strong majorities in 
parliament, more supplies were raised, new 
troops levied, and the war carried on. 

Tiie most important among the imme- 
diate consequences of Burgoyne's surren- 
der, was the treaty of alliance between 
America and France. The communica- 
tion of this important intelligence from 
the American commissioners in France, 
diffused extreme joy tlirougliout the Unit- 
ed States, being received by the people as 
the harbinger of their independence ; and 
in this they were not disappointed, for men. 
arms, and money were liberally supplied 
by their generous ally, until an acknowl- 
edgment of tliat independence was wrung 
from King George. Such, then, was the 
part played by that army which had ex- 
cited such high expectations in Britain, 
and whicli, at first, spread alarm and dis- 
may throughout the United States. Poor 
Burgoyne. returning home on parole, was 
ill received. The king, petulant and mor- 
tified, refused to see him ; but he never 
had a more faithful servitor. 



III. 



FIEST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY.— 1779. 



John Paul Jones, Commanding the Bon Homme Richard, Fights and Captures King George's Power- 
ful Ship-of War, the Serapis, in British Waters.— Crowds of Spectators Line the English Coast -The 
Most Sanguinary Battle Ever Fought Between Single Ships—Jones is Uailed as "The Washington 
of the Seas."— World-wide Interest of this Combat.— Commodore Jones's Early Career.— Offers his 
Services to Congress— Appointed a Naval Lieutenant— Joins the Continental Fleet.— The First to 
Hoist its Ensign.— Style and Motto of the Flag— Sails from France on a Cruise.— Terror Created by 
his Movements.— Characteristic Anecdotes.— Two British Frigates in Sight.— Jones Ready for Bloody 
Work.— The Ships Muzzle to Muzzle.— Superiority of the Serapis.— A Most Deadly Contest.— Both 
Vessels on Fire.— Jones Attacked by Another Foe.— One of his Vessels Treacherous.— Remarkable 
Scenes.— Britain's Flag Struck to America.— An Act Without Precedent.— Sinking of the Victor!- 
ous Vessel. 



" The most obatinate and bloody battle in the nnnals of naval warfare."-J. Fkkimobe Coopek. 




HOISTING FIRST NAVAL FLAG. 

6 



UGH an exploit as that performed by John Paul Jones, in 1779 
by which, in plain sight of the English coast, he flung to the breeze' 
the gallant ensign of the United States, and, with Britons as wit- 
nesses of his daring, fought, victoriously, a battle which has always 
been spoken of as the most obstinate and sanguinary combat that 
ever occurred between single ships, can never be read of by Ameri- 
cans with other than the deepest and most enthusiastic interest. The 
victory came, too, at one of the darkest hours in the revolutionary cam- 
paign, and served to gladden and encourage, for the time being, the de- 
spondent hearts of honest patriots. The vaunted invincibleness of the 
British navy became a by-word of contumely, the world over, from the 
time Jones nailed his flag to the mast, and, under the calm 
sky and round harvest moon of September, dealt forth a storm 
of death and desolation upon the enemies of his adopted coun- 
try. The action may well be pronounced one of the most 
terrible on record, from its unusual duration for a naval bat- 
tle, from the ferocity which the combatants displayed, and 
from the proximity of the two vessels, the muzzles of tlie 
ships' batteries almost reaching into each other's port-holes. 
John Paul was born in Scotland, on the sixth day of 
July, 1747, and the scenery and associations of his birth- 
place — Arbigland — and its vicinity, doubtless encouraged 
that restless spirit of adventure and love of change, as 
well as that ardent entlnisiasm in the objects of his i^iur- 
suit, which so strikingly characterized his career through life. 
At the age of twelve, he was apprenticed to a merchant 
of Whitehaven, who carried on a considerable trade with 



82 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the American colonies. His first voyage 
was made before he was thirteen years old, 
being to Virginia, where his elder brother 
was established as a planter. He was after- 
ward engaged for a short time in the slave 
trade, wliich he left in disgust, and made a 
number of voyages to the West Indies. 

In 1773, John Paul removed to Virginia, 
to attend to the affairs of his brother, who 
had died childless and intestate. He now, 
for some unknown reason, assumed the ad- 
ditional surname of Jones, and which he 
retained through life. At the commence- 
ment of the revolutionary conflict, his feel- 
ings became warmly enlisted in the cause 
of the colonies, and this spirit fully pre- 
pared him for the active part he soon un- 
dertook in their behalf. An offer of his 
services, which he made to the colonies, 
was accepted, and, on the twenty-second 
of December, 1775, by a resolution of con- 
gress, he was appointed lieutenant in the 
American navy. 

It was Lieutenant Jones who hoisted, 
with his own hands, the first American 
naval flag on board the American frigate 
Alfred, the flag-ship, the national ensign 
being thns for the first time displayed from, 
a ■man-of-war. The circumstances attend- 
ing this interesting occasion are stated to 
have been as follows : The Alfred was an- 
chored off the foot of Walnut street, Phila- 
delphia. On a brilliant morning, early in 
February, 1776, gay streamers were seen 
fluttering from every mast-head and spar 
on the river Delaware. At nine o'clock, a 
full-manned barge thridded its way among 
the floating ice to the Alfred, bearing the 
commodore. He was greeted by the thun- 
ders of artillery and the shouts of a multi- 
tude. When ho reached the deck of the 
flag-ship, Captain Salstonstall gave a sig- 
nal, and Lieutenant Jones gallantly pulled 
the ropes which wafted the new flag mast- 
head high. It was of yellow silk, bearing 
the figure of a pine tree, and the signifi- 
cant device of a rattlesnake in a field of 
thirteen stripes, with the ominous legend, 
" DonH tread on me!" This memorable 
act, it was Jones's high honor and privilege 
to perform when in his twenty-ninth year; 



an honor, too, of which, as events afterward 
proved, he was fully worthy. 

On the fourteenth of August, 1779, Jones 
sailed from the roadstead of Groix, France, 
in command of a small squadron, consisting 
of the Bon Homme Riclianl, fort\'-two guns, 
the Alliance, thirty-six guns, the Pallas, 
thirty-two guns, the Cerf, twenty-eight 
guns, and the Vengeance, twelve guns. 
Two privateers afterwards joined them, but 
did not continue with them till the end of 
the cruise. The efiiciency of the expedi- 
tion was marred by a want of subordination 
on the part of some of the ofiicers, who do 
not appear to have been willing to yield 
prompt obedience to orders. Captain Lan- 
dais, of the Alliance, habitually disregarded 
the signals and orders, throughout the 
cruise, and, towards the close, committed 
acts of open hostility to his superior. But, 
notwithstanding the difficulties against 
which he had to contend, Jones inflicted 
great damage on the enemy ; he coasted 
Ireland, England, and Scotland, making 
many prizes, and carrying terror wherever 
he appeared. 

But the action which gave the most dis- 
tinguishing renown to .lones's brilliant ca- 
reer, and which so early gave prestige to 
American prowess on the ocean, is that of 
which a detailed account is given below: 

It was about noon, on the twenty-third 
of September, 1779, a fleet of over forty 
sail appeared off Flamborough Head, on 
the coast of Yorkshire, and Jones at once 
gave up the pursuit of a vessel in whose 
track he was just then following, with all 
possible speed, and made signals for a gen- 
eral chase. The Sails in sight were a fleet 
of English merchantmen, under convoy of 
the ships-of-war Sorapis and Scarborough, 
and as soon as they saw themselves pur- 
sued they ran in shore, while their convoys 
that protected them bore off from the land 
and prepared for an engagement. The 
Bon Homme Richard set every stitch of 
canvas, but did not come into fighting po- 
sition toward the enemy until about seven 
o'clock in the evening, at which time, from 
the darkness having set in somewhat, ob- 
jects on the water were dimly discerned, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



83 



though not witli such difficulty as would 
have heen the case had not the moon 
shone forth with great brightness, and the 
weather proved serene and beautiful. 
When within pistol-shot, the hail from the 
Serapis, " What ship is that ? " was 
answered, "I can't hear you." Captain 
Pearson says the answer was, " The Prin- 
cess Roj'al." A second hail was answered 
by a thundering broadside from the bat- 
teries of the Richard, — a signal that in- 
dicated a hot and bloody encounter at 
hand, as the sequel soon proved. 

The American ship, it maj' here be re- 
marked, was much inferior to her antag- 
onist, being, in fact, an old vessel, clumsy, 
and unmanageable. She carried six 
eighteen-pounders on the lower gun deck, 
fourteen twelve-pounders and fourteen 
nine-pounders on the middle gun deck, 
two six-pounders on the quarter-gun 
deck, two six-pounders on the spar deck, 
one six-pounder in each gangway, and two 
six-pounders on the forecastle. She was 
manned by three hundred and eighty 
men and boys. The Serapis, on the other 
hand, was a new ship, built in the best 
manner, and with a much heavier arma- 
ment. She mounted twenty eighteen- 
pounders on her lower gun deck, twenty 
nine-pounders on her upper gun deck, six 
six-pounders on her quarter deck, four 
six-pounders on the forecastle ; and she 
had a crew of some three hundred and 
twenty men. 

Captain Cottineau, of the Pallas, en- 
gaged the Scarborough, and took her, after 
an hour's action, while the Bon Homme 
Richard engaged the Serapis. 

In the earlier part of the action, the 
superior sailing qualities of the Serapis 
enabled lier to take several advantageous 
positions, which the seamanship of Paul 
Jones, hampered by the unmanageable 
character of his craft, did not enable him 
to prevent. Thus he attempted to lay his 
ship athwart the enemy's bows, but the 
bowsprit of the Serapis sweeping over the 
Richard's poop, was grappled and lashed, 
and her stern swung round to the bow of the 
Bon Homme Richard by the action of the 



wind ; the vessels lay yard-arm and yard- 
arm, the muzzles on either side actually 
touching the enemj'. But long before this, 
many of the eighteen-pound shot of the 
Serapis had entered the Richard's hull be- 
low the water-mark, and she leaked in a 
threatening manner. Just before they 
closed. Commodore Pearson hailed his ad- 
versary : "Has your ship struck?" "I 
luiuen't heejun to fight yet!" thundered 
forth the brave Jones, in reply. 

A novelty in naval combats was now 
presented to many witnesses, but few ad- 
mirers, — says Lieutenant Dale, who par- 
ticipated in the conflict, — the rammers 
being run into the respective ships to en- 
able the men to load after the lower ports 
of the Serapis had been blown away, to 





make room for running out their guns, 
and in this situation the ships remained 
until between ten and twelve o'clock, 
P. M. From the commencement to the 
termination of the action, there was not a 
man on board the Richard who was igno- 
rant of the superiority of the Serapis, both 
in weight of metal, and in the qualities of 
the crew. The crew of that ship were 
picked seamen, and the ship itself had 
been only a few months off the stocks ; 
whereas the crew of the Richard consisted 
of part Americans, English and French,, 
and a part of Maltese,Portuguese, and Ma- 
lays, these latter contributing \>y their 
want of naval skill and knowledge of the- 
English language, to depress rather than 
encourage any reasonable hope of success 
in a combat under such circumstances. 



84 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



85 



One of the most disheartening facts in 
the early part of the action, was the silenc- 
ing of the battery of twelve-pounders, on 
which Jones had placed his principal de- 
pendence. 

Brave and dauntless sailor as he was, 
Jones stuck to his little battery, and stimu- 
lated his men with word and example. 
While one of the nine-pounders vomited 
double-headed shot against the mainmast 
of the Serapis, the two others swept her 
decks with grape and canister. The fire 
was so hot from the nine-pound battery and 
the tops, that not a man could live on the 
deck of the English ship. But all this 
while, her lower battery of eighteen-pound- 
ers was making an awful ruin of the Rich- 
ard. The terror of the scene was also soon 
heightened beyond the power of language 
to depict, by both vessels taking fire, which 
required almost superhuman exertion to 
subdue, and, in the midst of all, Jones and 
his heroic men were horror stricken to see 
their consort, the Alliance, commanded by 
Captain Landais, come up and pour a full 
broadside into the Richard's stern ! The 
evidence is regarded as most conclusive, 
that Captain L.'s conduct on this occasion 
was not due to any mistake on his part in 
supposing the Richard to be the Serapis, 
but to his personal hostility to Jones. 
With jealousy and treason in his heart, his 
plan was to kill Jones, and, capturing the 
Serapis, claim the victory as his. But the 
black-hearted Frenchman failed in his plot. 
A quantity of cartridges on board the Ser- 
apis was set fire to by a grenade from 
Jones's ship, and blew up, killing or wound- 
ing all the officers and men abaft the main- 
mast. But long after this the fight went 
on with fury. 

At last, the mainmast of the Serapis be- 
gan to totter to its fall — her fire slackened, 
and, about half-past ten o'clock, the British 
flag was struck, and Commodore Pearson 
surrendered his sword to his really weaker 
foe. In going through the formalities of 
this scene, Pearson displayed much irrita- 
bility, and, addressing Jones as one who 
fought under no recognized flag, said : 

" It is painful to deliver up my sword to 



a man who has fought with a halter around 
his neck." 

" Sir," replied Jones, good humoredly, 
as he handed back the weapon, " you have 
fought like a hero, and I make no doubt 
but your sovereign will reward you in the 
most ample manner." 

True enough, the gallant Pearson soon 
received from King George the dignity of 
knighthood as an acknowledgment of his 
bravery in this unparalleled battle, — hear- 
ing of which honor, Jones is said to have 
dryly remarked : "Well, he deserved it; 
and should I have the good fortune to 
meet with him again, I will make a lord 
of him!" 

Another episode occurred in connection 
with a medical officer, — the surgeon of the 
Richard, — who ran up from the cock-pit, 
in great fright and trepidation, and hur- 
riedly accosting the captain, said : "Are you 
not going to strike the colors ? Is not the 
ship fast sinking ? " " What ! doctor," re- 
plied Jones, " would j'ou have me strike to 
a drop of water ? Here, help me get this 
gun over ! " The doctor, as though answer- 
ing a sudden professional call, was soon 
retracing his steps to the cock-pit. 

So terribly was the Richard cut to pieces 
(being an old ship), that it was found im- 
possible, after the fight, to get her into 
port, and, the wounded being removed, she 
soon after sank. 

Jones took his prizes to Holland, and it 
is no exaggeration to say that the whole 
world stood astonished at his bravery and 
success. 

A most interesting account of this cele- 
brated battle between the Serapis and 
Richard was given, soon after its occur- 
rence, by Commodore Jones himself, a 
portion of which, describing in his own 
dramatic style, the principal scenes during 
the engagement, is given below : 

On the morning of that day, September 
twenty-third, the brig from Holland not be- 
ing in sight, we chased abrigantine that ap- 
peared laying to, to windward. About 
noon, we saw and chased a large .ship that 
appeared coming round Flamborougli Head 
from the northward, and at the same time 



86 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



I manned and armed one of the pilot boats 
to send in pursuit of the brigantine, which 
now appeared to be tlie vessel that I had 
forced ashore. Soon after this, a fleet of 
forty-one sail appeared off Flamborough 
Head, bearing N. N. E. This induced me 
to abandon the single ship whicli had then 
anchored in Burlington Bay ; I also called 
back the pilot boat, and hoisted a signal 
for a general chase. When the fleet dis- 
covered us bearing down, all the merchant 
ships crowded sail toward the shore. The 
two ships-of-war that protected the fleet at 
the same time steered from the land, and 
made the disposition for battle. In ap- 
proaching the enemy, I crowded every pos- 
sible sail, and made the signal for the line 
of battle, to which the Alliance paid no at- 
tention. Earnest as I was for the action, 
I could not reach the commodore's ship 
until seven in the evening, being then 
within pistol-shot, when he hailed the Bon 
Homme Richard. We answered him by 
firing a whole broadside. 

The battle being thus begun, was con- 
tinued witli unremitting fury. Every 
method was jiracticed on both sides to gain 
an advantage and rake each other ; and I 
must confess that the enemy's ship, being 
much more manageable than the Bon 
Homme Richard, gained thereby several 
times an advantageous situation, in spite 
of my best endeavors to prevent it. As I 
had to deal with an enemy of greatly su- 
perior force, I was under the necessity of 
closing with him, to prevent the advantage 
which he had over me in point of ma- 
neuver. It was mj' intention to lay the 
Bon Homme Richard athwart the enemy's 
bow ; but as that operation required great 
dexterity in the management of both sails 
and helm, and some of our braces being 
shot awaj', it did not exactly succeec^to my 
wish. The enemy's bowsprit, however, 
came over the Bon Homme Richard's poop, 
by the mizzenmast, and I made both ships 
fast together in that situation, which by 
the action of the wind on the enemj''s sails, 
forced her stern close to the Bon Homme 
Richard's bow, so that the ships laj' square 
alongside of each other, the yards being 



all entangled, and the cannon of each ship 
touching the opponent's. 

I directed the fire of one of the three 
cannon against the mainmast, with dou- 
ble-headed shot, while the other two were 
exceedingly well served with grape and 
canister shot, to silence the enemy's mus- 
ketry and clear her decks, which was at 
last effected. The enemj' were, as I have 
since understood, on the instant of calling 
for quarter, when the cowardice or treach- 
ery of three of my under-officers induced 
them to call to the enemj'. The English 
commodore asked me if I demanded quar- 
ter, and I, having answered him in the 
most determined negative, they renewed 
the battle with double fury. They were 
unable to stand the deck ; but the fire of 
their cannon, especially the lower batter}', 
which was entirely formed of ten-pound- 
ers, was incessant ; both ships were set on 
fire in various places, and the scene was 
dreadful be3'ond the reach of language. 
To account for the timidity of my three 
nnder-ofticers, I moan the gunner, the car- 
penter, and the master-at-arms, I must 
observe, that the two first were slightly 
wounded, and, as the ship had received 
various shots under the water, and one of 
the pumps being shot away, the carpenter 
expressed his fears that she would sink, 
and the other two concluded that she was 
sinking, whicli occasioned the gunner to 
run aft on the poop, without my knowl- 
edge, to strike the colors. Fortunately for 
me, a cannon-ball had dona that before, by 
carrying away the ensign-staff; he was 
therefore reduced to the necessity of sink- 
ing, as he supposed, or of calling for quar- 
ter, and he preferred the latter. 

All this time the Bon Homme Richard 
had sustained the action alone, and the 
enemy, though much superior in force, 
would have been very glad to have got 
clear, as appears by their own acknowledg- 
ments, and by their having let go an an- 
chor the instant that I laid them on board, 
by which means they would have escaped, 
had I not made them fast to the Bon 
Homme Richard. 

At last, at half-past nine o'clock, the Al- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



87 



liance appeared, and I now thought the 
battle at an end ; but, to my utter aston- 
ishment, he discharged a broadside full 
into the stern of the Bon Homme Richard. 
We called to him for God's sake to forbear 
firing into the Bon Homme Richard; yet 
they passed along the off side of the ship, 
and continued firing. There was no pos- 
sibility of his mistaking the enemy's ship 
for the Bon Homme Richard, there being 
the most essential difference in their ap- 
pearance and construction. Besides, it was 
then full moonlight. The Bon Homme 
Richard received various shots under wa- 
ter from the Alliance ; tlie leak gained on 
the pumps, and the fire increased much on 
board both ships. Some officers persuaded 



me to strike, of whose courage and good 
sense I entertain a high opinion. My 
treacherous master-at-arms let loose all my 
prisoners without my knowledge, and my 
prospects became gloomy indeed. I would 
not, however, give up the point. The ene- 
my's mainmast began to shake, their firing 
decreased fast, ours rather increased, and 
the British colors were struck at half an 
hour j)ast ten o'clock. 

This prize proved to be the British ship- 
of-war, the Serapis, a new ship of forty- 
four guns, built on the most approved con- 
struction, with two complete batteries, one 
of them of eighteen-pounders, and com- 
manded by the brave Commodore Richard 
Pearson. 



88 



OUR FIltST CENTUIiV.— 17:G-1«76. 




IV. 



THE WONDERFUL DARK DAT.— 1780. 



Tlie Northern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours.— The Day of Judgment 
Supposed to have Come.— Cessation of Labor.— Religious Devotions Resorted to.— The Herds 
Retire to their Stalls, the Fowls to their Roosts, and the Birds Sing their Evening Songs at Noonday.— 
Science at Loss to Account for the Mysterious Phenomenon.— One of Nature's Marvels.— Redness of 
the Sun and Moon.— Approach of a Thick Vapor.— Loud Peals of Thunder.— Sudden and Strange 
Darkness.— Alarm of the Inhabitants.— End of the World Looked For.— Dismay of the Brute Crea- 
tion.— An Intensely Deep Gloom.— Difficulty in Attending to Business.— Lights Burning in the 
Houses.— Vast Extent of the Occurrence.— Condition of the Barometer.— Change in the Color of 
Objects.— Quick Motion of the Clouds.— Birds Suffijcate and Die.— The Sun's Disc Seen in Some 
Places.— Oily Deposit on the Waters.— Impenetrable Darkness at Night.— Incidents and Anecdotes.— 
Ignorant Whims and Conjectures. — An Unsolved Mystery. 



whiM!'^},?l!ll^„kS^.''',^"l'^''^"' •*'V'."'=S '^'" ""^ "' """' wonderful phenomena of nnture which will always be read of with inlereJt, but 
wnicn pniioaophy 18 at a lOBfl to explain. — IIERSCUEL. 




niFFICl LTY OF TK-WKLING. 



LMOST, if not altogether alone, as tlie most 
mysterious and as yet unexplained phenome- 
non of its kind, in nature's diversified range of 
events, during the last century, stands the 
Dark Day of May Nineteenth, 1780, — a most 
unaccountahle darkening of the whole visible 
heavens' and atmosphere in New England, — 
which brought intense alarm and 'distress to 
multitudes of minds, as well as dismay to the 
brute creation, the fowls fleeing, bewildered, to 
their roosts, and the birds to their nests, and 
tlie cattle returning to their stalls. Indeed, 
thousands of the good people of that day be- 
came fully convinced that the end of all things 
terrestrial had come ; many gave up, for the 
time, their secular pursuits, and betook them- 
selves to religious devotions ; while many others regarded 
the darkness as not only a token of God's indignation 
against the various iniquities and .abominations of the age, 
nit also as an omen of some future destruction that might 
overwhelm the land — as in the case of the countries men- 
tioned in biblical history, — unless speedy repentance and 



90 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187C. 



reformation took place. The ignorant in- 
dulged in vague and wild conjectures as 
to the cause of the phenomenon; and 
those profounder minds, even, that could 
"gauge the heavens and tell the stars," 
were about equally at loss for any rational 
explanation of the event. It is related 
that the Connecticut legislature was in 
session at this time, and that, so great was 
the darkness, the members became terri- 
fied, and thought that the day of judg- 
ment had come ; a motion was conse- 
quently made to adjourn. At this, Mr. 
Davenport arose and said : " Mr. Speaker, 
— It is either the day of judgment, or it 
is not. If it is not, there is no need of 
adjourning. If it is, I desire to be found 
doing my duty. I move that candles be 
brought, and that we proceed to business." 
The time of the commencement of this 
extraordinary darkness was between the 
hcjurs of ten and eleven in the forenoon of 
Friday, of the date already named ; and it 
continued until the middle of the follow- 
ing night, but with different appearances 
at different places. As to the manner of 
its approach, it seemed to appear first of 
all in the south-west. The wind came 
from that quarter, and the darkness ap- 
peared to come on with the clouds that 
came in that direction. The degree to 
which the darkness arose varied in differ- 
ent lycalities. In most parts, it became so 
dense, that people were unable to read 
common print distinctly, or accurately de- 
termine the time of day by their clocks or 
watches, or dine, or manage their domes- 
tic affairs conveniently, without the light 
of candles. In some places, the degree of 
darkness was just about equal to prevent- 
ing persons seeing to read ordinary print 
in the open air, for several hours together. 
The extent of this darkness was also very 
remarkable. It was observed at the most 
easterly regions of New England; west- 
ward, to the furthest parts of Connecticut, 
and at Albany; to the southward, it was 
observed all along the sea coasts ; and to 
the north, as far as the American settle- 
ments extended. It probably far exceeded 
these boundaries, but the exact limits were 



never positively known. With regard to 
its duration, it continued in the neighbor- 
hood of Boston for at least fourteen or fif- 
teen hours ; but it was doubtless longer or 
shorter in some other places. The appear- 
ance and effects were such as tended to 
make the prospect extremelj' dull, gloomy, 
and unnatural. Candles were lighted up 
in the houses; the birds, in the midst 
of their blithesome forenoon enjoyments, 
stopped suddenly, and, singing their even- 
ing song.s, disappeared, and became si- 
lent; the fowls retired to their roosts ; the 
cocks were crowing in their accustomed 
manner at the break of day; objects could 
not be distinguished at a comparatively 
slight distance ; and everything bore the 
aspect and gloom of night, — to say noth- 
ing of the effect upon the minds of the 
people, whicl), indeed, >vas quite inde- 
scribable. 

The above general facts concerning this 
strange phenomenon were ascertained, 
after much painstaking inquiry, soon 
after its occurrence, by Prof. Williams, of 
Harvard College, who also collected to- 
gether some of the more particular ob- 
servations made in different parts of the 
country, relative to the reniarkaMe event. 
From these data it appears that, with re- 
gard to the state of the atmosphere pre- 
ceding this uncommon darkness, it was 
noticed in many sections, for several days 
before, that the air seemed to be of a 
smoky and vaporous charact<'r. The sun 
and the moon exhibited an unusual red- 
ness in their color, and divested of their 
usual brightness and lucid asjjcct ; and 
this obscuration increased as they ap- 
proached nearer to the horizon. This 
was ascertained to have been the case in 
almost all parts of the New England 
states, for four or five days preceding the 
nineteenth of May. The winds had been 
variable, but chieflj' from the south-west 
and north-east. The thermometer indi- 
cated from fort\' to fiftv-five degrees. The 
barometer showed a somewhat higher range 
than usual. The weather had been fair 
and cool for the season. 

As to the state of the atmosphere when 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



91 



the darkness came on, it was observable 
that the weight or gravity of it was grad- 
ually decreasing, the greater part of the 
day. According to the observations made 
at Cambridge, Mass., the mercury in the 
barometer was found, at twelve o'clock, to 
stand at twenty-nine inches, seventy ; in 
half an hour after, the mercury had fallen 
the one-hundredth part of an inch ; at one 
o'clock, it was twenty-nine inches, sixty- 
seven ; at three o'clock, it was at twenty- 
nine inches, sixty-five ; at eight minutes 
past eight, it was at twenty-nine inches, 
si.xty-four. A similar course of barometri- 
cal observations made, at the same time, 
in another part of the state, showed as fol- 
lows : at six o'clock in the morning, the 
mercury in the barometer was found to he 
at twenty-nine inches, eighty-two ; as soon 
• as the darkness began to ajjpear uncom- 
mon, that is, at ten minutes past ten, the 
mercury was found at twentj'-nine inches, 
sixty-eight ; at quarter before eleven — the 
time of the greatest degree of darkness in 
that part of the country — the mercury was 
at twenty-nine inches, sixty-seven, the 
darkness continuing in the same degree 
for an hour and a half ; at fifteen minutes 
past twelve, the mercury had fallen to 
twenty-nine inches, sixty-five, and, in a 
few minutes after this, the darkness began 
to abate ; the mercurj' remained in this 
state during the whole evening, without 
any sensible alteration. At half-past 
eight, it seemed to have fallen a little, but 
so small was the alteration, that it was at- 
tended with some uncertainty, nor did it 
appear to stand any lower three hours 
later. 

From these observations, it is certain 
that, on the day when the darkness took 
place, the weight or gravity of the atmos- 
phere was gradually decreasing through 
the whole daj'. Both of the barometers 
in use were instruments of superior work- 
manship, and consequently to be depended 
on as to the accuracy of their indications. 

The color of objects that day, is another 
point of interest. It is mentioned, in the 
record of observations made with reference 
to this feature of the phenomenon, that 



the complexion of the clouds was com- 
pounded of a faint red, yellow and brown, 
— that, during the darkness, objects which 
commonly appear green, were of the deep- 
est green, verging to blue, — and that those 
■\\hich appear white, were highly tinged 
with yellow. This was the character of 
the observations, as given by almost every 
one who made any record of the day's ap- 
pearance. But Prof. Williams states that, 
to him, almost every object ajspeared tinged 
with yellow, rather than with any other 
color; and this, whether the thing was 
near, or remote from the ej^e. 

Another element of peculiarity, in this 
remarkable scene, was the nature and ap- 
jjearance of the vapors that were then in 
the atmosphere. Early in the morning, 
the weather was cloudy ; the sun was but 
just visible through the clouds, and ap- 
peared of a deep red, as it had for several 
days before. In most jjlaces thunder was 
heard a number of times in the morning. 
The clouds soon began to rise from the 
south-west, with a gentle breeze, and there 
were several small showers before eight 
o'clock ; in some places there were showers 
at other hours, throughout the day. The 
water that fell was found to have an un- 
usual character, being thick, dark, and 
sooty. One observer, in the eastern part 
of Massachusetts, states, in this connec- 
tion, that the strange apjiearance and 
smell of the rain-water which people had 
saved in tubs, was the subject of universal 
and wondering remark. On examining 
the water, there was found a light scum 
upon it, which, on being rubbed between 
the thumb and finger, seemed to resemble 
the black ashes of burnt leaves ; the water 
also gave the same strong, sooty smell, 
which characterized the air. A similar 
appearance, in this respect, manifested 
itself in other localities ; it was especially 
exhibited on the Merrimac river, large 
quantities of black scum being seen float- 
ing upon the surface of that stream, dur- 
ing the day. In the night, the wind 
veered round to the north-east, and drove 
this substance towards the south shore; 
when the tide fell, the matter lay for 



92 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



many miles along the shore, the width of 
the deposit being some four or live inches. 
An examination of a considerable quantity 
of this substance, in several jilaces, failed 
to show aiiytliing of a sulphurous nature, 
either in its taste, color, or smell. Prof. 
Williams states that, being apprehensive 
as to whether there was not some uncom- 
mon ingredient in the air that day, he put 
out several sheets of clean j)aper in the air 
and rain. When they liad been out four or 
five hours, he dried them by the fire. They 
were much sullied, and became dark in 
their color, and felt as if they had been 
rubbed with oil or grease ; but, upon burn- 
ing them, there could not be detected any 
sulphurous or nitrous particles. 

The motion and situation of the cur- 
rents or bodies of vapor in the atmosphere 
likewise cxliibitcd some striking peculiar- 
ities. In most places, it was very evident 
that the vapors were descending from the 
higher parts of the atmosphere towards 
the surface of tlie earth. A gentleman 
who made some special observations bear- 
ing upon this point, mentions a very curi- 
"ous circum.stance, as to their ascent and 
situation, namely-, that at about nine 
o'clock in the morning, after a shower, 
the vapors rose from the springs in the 
low lands, in great abundance. Notice 
was taken of one large column that as- 
cended, with great rapidity, to a consid- 
erable height above the highest hills, and 
soon spread into a large cloud, then moved 
off a little to the westward. A second 
cloud was formed in the same manner, 
from the same springs, but did not ascend 
so high as the first; and a third was 
formed from the same places, in less than 
a quarter of an hour after the second. 
About three-quarters of an hour after 
nine o'clock, these clouds exhibited a very 
striking appearance. The upper cloud 
wore a peculiar reddish hue; the second 
showed in some places or parts a green, in 
others a blue, and in others an indigo 
color; while the surface of the tliird cloud 
was almost white. 

Of a somewhat singular nature, also, is 
the fact, as related by another, that, while 



the darkness continued, the clouds were in 
quick motion, interrupted, skirted one over 
another, so as to form — at least to the eye 
of the beholder — a considerable number of 
strata, the lower stratum being of an uni- 
form height as far as visible; but this height 
was conceived to be very slight, from the 
small extent of the horizon that could be 
seen, and from this circumstance observed 
in the evening. A lighted torch, held by 
a person passing along the street, occa- 
sioned a reflection of a faint red or copper- 
tinged light — similar to a faint aurora 
borealis, — the apparent height at which 
the reflection was made, being some twenty 
to thirty feet. And it was generally re- 
marked, that the hills might be seen at a 
distance in some directions, while the in- 
termediate spaces were greatly obscured 
or darkened. 

It would thus appear, from the state- 
ments now cited, as if the vapors, in some 
places, were ascending ; in most, descend- 
ing; and, in all, very near to the surface 
of the earth. To this it may be added, 
that, during the darkness, objects seem- 
ingly cast a shade in every direction, and, 
in many instances, there were various 
appearances or corruscations in the atmos- 
phere, not unlike the aurora borealis,— 
though it is not stated that any uncom- 
mon exhibitions of the electric fire were 
■witnessed during the day. In some ac- 
counts, however, it is mentioned that a 
number of small birds were found suffo- 
cated by the vapor ; some were found dead, 
and some flew affrighted, or stupefied, into 
the houses. 

In New Haven, Conn., tlicre was a 
shower of rain, with some lightning and 
thunder, about daybreak in the morning, 
the rain continuing, with intervals, until 
after sunrise. The morning was cloudy 
and darki.sh ; and the sun, rising towards 
the zenith, gave no increase of light, as 
usual, but, on the contrary, the darkness 
continued to increase until between eleven 
and twelve o'clock, at which tinie there 
was the greatest obscurity in that place. 
What little motion of the air there was 
just at this period, was nearly from the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



93 



south ; though the atmosphere was as calm 
as the blandest summer morning. There 
was something more of a luminous appear- 
ance in the horizon, than in the hemi- 
sphere in general ; also, a most marked 
liveliness of tint to the grass and other 
green vegetation ; and a very noticeable 
yellowness in the atmosphere, which made 
clean silver nearly resemble the color of 
brass. At about twelve o'clock, noon, the 
singular obscuration ceased ; the greatest 
darkness, at auy particular time, was at 
least as dense as what is commonly called 
' candlelighting,' in the evening. In the 
town of Hartford, and the neighboring 
villages, the phenomenon was observed 
with all its distinctive peculiarities ; and, 
by some persons, the disc of the sun was 
seen, at the time of the greatest deficiency 
of light. 



such buildings. At twelve, the darkness 
was greatest, and a little rain fell ; in the 
street, the aspect was like that at the be- 
ginning of evening, as lights were seen 
burning in all the houses. The clouds 
were thinnest at the north; at the north- 
east, the clouds were very thick, and so 
low that hills could not be seen at the dis- 
tance of half a mile ; south-westerly, hills 
might be clearly seen at the distance of 
twenty miles, though the intermediate 
space was so shaded that it was impossi- 
ble to distinguish woodland from pa-ture. 
At half-past twelve, the clouds, having 
been hitherto detached, began to concen- 
trate at such an height, that all the hills 
became visible, and the country around 
exhibited a most beautiful tinted verdure ; 
at one, the clouds became uniformly 
spread, and the darkness was not greater 




CHAXGE OF SCENE AFTER THE DARK DAT. 



In Middlesex county, Mass., the peals 
of thunder were loud and frequent at six 
o'clock in the morning, attended with 
heavj-- rain ; at seven o'clock, the rain and 
thunder had ceased, but the sky contin- 
ued cloudy. Between nine and ten o'clock, 
the clouds were observed to thicken, and 
to receive continual accessions from the 
low lands. Before ten, the darkness had 
sen-ibly increased, till it became difficult 
to read an almanac in a room liavina two 

o 

windows ; at eleven o'clock, candles were 
lighted, and at half-past eleven the dark- 
ness was so great in the meeting-house, 
where a court was then sitting, that it 
was difficult to distinguish countenances 
at the smallest distance, notwithstanding 
the large number of windows usual in 



than is usual on a cloudy day. The same 
weather continued through the whole 
afternoon, except that the sun was seen 
for a few minutes, in some places, about 
three o'clock. At eight in the evening, 
the darkness was so impenetrably thick, 
as to render traveling positively imprac- 
ticable ; and, although the moon rose 
nearly full about nine o'clock, yet it did 
not give light enough to enable a person 
to distinguish between the heavens and 
the earth. 

In the account of this phenomenon given 
by Dr. Tenney, of New Hampshire, an in- 
telligent ob-erver and writer, are some 
interesting details, gathered by him while 
on a journey to Pennsylvania, from the 
east. He repeats and confirms the state- 



94 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ment made by others, that, previously to 
the commencement of the darkness, the 
sky was overcast with the common kind 
of clouds, from which there was, in some 
places, a moderate fall of rain. Between 
these and the earth, there intervened an- 
other stratum, apparently of great thick- 
ness ; as this stratum advanced, the dark- 
ness commenced, and increased with its 
progress till it came to its height, which 
did not take place till the hemisphere 
was a second time overspread — the uncom- 
mon thickness of this second stratum be- 
ing probably occasioned by two strong cur- 
rents of wind from the southward and 
westward, condensing the vapors and 
drawing them to the north-east. 

The result of Dr. Tenney's journey, — 
during which he made the best use of his 
opportunities for information, — was, that 
the darkness appeared to be most gross in 
Essex county, Massachusetts, the lower 
part of the state of New Hampshire, and 
in portions of what was then the province 
of Maine. In Rhode Island and Connect- 
icut it was not so great, and still less in 
New York; in New Jersey, the second 
stratum of clouds was observed, but it was 
not of any great thickness, nor was the 
darkness very uncommon ; in the lower 
parts of Pennsylvania, no extraordinary 
scene was noticed. 

Through the wh<ilo extent of country 
referriMl to, the lower cloud-stratunj luwl 
an uucoiuiiiDii Iiras.sy liuo, while the eartli 
and trees were adorned with so enchant- 
ing a verdure as could not escape notice, 
even ami<lst the unusual atmospheric 
gloom that accompanied it. The dark- 
ness of the following evening was proba- 
bly as deep and dense as ever had been ob- 
served since tlie Almighty fiat gave birth 
to light; it wanted only palpability to ren- 
der it as extraordinary as that which over- 
spread the land of Egypt, in the days of 
Moses. If every luminous body in the 
universe had been slirouded in impenetra- 
ble shades, or struck out of existence, it 
w;us thought the darkness could nut have 
been more complete. A sheet of white 
paper, held within a few inches of the 



eyes, was equally invisible with the black- 
est velvet. And, considering the small 
quantity of light that was transmitted 
by the clouds, during the day, it is not 
surprising that, at night, a sufficient quan- 
tit}' of rays should not be able to penetrate 
the same strata, brought back by tlie shift- 
ing of the winds, to afford the most ob- 
scure prospect even of the best reflecting 
bodies. The denseuess of this evening 
darkness was a fact universally observed 
and recorded. 

In view of all the information contained 
in the various accounts of this day, it ap- 
pears very certain that the atmosphere 
was charged with an uni)recedented quan- 
tity of vapor, — from wliat primary cause 
has never been satisfactorily determined ; 
and as the weather had been clear, the air 
heavy, and the winds small and variable 
for man}' days, the vapors, instead of dis- 
persing, must have been constantly rising 
and collecting in the air, until the atmos- 
phere became highly charged with them. 

A large quantity of tlie vapors, thus 
collected in the atmosphere, on the day in 
question, was floating near the surface of 
the earth. Wheresoever the specific grav- 
ity of any vapor is less than the specific 
gravity of the air, such a vapor will, by 
the law of fluids, ascend in the air ; where 
the specific gravity of a vapor, in the at- 
mospjiere, is greater than that of the air, 
such a vapor will descend ; and where the 
specific gravity of the vapor and air are 
the same, the vapor will then be at rest, — 
floating or swimming in the atmosphere, 
without ascending or descending. From 
the barometrical observations, it appears 
that the weight or gravity of the atmos- 
phere was gradually growing less, from 
the morning of the nineteenth of May, 
until the evening ; and hence the vapors, 
in most places, were descending from the 
higher parts of the atmosphere, towards 
the surface of the earth. According to 
one of the observations cited, the va])ors 
were noticed to ascend, until they rose to 
a height where the air was of the same 
specific gravity — a heiglit not much above 
the adjacent hills, — and here they in- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



95 



stantly spread, and floated in the atmos- 
phere. Erom these data, the conclusion 
is drawn, that the place where the vapors 
were balanced must have been very near 
the surface of the earth. 

Reasoning from the premises thus set 
forth, Prof. Williams was of the opinion 
that such a large quantity of vapor, float- 
ing in the atmosphere, near the earth's 
surface, might be sufficient to produce all 
the phenomena that made the nineteenth 
of May, 1780, so memorable. Thus, the 
direction in which the darkness came on 
would be determined by the direction of 
the wind, and this was known to be from 
the south-west ; the degree of the dark- 
ness would depend on the density, color, 
and situation of the clouds and vapor, and 
the manner in which they would transmit, 
reflect, refract, or absorb the rays of light ; 
the extent of the darkness would be as 
great as the extent of the vapor ; and the 
duration of it would continue until the 
gravity of the air became so altered that 
the vapors would change their situation, 
by an ascent or descent ; — all of which 
particulars, -it is claimed, agree with the 
observations that have been mentioned. 
Nor does the effect of the vapors, in dark- 
ening terrestrial objects, when they lay 
near the surface of the earth, appear to 
have. been greater than it was in darken- 
ing the sun and moon, when their situa- 
tion was higher in the atmosphere. 

It being thus evident that the atmos- 
phere was, from some peculiar cause (per- 
haps great fires in distant woods) charged, 
in a high degree, with vapors, and that 
these vapors were of different densities 
and occupied different heights, — the de- 
duction is, that by this means the rays of 
light falling on them must have suffered a 
variety of refractions and reflections, and 
thereby become weakened, absorbed, or so 
reflected, as not to fall upon objects on the 
earth in the usual manner ; and as the 
different vapors were adapted by their 
nature, situation, or density, to absorb or 
transmit the different kind of rays, so the 
colors of objects would appear to be af- 
fected by the mixture or prevalency of 



those rays which were transmitted through 
so uncommon a medium. This was the 
explanation suggested by Prof. Williams, 
though not to the exclusion of other the- 
ories. 

But there were not wanting those — and 
a large number they were too — who gave 
play, in their minds, to the most strange 
opinions concerning the cause of so mar- 
velous an appearance. It was imagined 
by some persons, that an eclipse of the 
sun, produced of course by an interposition 
of the moon, was the cause of the darkness 
— others attributed it to a transit of Venus 
or Mercury upon the disc of the sun — 
others imputed it to a blazing star, which 
they thought came between the earth and 
the sun. So whimsical, indeed, were some 
of the opinions which possessed men's 
minds at this time, that even so bare a 
vagary as that a great mountain obstructed 
the rays of the sun's light during that 
day, obtained advocates ! Whether they 
thought that a new mountain was created 
and placed between the earth and the sun, 
or that a mountain from this globe had 
taken flight and perched upon that great 
luminary, does not appear. 

That this darkness was not caused by 
an eclipse, is manifest by the various posi- 
tions of the planetary bodies at that time, 
for the moon was more than one hundred 
and fifty degrees from the sun all that 
day, and, according to the accurate calcu- 
lations made by the most celebrated as- 
tronomers, there could not, in the order of 
nature, be any transit of the planet Venus 
or Mercury upon the disc of the sun that 
j'ear ; nor could it be a blazing star — much 
less a mountain, — that darkened the at- 
mosphere, for this would still leave unex- 
plained the deep darkness of the following 
night. Nor would such excessive noc- 
turnal darkness follow an eclipse of the 
sun ; and as to the moon, she was at that 
time more than forty hours' motion past 
her opposition. 

One of the theories, looking to a solution 
of the mysterious occurrence, which found 
defenders, was as follows : The heat of the 
sun causes an ascent of numerous particles 



1 



96 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



which consist of different qualities, such as 
aqueous, sulphurous, bituminous, salinous, 
etc. ; hence the waters of the seas, rivers, 
and ponds ; the fumes of burning volca- 
noes, caused by subterraneous veins of 
liquid fire ; all the other kinds of smoke — 
fat, combustibles, oily matter from various 
kinds of earth, the juice of trees, plants 
and herbs ; salinous and nitrous particles 
from salt, snow water, and kindred sources ; 
— these are exhaled into the regions of the 
air, where their positions are subject to 
various mutations or changes by reason of 
the motion and compression of the air, 
causing them to bo sometimes rarefied and 
sometimes condensed. It was (according 
to this theory,) a vast collection of such 
particles that caused the day of darkness ; 
that is, the particles, after being e.\Iialed, 
were driven together by certain winds 
from opposite points of the compass, and 
condensed to such a degree by the weight 
of the earth's atmosphere, that they ob- 
structed the appearance of the rays of the 
sun by day, and those of the moon by 
night. 

Having thus presented the facts and 
circumstances pertaining to this notable 
day in the history of the New England or 
northern states, it may not be amiss to 
add, that a similar day of mysterious dark- 
ness occurred on October 21, 1716 ; the 
day was so dark, that people were forced 
to light candles to dine by, — a darkness 
whicli could not proceed from any eclipse, 
a solar eclipse having taken place on the 
fourth of that mouth. There was also a 
remarkable darkness at Detroit and vicin- 
ity, October 19, 1762, being almost total for 
the greater part of the day. It was dark 
at day-break, and this continued until nine 
o'clock, when it cleared up a little, and, for 
the space of about a quarter of an hour, 
the body of the sun was visible, it appear- 
ing as red as blood, and more than three 



times as large as usual. The air, all this 
time, was of a dingy yellowish color. At 
half-past one o'clock, it was so dark as to 
necessitate the lighting of candles, in 
order to attend to domestic duties. At 
about three in the afternoon, the darkness 
became more dense, increasing in intensity 
until half-past three, when the wind 
breezed up from the southwest and brought 
on a slight fall of rain, accompanied with 
a profuse quantity of fine black particles, 
in appearance much like sulphur, both in 
smell and quality. A sheet of clean paper, 
held out in this rain, was rendered quite 
black wherever the drops fell upon it ; but, 
when held near the fire, it turned to a yel- 
low color, and, when burned, it fizzed on 
the paper, like wet powder. So black did 
these powdery particles turn everything 
upon which they fell, that even the river 
was covered with a black froth, which, 
when skimmed off the surface, resembled 
the lather of soap, with this difiference, that 
it was more greasy, and its color as black 
as ink. At seven, in the evening, the air 
was more clear. This phenomenon was 
observed throughout a viist region of coun- 
try ; and, though various conjectures were 
indulged in, as to the cause of so extraor- 
dinary an occurrence, the same degree of 
mystery attaches to it as to that of 1780, — 
confounding the wisdom even of the most 
learned philosophers and men of science. 

It may easily be imagined, that, as the 
deep and mysterious darkness which cov- 
ered the land on the memorable nineteenth 
of May filled all hearts with wonder — and 
multitudes with fear, — so, the return, at 
last, of that brightness and beauty ch:irac- 
teristic of the month and of the season, 
brought gladness again to the faces of the 
young, and composure to the hearts of the 
aged ; for never before did nature appear 
clothed in so charming an attire of sun- 
shine, sky and verdure. 



V. 

TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD.— 1780. 



Darkest Page in American Revolutionary History, — Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of Amer- 
ica, Over to the British. — Movements of the Guilty Parties — Discovery and Frustration of the Crime. 
— Major Andie, the British Spy, is Captured, and Swings from a Gibbet — Escape of Arnold to the 
Enemy. — Is Spurned and Isolated in England. — Arnold's Unquestioned Bravery. — Commended by 
General Washington — Infamous Personal Transactions — Reprimanded by his Chief — Determines on 
Revenge. — Correspondence with the Foe — Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again —Obtains Com. 
mand of West Point — Midnight Conference with Andre — Andre Seized while Heturning — Astound- 
ing Evidence Against Him — Attempts to Bribe His Captors. — Carried to American Head- Quarters. — 
Arnold Apprised of the Event. — A Hurried Farewell to His Wife. — Quick Pursuit of the Traitor. — 
He Reaches a British Man-of-War. — Washington's Exclamation at the News — His Call on Mrs. Ar- 
nold — Andre's Trial and Conviction — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His Unlamented Death. 



" Providence, which has so often ond bo remarkably interpoBc d in our favor, never maoifcBted itself more conspicuously than in the timely 
discovery ot Arnold's horrid intention to surrender tlie post and garrison of West Point to the enemy."— Wasiiinoton. 




AliK and tragical, indeed, is that page in the history of 
the American revolutionary war, which records Benedict 
Arnold's atrocious scheme of treason against his native 
land, in its struggle against British oppression. Equally 
^ strange and startling is the story which narrates the dis- 
(■()\ery and frustration of so perfidious a plot. Around 
the memory of the unfortunate Andre, pity still wreathes 
her romantic chaplet ; while the name of Arnold will, 
to the end of time, transfix every patriotic mind, as that 
PRICE OF AuxoLD's TREASON. of the blacUest among modern criminals. The treacher- 
ous deed was committed, too, in a year of deep depression on the part of the Americans. 
Of Arnold, personally and professionally, it may be remarked, that he was born in 
Norwich, Connecticut, in 1740, and began his business career at an early age, as a horse- 
dealer, and not over-scrupulous. He was also for a time a druggist and bookseller in 
New Haven. At the beginning of the war of the Eevolution he placed himself at the 
head of a volunteer company, and soon distinguished himself ; was associated also with 
General Montgomery in the expedition against Quebec. In this latter most disastrous 
affair, undertaken in severe weather, his illustrious colleague lost his life, and Arnold, 
who was severely wounded in the leg, displayed the highest abilities as a commander 
and the greatest gallantry as a soldier, eliciting Washington's warmest esteem and ad- 
miration. But, licentious and rapacious as he was brave and intelligent, he plundered 
Montreal in his retreat, and by his misconduct exasperated the minds of the Canadians, 
who previously were not hostile to the Revolution. After exhibiting great courage 
and skill on Lake Champlain, at Fort Schuyler, and the battle of Stillwater, his leg 
was shattered by a ball on the seventh of October, 1777, in a daring assault on 



98 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177C.-1S7G. 



the Englisli lines, which lie penetrated, and 
but for his wound would have carried. 
Being thus untitted for active service, he 
was appointed commander of the garrison 
at Philadeliihia, but his dissipation, extor- 
tion, and peculation, at last subjected him 
to a trial by court martial, and to a rej>ri- 
mand from Washington, at the beginning 
of 1779. This sentence was approved by 
Congress, and carried into execution by 
General Washington. Embarrassed in his 
circumstances, disappointed in his expec- 
tations, and exasperated by disgrace, he 
formed the design of retrieving his misfor- 
tunes and satisfying his revenge, by be- 
traying his country. It was in this wise : 

Wliile the Briti.sh army was in Pliila- 
delphia, in the spring of 1778, a grand 
parting entertainment was given by the 
royalists to Sir William Howe, the British 
commander-in-chief. Major Andre, made 
Adjutant-General of the army by Howe's 
successor, was one of the chief managers 
of t!ie affair. Miss Sliippen, a I'liiladel- 
phia belle (and who subsequently became 
Mrs. Arnold), figured conspicuously among 
the actors of the entertainment, and she 
and Andre kejit up a correspondence after- 
ward. Through this channel Arnold saw, 
after his marriage with Miss Sliippen, an 
opportunity for communicating with Sir 
Henr^' Clinton, the British commander at 
New York. In other words, he deter- 
mined to betray his country, — being, in 
this respect, an almost solitary instance, 
Dr. ]?enjamin Church, of Massachusetts, 
surgeon-general, being the other principal 
offender. 

Under fictitious names, and in the dis- 
guise of mercantile business, Arnold was 
even now in treacherous correspondence 
with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major 
Andre. To him the British general com- 
mitted the maturing of Arnold's treason, 
anil, to facilitate measures for its execu- 
tion, the sloop of war Vulture moved up 
the North river, and took a station con- 
venient for the purpose, but not so near as 
to excite suspicion. An interview was 
agreed on, and in the night of September 
twenty-first, 1780, he was taken in a boat. 



which was dispatched for the purpose, and 
carried to the beach, without the posts of 
both armies, under a pass for John Ander- 
son. He met General Arnold at the house 
of a Mr. Smith. 

Yielding with reluctance to the urgent 
representations of Arnold, Andre laid aside 
his regimentals, which ho had hitherto 
worn under a surtout, putting on a suit of 
ordinar}' clothes instead ; and now, receiv- 
ing a pass from the American general, 
authorizing him, under the feigned name 
of John Anderson, to " proceed on the 
public service to the White Plains, or 
lower if he thought proper," he set out on 
his return in the evening of the twent}'- 
second, accompanied by Joshua Smith, and 
passed the night at Crompond. The next 
morning he crossed the Hudson to King's 
Eerry on the east side. A little be^'ond 
the Croton, Smith deeming him safe, bade 
him adieu. Alone, and without having 
excited the least suspicion, Andre passed 
the American guards, and was silently 
congratulating himself that lie had passed 
all danger, when, coming to a place where 
a small stream crossed the road and ran 
into a woody dell, a man stepped out from 
the trees, leveled a musket, and brought 
him to a stand, while two other men, sim- 
ilarly armed, showed themselves prepared 
to second their comrades. The man who 
at first stepped out wore a refugee uniform. 
At sight of it, Andre's heart leapt, and he 
felt himself secure. Losing all caution, 
he exclaimed eagerly : 

"Gentlemen, where do you belong? I 
hope to our i)arty ! " 

" Wlidt party?" was their immediate 
inquiry in response; the trio consisting of 
scouting militiamen, named Paulding, 
Williams, and Van Wart. 

"The party below," — meaning New 
York, was the answer. 

'• We do," was the shrewd rc])ly of the 
three, as they now seized the bridle of the 
unfortunate man's horse, and challenged 
his business in that place. 

Seeing, beyond all doubt, the hands he 
had fallen into, Andre quickly .shifted his 
tactics by jocosely remarking that what he 



I 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



99 



had first represented himself to be was 
merely by wa3' of badinage, and that he 
was in reality a Continental officer, going 
down to Dobbs Ferrj' to get information 
from below; so saying, he drew forth and 
showed them the pass from General Arnold. 
This in the first place would have sufficed, 
but his strange conduct and imprudent 
speech had so thoroughly betrayed him, 
that the three militiamen insisted on 
searching his person. They therefore 
obliged liim to take off his coat and vest, 
and found on him eighty dollars in Conti- 
nental money, but nothing to warrant sus- 
picion of anything sinister, and were about 
to let liim jiroceed, when one of them — 



marks on the works ; also other important 
documents. 

Wiiile dressing again, Andre endeavored 
to ransom himself from his captors. He 
would give any sum of money, if they 
would let him go; would give his horse, 
saddle, bridle, gold watch, and one hundred 
guineas, and woidd send them to anyplace 
that might be fixed upon. 

Williams asked, ironicallj', whether he 
would not give more than all that. 

Andre replied, that he would give any 
reward they might name either in goods 
or money, and would remain with two of 
tlieir party while one went to New York 
to get it. 




CAPTURE OF ANDRE. 



Paulding, a stout-hearted youngster — ex- 
claimed : 

" Boj's, I am not satisfied — his boots 
must come off." 

At this Andre changed color. His 
boots, he said, came off with difficulty, and 
he begged he might not be subjected to 
the inconvenience and delay. His remon- 
strances were in vain. He was compelled 
to sit down ; his boots were drawn off and 
the concealed papers discovered. Hastily 
scanning them, Paulding exclaimed — 

"Ml/ God! He is aspijf" 

The papers, which were in the hand- 
writing of Arnold, contained exact returns 
of the state of the forces, ordnance, and 
defenses of West Point, with critical re- 



Here Paulding broke in and declared 
with an oath, that if he would give ten 
thousand guineas he should not stir one 
step. 

On the morning of the twenty-eighth of 
September, Andre, in charge of Major 
Tallmadge, was conveyed in a barge to 
King's Ferry. Being both young, of equal 
rank, and prepossessing manners, a fiank 
and cordial intercourse grew up between 
them. By a cartel, mutually agreed upon, 
each might put to the other any question 
not involving a third person. They were 
passing below the rocky heights of West 
Point and in full view of the frowning 
fortress, when T.allmadge asked Andre 
whether he would have taken an active 



100 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



part in tho attack on it, should Arnold's 
plan have succeeded. 

Andre promptly answered tliis question 
in the affirmative; pointed out a table of 
land on the west shore, where he would 
have landed a select corps, described the 
route he would have taken up the moun- 
tain to a height in the rear of Fort Put- 
nam, overlooking the whole parade of 
West Point — "and this he did," writes 
Tallmadge, " with much greater exactness 
than I could have done. This eminence 
he would have reached without difficulty, 
as Arnold would have disposed of the gar- 
rison in such manner as to be capable of 
little or no opiwsitiou — and then the kfi/ 



public ear, and all hearts turned for relief 
to the wisdom of Washington. Unfortu- 
nately for tlie ends of justice, Andre asked 
permission of Colonel Jameson, as soon as 
he was taken to the latter's custody, to 
write to General Arnold, to inform him 
that ' Anderson ' was detained. Not 
knowing the rank of his prisoner nor the 
magnitude of the plot, the letter was al- 
lowed by Jameson to be sent, and Arnold, 
being thus apprised, escaped. Colonel 
Jameson also forwarded to General Wash- 
ington the papers found on the jiri^oner, 
and a statement of tlie manner in which 
he was taken. 

The papers sent to Washington missed 




^c.X^^.2^ ./^^^ 



of the count)'!/ would hare been in his 
hands, and he would have had the glory 
of the splendid achievement." Talhnailge 
ventured to ask Andre what was to have 
been his reward had he succeeded. To 
this the re[)ly was : " Military glory was 
all I sougiit The thanks of my general 
,uul tlie approbation of my king would 
liave been a rich reward for such an under- 
taking." Tallmadge also adds : " I think 
lie further remarked, that, if ho had suc- 
ceeded, he was to have been jiromoted to 
the rank of a brigadier-general." 

The news of Andre's arrest and Arnold's 
treason fell like a thniiderbMt unon the 



him, as he did not return by the road lie 
went, but took the northern route to Fish- 
kill, where, September twenty-fourth, he 
arrived late in the afternoon, the very day 
after Andre's capture, — of which event 
and of Arnold's treason lie was wholly 
unconscious. Stopping at FisLkill only a 
short time, he pushed on for the quarters 
of his brave general, Arnold, some eighteen 
miles distant. lie had gone, however, but 
a mile or two, before he met the French 
minister, Chevalier Luzerne, on his way to 
Newport, to visit Rqchambeau, the French 
naval commander. The latter prevailed 
on him to return to Fishkill for the night. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



101 



as he had matters of importance to com- 
municate. 

The next morning, Washington was 
early in the saddle, having sent word be- 
forehand to Arnold that he would break- 
fast with him. It was a bright autumnal 
morning, and the whole party in high 
spirits pushed rapidly forward through the 
gorges of the Highlands. As they came 
opposite West Point, Washington, instead 
of continuing on to Arnold's quarters, 
which were on the same side, turned his 
horse down a narrow road toward the 
river. Lafayette observing this, ex- 
claimed — 

" General, j'ou are going in the wrong 
direction; you know Mrs. Arnold is wait- 
ing breakfast for us, and that road will 
take us out of the way." 



Jameson, commanding at North Castle, 
announcing the capture of Andre, and who 
had been brought in to Jameson's post, by 
three militiamen, Paulding, Williams, and 
Van Wart, his captors, whom the gallant 
but unfortunate man vainly endeavored to 
bribe, in oider to his release. They knew 
him to be a spy, but were ignorant of his 
military rank. 

Merely remarking tliat his presence at 
We^t Point was necessary, Arnold re- 
quested the aids to say to Washington on 
his arrival that he was unexpectedly called 
over the river, and would be back soon. 
Repairing to his wife's chamber, he sent 
for her at the breakfast table, and told her 
that he must instantly leave her and his 
country forever, for death was his certain 
doom if he did not reach the eneniv before 




WEST POINT IX 1780, 



" Ah ! " replied Washington, laughingly, 
" I know you young men are all in love 
with Mis. Arnold, and wish to get where 
she is as soon as possible. You may go 
and take breakfast with her, and tell her 
not to wait for me. I must ride down and 
examine the redoubts on this side of the 
river, and will be there in a short time." 

The officers preferring not to proceed 
without him, two aids were dispatched to 
tell Arnold not to wait breakfast. The 
latter, therefore, with his family and the 
two aids sat down to the table. While 
they were conversing on indifferent topics. 
a messenger entnred and handed a letter 
to Arnold, who opened and read it in pres- 
ence of the company, without, of coursi", di- 
vulging its contents. It was from Colonel 



he was detected. Paral3'zed by the sud- 
den blow, she fell senseless at his feet. 
Not daring to call for help, Arnold left her 
in that state, and rapidly descending to the 
door, mounted one of the horses belonging 
to Washington's aids, and taking a 
by-way pushed for the river, where his 
barge was moored. Jumping in, ho or- 
dered his si.x oarsmen to pull for Teller's 
Point. Stimulating them to greater 
efforts by the promise of two g.allons of 
rum, he swept rapiilly past V( rplanik's 
Point, and as he approached the British 
ship Vulture, waved a white jiaiulkerchief, 
and was soon on board. In the meantime, 
Washington, h.aving finished his survey, 
rode on to Arnold's house. Taking a 
hasty breakfast, and being informed that 



102 



OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Mrs. Arnold was in her room, unwell, lie 
said lie would not w;iit for Arnold to 
return, but cross over to West Point and 
meet liiin there. As the boat swept over 
the water, he remarked — 

"Well, gentlemen, I am glad on the 
whole that General Arnold has gone before 
us, for we shall now have a salute, and the 
roaring of the cannon will have a line 
effect among these mountains." 

At this moment an officer was seen 
coming down the rocky hill-side, to 
meet the barge. It was Colonel 
Lamb, who looked confounded on 
seeing the commander-in-chief. He 
commenced an apology, declaring 
that ho was wholly ignorant of his 
excellency's intention to visit West 
Point. 

" How is this, sir," broke in Wash- 
ington, " is not General Arnold liore ? " 

"No, sii-," replied the colonel, "he has 
not been here those two days, nor have I 
heard from him in that time." 

"This is extraordinary," replii'd Wash- 
ington; "he left word that he had crossed 
the river. However, our visit must not 
be in vain. Since we have come, we must 
look around and see in what state things 
are with j'ou." 

And now it was that Hamilton broke 
the astounding news to his chief. The 
litter, stunned and bewildered, ordered 
Hamilton to mount a horse and ride as for 
life to Verplanck's Point, and stop Arnohl, 
if possible; he called iu Knox and Lafay- 
ette, and told them what had occurred, 
merely remarking at the close, " Whom 
can we trust now?" His countenance 
was calm as erer, and being informed that 
Arnold's wife was in a state bordering on 
insanity, he went up to her room to soothe 
her. In her frenzy she upbraided him 
with being in a plot to murder her child. 
One moment she raved, anr>ther she melted 
into tears. Sometimes she pressed her 
infant to her bosom and lamented its fate, 
occasioned by the impriidencoof its father, 
in a manner that would have pierced in- 
sensibility itself. It was four o'clock in 
the afternoon when these disclosures of 



Arnold's treason and Andre's capture were 
made to Washington, and, an hour later, 
dinner being announced, he said — 

" Come, gentlemen, since Mrs. Arnold 
is unwell and the general is absent, let us 
sit down without ceremony." 

No one at the table but Knox and La- 
fayette knew what had transpired, nor 
did Washington exhibit any cliange of 
■ l'"iic:m"r. <-xi-4>|it that 1m- \v:i< more than 




GENERAL ARNOLK'S IIFAD-QCARTER-S. 

usually stern in his voice and manner. 
I)Ut his mind, oppressed with nameless 
fears, wandered far away from that dinner 
table, and no sooner was the quiet repast 
over than he addressed himself to the tai-k 
before him. He wrote rapidly, and cour- 
iers were soon seen gallojiing in every di- 
rection. He announced the treason to 
Colonel Wade, commanding at West Point, 
in the absence of Colonel Lamb, in the 
single sentence, " General Anio/d is gone 
to the enemy." Having done all he could 
to arrest the tremendous evils that threat- 
ened to overwhelm him, Washington re- 
tired late at night to his bed, fearful that 
the sound of the enemy's cannon, under 
the auspices of Arnold's treacherous 
schemes, would awake him before day- 
light. It happily did not prove so. 

A court-maitial, having condemned 
Andre as a spy. Sir Henry Clinton, the 
British general, put forth every effort to 
avert the dreadful fate of his officer. He 
sent three commissioners to reason and re- 
monstrate with the officers of the court. 
He appealed to Washington, while Arnold 
wrote him a threatening letter, declaring 
if Andre was hung he would revenge his 
death on every American prisoner that fell 
into his hands. Washington deigned no 
reply to the letter, but tenderly forwarded 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



103 



Mrs. Arnold and her baggage over to the 
British side. 

Washington, though his heart was filled 
with the keenest sorrow for the fate of one 
so universall}' beloved, and possessed of 
such noble qualities of heart and mind, 
refused to arrest the course of justice. As 
in all cases where great trouble came upon 
him, so in this, he said but little, but 



sternly and silently wrestled with it alone. 
Arnold was made brigadier-general in the 
British service, and put on an official level 
■with honorable men, who scorned, how- 
ever, to associate with him. What golden 
reward he was to have received had he 
succeeded in delivering West Point to the 
enemy, is not known ; £30,000, most prob- 
ably. 



VI. 

CORNWALLIS SURRENDERS IIIS SPLENDID ARMY TO 
GENER^VL WASHINGTON.— 1781. 



Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. — Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of King 
George — Their Vaunted Wager of Battle Returns to Them witlithe Loss of their Fairest Possession. 
— Washington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Ilim as their Deliverer. — Last Act in the 
Military Drama. — Cornwallis Halts at Yorktown — Makes it His Defensive Post. — Decoy letter 
Sent by Washington, — The British Strongly Fortified. — American and French Forces United. — Their 
Advance on the Enemy. — Furious Bombardment — Hedoubts Stormed by Lafayette. — Both Sides 
Confident of Triumph. — British Efforts to Retreat — Cornwallis Prefers Death to Defeat —Reckless 
Bravery of Washington. — Ardor and E.xultation of His Troops. — Cornwallis Fails of Re-enforccments. 
— He Asks a Cessation of Hostilities. — Forced to Yield the Struggle. — Universal Rejoicing of Amer- 
icans. — Mortification of the English. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and I'itt. — They Demand that the 
War Cease. — The Voice of Parliament — Commemorative Action hy Congress. 



"Oh, Godl It u til oTcr— U u olloverl"— Lobd Nobtu, Pbihe Ministeb or Exolavv, ox UEAuirco or Cou.NwjiLLis'a Subbic.nueu. 




' T the liead of a powerful .irniy, with 
wliich he had just estuWished himself 
iu Yiryiiiiii, Lord Coriiwullls vuunt- 
ingly wrote to General Clinton, his 
superior, as follows ; — 

" I liavo ventured, these last two 
days, to look Gener.il Washington's 
whole force in the face, in the posi- 
tion on the outside of my works, and 
have the pleasure to .assure your Ex- 
cellency that there is but one wish 
throughout the armj-, which is, that 
the enemy iroiild advance." ■ 

Scarcely did Cornwallis have 
time to awake from his day-dream 
of security, when a courier was 
thundering at the doors of the 
Continental Congress, with the 
■^^ -^ following dispatch from Oeiieral 

Washington : " I have the honor to inform congress that a reduction of the British army, 
under the command of Lord Cornw.allis, is most h.ippily effected. The unremitted ardor, 
which actuated every officer and soldier in the combined army on this occasion, has 
princip.ally led to this important event, at an earlier period than my most sanguine 
hopes had induced me to expect. The singular spirit of emulation, which animated the 
whole army from the first commencement of our operations, h.as filled my mind with the 



:^-i€^'^ 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



105 



highest pleasure and satisfaction, and had 
given me the happiest presages of success." 

A glorious event, one eliciting the 
most unbounded demonstrations of joy 
throughout the United States, and which 
completely destroyed British military 
power at the south, thus setting the seal of 
American success upon the contest with 
the mother country, — was the capture, as 
announced in the above dispatch, of Lord 
Cornwallis and his splendid army, at York- 
town, Virginia, in October, 1781, by the 
combined American and French forces 
under General Washington and Counts de 
Eochambeau and Grasse. 

In the summer of 1781, Cornwallis had 
taken possession of several places in the 
south, and, in the latter part of July, de- 
sirous of establishing himself firmly in 
Virginia, he accordingly selected York- 
town as a suitable defensive post and capa- 
ble of protecting ships of the line. Little 
did he think, as he began leisurely to for- 
tify the place, that it was a net which 
would entangle him in crushed hopes and 
ruined fortunes. Yorktown is situated at 
the narrowest part of the peninsula formed 
by the York and James rivers, where the 
distance across is but eight miles. By 
placing his troops, therefore, around the 
village, and drawing about them a range 
of outer redoubts and field works calcu- 
lated to command this peninsula, Cornwal- 
lis had, as he thought, established himself 
well. 

Lafayette, with an inferior number of 
troops, was" at this time at Williamsburg, 
but was unable to make successful engage- 
ments with the superior force of the Brit- 
ish. Seeing, at once, the importance of 
putting some check upon the progress of 
Cornwallis at the south, Washington de- 
termined to unite the American and French 
forces, then in the neighborhood of New 
York, and join Lafavette at Williamsburg. 
This junction was effected on the four- 
teenth of September, Washington being at 
the head of the American troops, and the 
Count de Eochambeau at the head of the 
French forces. At the same time the 
Count de Grasse, with his fleet, entered 



the Chesapeake, after a slight engagement 
with Admiral Graves off the capes, and 
was joined by the squadron of the Count 
de Barras from Newport. Three thou- 
sand men, under the Marquis St. Simon, 
were also added to the troops under La- 
fayette's command ; and these combined 
forces then moved toward Yorktown and 
Gloucester, where Corwallis was sta- 
tioned. 

The British general had been expecting 
aid from Sir Henry Clinton at the north, 
but so adroitly had Washington withdrawn 
his troops, that Sir Henry scarcely sus- 
pected his design, till it was too late to 
frustrate it. On the thirteenth of Septem- 
ber, the allied army occupied the outer 
lines of Cornwallis, which that general 
had abandoned without a struggle. York- 
town was in a short time completely 
invested ; the American army occupying 
the right, and the French the left, forming 
a semi-circle with each wing resting upon 
the river. On the night of the sixth of 
October the besieging army broke ground 
within six hundred yards of the British 
lines ; and the first parallel was completed 
with little loss. On the ninth and tenth, 
guns were mounted on the works, and the 
batteries began to play, with visible effect, 
on the lines of the enemy. ]\Ian\' of their 
guns were soon silenced, and their works 
damaged. By the eleventh, the enemy 
scarcely returned a shot. The shells and 
red-hot balls of the besiegers reached the 
shipping in the harbor, and set the Charon 
frigate of fortj--four guns, and several 
large transports on fire, which were en- 
tirely consumed. On the night of the 
eleventh, the second parallel was begun 
within three hundred yards of the British 
lines. The working parties were not dis- 
covered until day-light, when the trenches 
were in a situation to cover the men. 

But there were two redoubts in particu- 
lar, in front of the British lines and which 
flanked the second parallel of the Ameri- 
cans, that gave great annoyance to the 
latter, and it was deemed necessary to 
carry them by storm. To prevent national 
jealousy, however, and to keep alive the 






106 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



spirit of emulation which animated the co- 
operating armies, the attack of one was 
assigned to the American troops, and that 
of tlie otlicr to the French. Lafayette 
commanded the American detaclnuent, and 
the Baron de Viominet the French. 
Colonel Hamilton, who through this cam- 
paign comnianded a battalion of light in- 
fantry, led the advanced corps of the 
Americans to the assault, while Colonel 
Laurens turned the redoubt and attacked 



in his confidence of triumph had so recently 
written to his superior. Sir Henry Clinton. 
Having failed in his sortie, and knowing 
that his jiosition had liecome untenable, 
the liritisli general took the desperate res- 
olution of crossing over to Gloucester 
Point in the night, and cutting his wa}' 
through the blockading force there — then, 
mounting his men on whatever horses he 
could seize, make a rapid march northward 
and join Sir Henry Clinton ! By this 




• KNWAl.l.lN > 



in the rear, to prevent the retreat of the 
garrison. Without giving time for the 
abattis to be removed, and without firing 
a gun, the Americans gallantly assaulted, 
and instantly carried the works, with a 
small loss of men on either side. The re- 
doubt attacked by the French being more 
strongly garrisone<l made greater resist- 
ance, and was overcome with a much heav- 
ier loss. The success of these movements 
was a stunning blow to Cornwallis, who. 



movement he would abandon bis siik and 
baggage ; but he would save himself the 
disgrace of a surrender. Boats were se- 
cretly procured, and the first embarkation 
reached the point safely and unperceived ; 
but, at this junrtuic a violent storm arose, 
which drove the boats down the river. 
The temi>est continuing until day-light, 
the enterprise was necessarily given up, 
and the troops that had passed over gladly 
re-crossed to the southern field. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



107 



In the mortification and anguish of his 
soul, Cornwallis shed tears, and expressed 
his preference for death ratlier tlian tlie 
ignominy of a surrender. But there was 
no resource — tlie liandwriting on the wall 
was against him — the fate of war must be 
accepted. The siege had continued close 
for more than two weeks, and, notwith- 
standing the losses in killed, wounded, and 
missing, that had heen sustained, the Brit- 
ish army showed a handsome force of be- 
tween seven and eight thousand trained 
fighting men, of unquestioned bravery, but 
who were soon to capitulate to the besieg- 
ing forces, numbering, in all, some sixteen 
thousand men, less disciplined, jierhaps, 
but determined and indomitable. 

Of Washington, the central character 
and actor in this great drama, every 
American heart engrossingly thinks. 
Knowing that Sir Henry Clinton had 
written to Cornwallis, bidding him to 
strengthen his position at Yorktown, and 
promising him the immediate ai<l of both 
land and naval forces, Washington had, 
seasonably and with shrewd forecast, writ- 
ten a letter to Lafaj-ette, then in Virginia, 
which he cat(scitto he iiitcrrepfi'J. In this 
letter he remarked that ho was pleased 
with the probaliility that Earl Cornwallis 
would fortify either Portsmouth or Old 
Point Comfort, for, were lie to fix upon 
Yorktown, from its great capabilities of 
defense, he might remain there snugly and 
unharmed, until a superior British fleet 
would relieve him with strong re-enforce- 
ments, or embark him altogether. 

This decoy letter quieted the apprehen- 
sions of the British commander-in-chief as 
to the danger of Cornwallis, and produced 
those delays in the operations of Sir Henry, 
which, as will have been seen, tended so 
materially to the success of the allies and 
the surrender of Yorktown. Thus it was 
that Washington by his pen, laid the 
train of success so well. Nor less so with 
his sword. In the simultaneous attack 
upon the redoubts, made by the combined 
American and French army, Washington 
was an intensely-excited spectator. He 
had dismounted from his horse — the mag- 



nificent charger, named Nelson, — and j>ut 
him in the care of a servant, while the 
general himself took his stand in the grand 
battery with his two chief generals, Lin- 
coln and Knox, and their aids, and here 
he exposed himself to everj' danger. 

When all was over, at this critical junc- 
ture, — the redoubts being taken, and 
Washington's intense anxiety so happily 
relieved, — the general drew a long breath, 
and looking at Knox with an expression 
of extreme satisfaction, remarked, briefly, 
'■ The work is done, and well done ! " 
Motioning to his faithful servant, who was 
quickly in his presence, he said, " William, 
bring mo my horse," — mounting which, the 
chieftain j)roceeded to make sure that the 
success which had attended the first par- 
allel was followed up energetically until 
no loop-hole was left, through which Corn- 
wallis might escape. No such loop-hole 
was afforded, and Cornwallis's doom was 
sealed. 

It was a proud day for the war-worn 
troops of America to see so fine an army 
not only within their grasp, but, to all in- 
tents and purposes, completely at their 
disposal, — waiting only those last formali- 
ties which give solemn dignity to the de- 
crees already made by the sword, — and 
they saw, in the coming event, the final 
catastrojihe of British rule in America, — 
the close of the Revolutionary drama, — ■ 
the establishment of a free and independ- 
ent republic. As already remarked, Corn- 
wallis had hoped for succor to the last, but 
the slaughter of his men became too seri- 
ous to be any longer endured, and finally 
the loud beat of the c/iamade was heard in 
the intervals of the explosions of cannon, 
and the firing ceased. Cornwallis then 
sent a flag of truce requesting a cessation 
of hostilities for twenty-four hours, to ar- 
range the terms of capitulation. To this 
Washington would not consent, fearing 
that the arrival of the English fleet in the 
meantime might alter the aspect of affairs, 
and allowed him but two hours in which 
to transmit his proposals. The full sur- 
render took place the next day, October 19, 
1781, the articles of capitulation being 



108 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S7G 



sigiii'd by Cornwallis at the house of a Mr. 
Moore. 

At about 12 o'clock of tliat day, the 
coiiibiiu'(l coutiiK'iital army was drawn xi\> 
in two lines more than a mile in lengtli, 
the Americans on the right side of the 
road, and their French allies on the left. 
Washington, mounted on a noble steed, 
and attended by his staff, was in front of 
the former; the Count de Rochanibeau 
and his suite, of the latter. The French 
troops, in ciinqdete uniform, and well 
equipped, maile a brilliant ai>pearance, and 
had inarched to the ground with a band of 
music playing, which was a novelty in the 
American service. The American troops, 
but j)art in uniform, and all in garments 
much the worse for wear, yet had a spirited 
soldier-like air, and were not the worse in 
the eyes of their countrymen for bearing 
the marks of hard service and great ]iriva- 
tions. The concourse of spectators drawn 
friini all tlif neiglili(iring country to witness 
a sceni' so thrilling and momentous, was 
almost etpial in nundicr to the military, 
but silence and order prevailed unbroken. 

The enthusiasm throughout the country, 
on the surrender of Cornwallis, was un- 
iKJUinled. " Cornirallis in taken!" was 
the message which sped itself with the 
wings of the wind to every city, town and 
village, and was shouted by every mouth. 
But the mortification of Cornwallis was 
intense, and the British cabinet, on hear- 
ing the news, turned ]iale with despair. 
Lords (iermain, Walsinghani, anil Slor- 
mount, proceeded to Jjonl North's houM% 
and there, at midnight, announced to him 
the portentous dispatih. The haughty 
premier was astouiide(l and hundded. In 
the words of Lord tJermain, in answer to 
the inquiry how Lord North received the 
news? — "As he would have received a ball 
in his breast; for he opene<l his arms, e.\- 
daiming wildly as he paced up and down 
the apartment, ' Oh God ! It is all over — 
it is all over.'"' King George III. was at 
Kew, and the intelligence was forwarded 
to him at that place, lie exhiliited no loss 
of stdf-control, it is said, notwithstanding 
the hopes which had been centered in Corn- 



wallis and his army, to give triumph to 
the British arms. 

It is well known that, during the month 
of Novend)er, the accounts received by the 
British government, of Lor<l Cornwallis's 
embarrassments, gave great anxiety to tlie 
cabinet. Lord George Gernuiin, in ]iartic- 
ular, conscious that on the prosperous or 
adverse result of Cornwallis's movements 
hinged the result of the whole Anu'rican 
contest, as well as his own political fate — 
and probably the duration of the ministry 
itself, — expressed to his friends the strong- 
est uneasiness on the subject. The meet- 
ing of parliament stood fi.xed for the 27th 
of that month. On the 2oth, the odicial 
intelligence of the unconditional surrender 
of the British forces of Yorktown, arrived 
at Lord Germain's house. Lord Walsing- 
hani, who, previous to his father, Sir Wil- 
liam <le Grey's elevation to the ]ieerage, 
had been under-secretary of state in that 
departnuMit, and who was to seeonil the 
address in the house of lords, haiqiened to 
be there when the messenger brought the 
news. Without communicating it to any 
unofficial person. Lord George, for the 
jiurpose of dis[)ati h, immediately got with 
him into a hackney-coach, and drove to 
Lord Stormount's residence in I'ortland 
I'lace. Having imiiarted the disastrous 
infornnition to him, they determined, after 
a short consultation, to lay the intelligence 
themselves in person before Lord North, 
with what result has already been state<l 
on the authority of a writer in Blackwood's 
Maj^azine. 

The next picture is that of a cabinet 
council in terror. When the first agitation 
had subsided, the four ministers discussed 
the (pu'stion, whether it might not be ex- 
pedient to prorogue the meeting of parlia- 
nu'Ut for a few days ; but as scarcely an 
interval of forty-eight hours remained be- 
fore the apjiointed time of meeting, and as 
many nuaubers of both houses had arrived 
in London, or were on their way, the prop- 
osition was abandoned. It became, how- 
ever, indispensable to alter, and almost 
remodel, the king's siieeeh. This was 
done without delay, and at the same time 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



109 



Lord George, as secretary for the American 
department, sent off a dispatch to the 
king, then at Kew, acquainting him with 
Cornwallis's fate. 

One who was intimate in tlie circle of 
court actors and secrets at that time says : 
— I dined that day at Lord George's, and 
altliough the information which liad 
reached London in the course of tlie morn- 
ing from France, as well as from the offi- 
cial report, was of a nature not to admit of 
long concealment, yet it had not been 
communicated to me or any otlier individ- 
ual of tlie company when I got to Fall 
Mall, between five and six o'clock. Lord 
Walsingliam, who also dined there, was 
then tlie only person, except Lord George, 
officially knowing to the fact. The part}', 
nine in number, sat down to the table. I 
thought the master of the house ajjpeared 
serious, though he manifested no discom- 
jjosure. Before dinner was over, a letter 
was brought from the king, by the messen- 
ger who had been dispatched to him with 
the startling intelligence. Lord Walsing- 
ham simply indulged in the observation : 
"The king writes just as he always does, 
excejjt that I perceive he has neglected to 
mark the hour .and minute of his writing 
with his usual precision." This remark, 
though calculated to awaken some interest, 
excited no comment; and while the ladies, 
Lord George's three daughters, remained 
in the room, all manifestation of curiosity 
was repressed. But they had no sooner 
withdrawn, than Lord George having com- 
municated the fact that information had 
just arrived from Paris of the old Count 
Maurepas, first minister of the French 
cabinet, lying at the point of death, the 
remark was made by one of the party — 

" It woidd grieve me to finish my career, 
however far advanced in years, were I first 
minister of France, before I had witnessed 
the termination of this great contest be- 
tween England and America." 

"He 7ias survived to see that event," at 
once replied Lord George Germain, with 
some agitation. 

The conversation was continued, until, 
on the more particular mention of the Vir- 



ginia campaign, the minister disclosed 
the full bearing of the intelligence he had 
received, saying — 

"The army has surrendered, and you 
may peruse the particulars of the capitula- 
tion in that paper." 

The paper was taken from his pocket, 
and read to the company. The next ques- 
tion was one of rather an obtrusive kind, 
to learn what the king thought on the 
subject. In reply to this, the minister's 
remark did the highest credit to his maj- 
esty's firmness, fortitude and consistency. 
The minister even allowed the king's bil- 
let to be read, and it was as follows: — 

' I have received, with sentiments of the 
deepest concern, the communication which 
Lord George Germain has made to me, of 
the unfortunate result of the operations to 
Virginia. I particularly lament it, on 
account of the consequences connected with 
it and the difficulties which it ma}' produce 
in carrying on the public business, or in 
repairing such a misfortune. But I trust 
that neither Lord Germain, jior any other 
member of the cabinet, will suppose that it 
makes the smallest alteration in those 
principles of my conduct, which have di- 
rected me in the past time, which will al- 
waj'S continue to animate me under every 
event, in the prosecution of the present 
contest.' 

The cabinet, strengthened by the royal 
determination, now recovered coui-age ; 
they met parliament at the appointed time, 
and fought their battle there with unusual 
vigor. Perhaps in all the annals of sena- 
torial struggle, there never was a crisis 
which more powerfully displayed the 
talents of the Commons. Burke, Fox, and 
Pitt, were at once seen pouring down the 
whole fiery torrent of declamation on the 
government. 

But at all events, the success of the 
siege of Yorktown, it is generally under- 
stood, decided the revolutionary war. 
" The infant Hercules," said Dr. Franljlin, 
"has now strangled the two serpents, that 
attacked him in his cradle." All the world 
agree that no expedition was ever better 
planned or better executed. For the 



no 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



" great glory and advantage " of Cornwal- 
lis's sulijcftion, "Washington afterwards 
ackno\vK'<lged liimself tliictly indebted to 
the French alliance. And in the proceed- 
ings of congress upon the matter, it was 
amongst other tilings: 'Resolved, that 
congress cause to be erected at Yorktown 
a marble column, adorned with emblems of 
the alliance between the United States 
and France, and inscribed with a succinct 
narrative of the siege, and cajjitulation.' 
Special thanks were also tendered by that 
body's vote, to each commander engaged 
in the siege; and to Washington were 
presented two stands of coloi'S taken frnni 
the enemy, and two i)ieces of field ordnance 
to Counts Rochambeau and de Grasse. 

The next day after the surrender was 
the Sabbath, and "Washington ordered 
special divine service in each of the brig- 
ades of the American army. He also by 
public proclamation congratulated the 
allied armies on the auspicious victory, 
awarding high praise to the officers and 
troops, both French and American, for 
their conduct during the siege, and speci- 
fying by name several of tlie generals and 
other officers who liad especially distin- 
guished themselves. All those of his army 
who were under arrest were pardoned and 
set free. 

News of this glorious victory sped like 
lightning over the land. "Washington dis- 
patched at once one of his aids, Colonel 
Til^hman, to congress, then sitting in 
Philadelphia. The swift rider dashed on 
a gallop into the citj' at midnight — the 
clatter of his horse's hoofs the only sound 
that broke the silence of the deserted 
streets, as he pressed straight for the house 
of ^[cKean, then president of congress. 
Thundering at the door as though he 
would force an entrance, he roused the 
slee|)ing president, saying, "Cornwallis is 
taken ! " The watchmen caught the words, 
and when they called " One o'clock," they 
added, "and Cornwallis is taken!" As 
the}' moved slowly on their nightly rounds, 
windows were flung open and eager coun- 
tenances were everywhere scanning the 
streets. A hum, like that of an awaken- 



ing hive, immediately pervaded the city. 
The inhabitants went jiouring into the 
streets, while shout after shout rose on the 
midnight air. The old liellman was roused 
from his slumbers, and soon the iron 
tongue of the bell at the state-house rang 
out, as of old, " Proclaim liberty- through- 
out all the land to all the inhabitants 
thereof." The da\^^^ was greeted with the 
booming of cannon ; and salvos of artillery, 
and shouts of joy, and tears of thanksgiving. 




acconi]ianicd the glad news as it traveled 
exultingly over the length and breadth of 
the land. Ever}- voice was loud in its 
praise of General Washington, and of his 
gallant ally, the Count de Rochambeau. 

It is stated as an interesting fact in the 
history of this great event and the charac- 
ter of the two chief commanders, that, on 
the d.ay after the .surrender, Cornwallis 
went in jierson to pay his respects to Gen- 
eral Washington and await hi.s orders. 
The captive chief was received with all the 
courtesy due to a gallant and unfortunate 
foe. The elegant manners, together with 
the manly, frank, and soldierly bearing of 
Cornwallis, soon made him a prime favor- 
ite at ]iead-<]uarters, and he often formed 
part of the suite of the commander-in- 
chief in his rides to inspect the leveling of 
the works j)revious to the retirement of the 
combined American and French armies 
from before Yorktown. At the grand din- 
ner given at the head-quarters to the offi- 
cers of the three armies, Washington filled 
his glass, and, after his favorite toast, 
whether in peace or war, of "All our 



I 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



Ill 



friends," gave " The British army," witli 
some complimentary remarks npon its 
chief, his proud career in arms, and his 
gallant defense of Yorktown. When it 
came to Cornwallis's turn, he prefaced his 
toast by saying that the war was virtually 
at an end, and the contending parties 
would soon embrace as friends ; there 
might be affairs of posts, but nothing on 
a more enlarged scale, as it was scarcely 



to be expected that the ministry would 
send another army to America. Then 
turning to Washington, his lordship con- 
tinued — 

" And when the illustrious part that 
your excellency has borne in this long and 
arduous contest becomes matter of history, 
fame will gather your brightest laurels 
rather from the banks of the Delaware 
than from those of the Chesapeake." 



VII. 
ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON.— 1783. 



Affecting Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in-Arros. — 
Solemn Fiirewell Audience with Congress — In Its Presence He Voluntarily Divests Himself of His 
Supreme Authority, lieturns His Victorious Sword, and Becomes a Private Citizen — History of the 
Klection of a Military Lemler. — America's Destiny in His Hanils — A)i|iointinent of George Wash- 
ington — The Army at Cambridge, Mass — He Immediately Takes Conimnnd — Is Knthusiaslically 
Greeted. — Leads Its Fortunes Seven Years — Record of His Gener«l>lii|). — ICnds the War in Tri- 
tmiph. — Scheme to Miike Him King. — Indignantly Kebukcs the Proposal — Last Heview of His 
Troops — His Strong Attachment for Tluin — Intention to Leave Public Life — Ccmgress Informed of 
this Fact — Kmbarkation from New Vork. — Ilomnge Paid Him Everywhere — Arrival at Annapo- 
lis — Proceeds to the Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial There — Pare Event in Human 
History. 



" Ilavlnj; now flnlihcd the wnrk OMiffncd me, I rrtire from the thooter nf nctlrtn, and, biddinfr an offpr tionale farewell to IhU aupitt bod7 
undtr wlio«c orden I have «n lone ncti-d, 1 licrcolTiT my coitinilulOD, and take my leave of all the employ tnenta of public life."— Wash I xo- 

lOa'a RKllUKMCtT At BEVOLL'TIONAUY LtEAPCIt. 




WASniXGTOX 

in regai'd 
ern, ami 



HAT momentous object for which the Wav of Independence was for 
si'ven long j-ears waged, under the supreme leadership of General 
Washington, having been achieved by the unconditional acknowledg- 
ment of that independence on the part of Great Britain, a cessation 
of hostilities was formally announced by congress to a rejoicing 
people. Washington's military course having thus honorably ami 
successfully terminated, he, Cincinnatus-like, sheathed his sword, 
and surrendered his high commission to that power wliich had in- 
vested him with its authority. It will, therefore, not only be appro 
priate, but of peculiar interest, to link together, in one narrative, the 
circumstances attending his appointment to the responsible office of 
commander-in-chief of the revolutionary army, and that last great 
act — the Ileturn of his Commission — in the stupendous drama of 
which lie was the central figure. 

To that sterling old patriot, John Adams, the credit of the wisdom 
of selecting Washington as military chieftain priiicipall}' belongs. 
It was a question, on the decision of which hung the fate of the rev- 
olutionary cause ; and in all parts of the country, among the people 
at large as well as in the more immediate circles of congress, by 
whom the great question was finally to be determined, the discussion 
as to who should be chosen as the nation's leader in the councils of 
swonD. ■^var and on the battle-field, was universal. ^Mr. Adams states that 
to this election, there was in congress a southern party against a north- 
a jealousy against a New England army under the command nf a 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



113 



New England general ; but whether this 
jealousy was sincere, or whether it was 
mere pride and ambition — the ambition of 
furnishing a southern general to command 
the northern army, — was a matter of 
doubt. The intention, however, was very 
visible that Colonel Washington was their 
object. 

The military ability which had been dis- 
plaj'ed, on different occasions, bj' Colonel 
Washington, were well understood, and, 
from the conspicuous positions in which 
he had thus been placed, and the saga- 
cious judgment which was known to have 
characterized him in important emergen- 
cies, he had, for a long time past, enjoyed 
a fine reputation throughout the colonies, 
as a gallant and successful officer. He was 
only in a moderate sense a partisan, in 
the difficulties and discussions which had 
arisen between his own and the mother 
country ; but, from the very first, he ex- 
hibited sufficient repugnance to any atti- 
tude of vassalage, on the part of his coun- 
trymen, to show that he would be no will- 
ing subject of coercion, should the preten- 
sions of the British be attempted to be car- 
ried out by threats, or by recourse to arms. 

When congress had assembled, Mr. 
John Adams arose in his place, and in as 
short a speech as the subject would admit 
represented the state of the colonies, the 
uncertainty in the minds of the people, 
their great expectation and anxiety, the 
distresses of the army, tlie danger of its 
dissolution, the difficulty of collecting an- 
other ; and the probability that the Brit- 
ish army would take advantage of these 
delays, march out of Boston, and spread 
desolation as far as they could go. He 
concluded with a motion, in form, that 
congress would adopt the army at Cam- 
bridge, and appoint a general ; that though 
this was not the proper time to nominate a 
general, yet as there existed reasons for 
believing this to be the greatest difficulty, 
he had no hesitation to declare that there 
was but one gentleman in his mind for 
that important office, and that was a gen- 
tleman from Virginia — one of their own 
number, and well known to them all, — a 
8 • 



gentleman whose skill and experience as an 
officer, whose independent fortune, great 
talents, and excellent general character, 
would command the approbation of all 
America, and unite the cordial exertions 
of all the colonies better than any other 
person in the Union. 

Mr. Washington, who happened to sit 
near the door, as soon as he heard this al- 
lusion to himself, with his usual modestj', 
darted into the library room. 

The subject came under debate, and 
several gentlemen declared themselves 
against the appointment of Mr. Washing- 
ton, not on account of any personal objec- 
tion against him, but because the army 
were all from New England, had a general 
of their own, appeared to be satisfied with 
him, and had proved themselves able to 
imprison the British army in Boston. 
Mr. Pendleton, of Virginia, and Mr. 
Sherman, of Connecticut, were very ex- 
plicit in declaring this opinion. Mr. 
Gushing and others more faintly expressed 
their opposition, and their fears of discon- 
tent in the army and in New England. 
j\Ir. Paine expressed a great opinion of 
General Ward, and a strong friendship 
for him, having been his classmate at col- 
lege, or, at least, his contemporary ; but 
gave no opinion on the question. The 
subject was postponed to a future day. In 
the meantime, pains were taken out of 
doors to obtain a unanimity, and the voices 
were generally so clearly in favor of Wash- 
ington, that the dissenting members were 
persuaded to withdraw their opposition, 
and ]\Ir. Washington was nominated by 
Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland, unan- 
imously elected, and the army adopted. 

His official commission was at once 
dra\\-n up and presented to him ; a copy of 
which most interesting document is given 
below : — 

"In Congress. We the delegates of the 
United Colonies of New Hampshire, Mas- 
sachusetts Bay, Rhode Island, Connecticut, 
New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, 
New Castle, Kent, and Sussex on Dela- 
ware, ISIaryland, Virginia, North Carolina, 
and South Carolina, 



114 



OUR FIRST CENTURY— 1776-1876. 



To George Washington, Usquire : 

We, reposing special trust and confi- 
dence in your patriotism, conduct, and 
fidelity, do by these presents constitute and 
appoint you to be General and Com- 
MAN'DEK-ix-CniEF of the army of the 
United Colonies, and of all the forces 
raised or to be raised by them, and of all 
others who shall voluntarily offer their 
services and join the said army for the de- 
fense of American liberty", and for repelling 
every hostile invasion thereof. And you 
are hereby invested with full power and 
authority to act as you sliall think for the 
good and welfare of the service. 

And we do hereby strictly charge and 
require all officers and soldier.s under your 
command to be obedient to your orders, 
and diligent in the exercise of their several 
duties. 

And we do also enjoin and require you 
to be careful in executing the great trust 
reposed in you, by causing strict discipline 
and order to be observed in the armj', and 
that the soldiers are dulj^ exercised and 
provided with all convenient necessaries. 

And you are to regulate your conduct in 
every respect by the rules and discipline 
of war, (as herewith given you,) and punc- 
tually to ol)serve and follow such direc- 
tions, from time to time, as you shall re- 
ceive from this or a future Congress of the 
said United Colonies, or a Committee of 
Congress for that purpose appointed. 

This commission to continue in force till 
revoked bj' this or a future Congress. 
By order of Congress. 

Joii.v Hancock, President. 
Dated, Philadelphia, June 19, 1775. 
Attest, Chakles TaoMsoy, Secretary." 

On thf second day of July, 1775, AVash- 
ington arrived in Cambridge, Massachu- 
setts, accompanied by Major-General Lee, 
his next in coniniand, and other officers, 
establishing his head-<juarters at the man- 
sion subsequently occupied by Longfellow, 
the elegant scholar and poet. At about 
nine o'clock on the morning of the next 
day, Washington, attended by a suitable 
escort, proceeded from his head-quarters to 
a great elm tree^-one of the majestic na- 



tives of the forest, — near Harvard College, 
and where the continental forces were 
drawn up in military order. Under the 
shadow of that wide-spreading tree, Wash- 
ington, moving forward a few paces, drew 
his sword as commander-in-chief of the 
American army, declaring that it should 




THE WASniNOTOK ELM, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 

never be sheathed until the liberties of his 
country were established. The record of 
iiis services is the history of the whole 
war. Joining the armj- in July, 1775, he 
compelled the British to evacuate Boston 
in March, 1776; he then followed the 
British to New York, fighting the battle 
of Long Island on the twenty-seventh of 
August, and that of White Plains on the 
twenty-eightli of October. On the twenty- 
fifth of December he made the memorable 
passage of the Delaware, and soon gained 
tlie victories of Trenton and Princeton. 
The battle of Brandywine was fought on 
the eleventh of September, 1777, and that 
of Gcrmantown, October fourth. Febru- 
ary twenty-eighth, 1778, witnessed his 
" glorious and ha]>py day," as he himself 
termed it, at Monmouth. In 1779 and 
1780 he conducted the military ojierafions 
in the vicinity of New York; after which, 
in 1781, he marched to Virginia to watch 
the movements of Lord Cornwallis, whom 
he forced to surrender at Y'orktown, in 
October, by which great achievement he 
put an end to the active operations of the 
revolutionary struggle, and secured peace 
and independence to his countrv. 

With the return of peace, and the 
achievement of independent nationality, 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



115 



the wisdom and patriotism of Washington 
were to be severely tested, and in a most 
unexpected manner, in connection with the 
form of government to be adopted by the 
United States. The English government 
was regarded by many of the strongest 
American minds as, in most respects, a 
model one ; and by many persons the En- 
glish form of a constitutional monarchy 
was decided, esjiecially by some of the 
army officers, to be the most promising, 
and thus far the most successful, experi- 
ment in government, and the one most 



this scheme called a secret meeting, and 
finally determined on the title of King, 
and Washington was informed of the fact. 
He spurned the gilded bribe of a king's 
crown, and promptly and sternly rebuked 
the abettors of the scheme in the following 
letter addressed to their leader : 

" Sir, — With a mixture of great sur- 
prise and astonishment, I have read with 
attention the sentiments you have sub- 
mitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, 
no eccurrence in the course of this war has 
given me more jiainful sensations than 




WASHINGTON'S RESIGNATION. 



likely to be adopted by America upon due 
deliberation. Universal dissatisfaction was 
felt with the proceedings and conduct of 
congress as a governing power, and there- 
fore some agency superior to that, and of 
controlling prerogative, was proposed, — a 
head, like the English sovereign, with 
proper safeguards against usurpation. 
Circumstances, of course, indicated Wash- 
ington as that head, and the next ques- 
tion naturally arose — under what official 
title should such a head rule ? The officers 
around Newburgh who were associated in 



your information of there being such ideas 
existing in the army as you have expressed, 
and which I must view with abhorrence 
and reprehend with severity. For the 
present, the communication of them will 
rest in my own bosom, unless some further 
agitation of the matter shall make a dis- 
closure necessary. I am much at a loss to 
conceive what part of my conduct could 
have given encouragement to an address 
which to me seems big with the greatest 
mischiefs that can befall my country. If 
I am not deceived in the knowledge of 



IIG 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



myself, you could not have found a person 
to whom your schemes are more disagree- 
able. At the same time, in justice to my 
own feelings, I must add, that no man 
possesses a more serious wish to see ample 
justice done to the army than I do ; and, 
as far as ra\' power and influence, in a con- 
stitutional way, extend, they shall be em- 
ploj'ed to the utmost of my abilities to 
effect it, should there be anj' occasion. 
Let me conjure you, then, if you have any 
regard for your country, concern for your- 
self or posterity, or respect for me, to 
banish these thoughts from your mind, and 
never communicate, as from yourself or 
any one else, a sentiment of the like na- 
ture." 

In perfect keeping with the spirit in 
which Washington treated the dazzling 
ofier thus so unexpectedly set before him, 
was the simplicity of his conduct in bid- 
ding adieu to his comrades-in-arms, and 
then presenting himself before congress, 
there to deliver up his sword, and volunta- 
rily divest himself of the supreme com- 
mand; — in the serene and thoughtful 
phraseology of his own words, " to address 
himself once more, and that for the last 
time, to the armies of the United States, 
however widely dispersed the individuals 
who compose them niaj- be, and to bid tliem 
an affectionate and a long farewell." 

For the last time, he assembled them at 
Newburgh, when he rode out on the field, 
and gave them one of those paternal ad- 
dresses which so eminently characterized 
his relationship with Iiis army. To the 
tune of " Roslin Castle," — the soldier's 
dirge, — his brave comrades passed slowly 
by their great leader, and filed away to their 
respective homes. It was a thrilling scene. 
There were gray-headed soldiers, who had 
grown old by hardships and exposures, and 
too old to begin life anew ; tears coursed 
freely the furrowed cheeks of these veter- 
ans. Among the thousands passing in 
review before him wore those, also, who 
had done valorous service when the destiny 
of the country hung tremblingly in the 
balance. As Washington looked upon 
them for the last time, he said, " I am 



growing old in my country's service, and 
losing my sight ; but I never doubted its 
justice or gratitude." Even on the rudest 
and roughest of the soldiery, the effect of 
his parting language was irresistible. 

On the fourth of December, 1783, by 
Washington's request, his officers, in full 
uniform, assembled in Fraunces's tavern. 
New York, to take a final leave of their 
commander-in-chief. On entering the 
room, and finding himself surrounded by 
his old companions-in-arms, who had 
shared with him so many scenes of hard- 
ship, difficulty, and danger, his agitated 
feelings overcame his usual self-command. 
Every man arose with eyes turned towards 
him. Filling a glass of wine, and lifting it 
to his lips, he rested his benignant but sad- 
dened countenance upon them, and said, — 

" With a heart full of love and grati- 
tude, I now take leave of you. I most de- 
voutly wish that j'our latter days may be 
as prosperous as your former ones have 
been honorable and glorious." Having 
drunk, he added, " I cannot come to each 
of you to take my leave, but shall be 
obliged to you, if each of you will come 
and take me by the hand." A profound 
silence followed, as each officer gazed on 
the countenance of their leader, while the 
ej-es of all were wet with tears. He then 
expressed again his desire that each of 
them should come and take him by the 
hand. The first, being nearest to him, 
was General Knox, who grasped his hand 
in silence, and both embraced each other 
without uttering a word. One after an- 
other followed, receiving and returning the 
affectionate adieu of their commander, 
after which he left the room in silence, 
followed by his officers in procession, to 
embark in the barge that was to convey 
him to Paulus's Hook, now Jersey City. 
As he was passing through the light in- 
fantry drawn up on either side to receive 
him, an old soldier, who was by his side 
on the terrible night of his march to 
Trenton, stepped out from the ranks, and 
reaching out his arms, exclaimed, "Fare- 
well, m y (lea r r/en era I, fa re well .' ' ' Wash- 
ington seized his hand most heartily, when 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



117 



the soldiers forgot all discipline, rushed 
towards their chief, and bathed him with 
their tears. The scene was like that of a 
good patriarch taking leave of his children, 
and going on a long journey, from whence 
he might return no more. 

Having entered the barge, he turned to 
the weeping company upon the wharf, and 
waving his hat, bade them a silent adieu. 
They stood with heads uncovered, until 
the barge was hidden from their view, 
when, in silent and solemn procession, they 
returned to the place where they had as- 
sembled. Congress was at this time in 
session at Annapolis, Maryland, to which 
place Washington now proceeded, greeted 
along his whole route with enthusiastic 
homage, for the purpose of formally resign- 
ing his commission. He arrived on the 
nineteenth of December, 1783, and the 
next day he informed congress of the pur- 
pose for which he had come, and requested 
to know whether it would be their pleas- 
ure that he should offer his resignation in 
writing, or at an audience. A committee 
was appointed by congress, and it was de- 
cided that on Tuesday, December twenty- 
third, the ceremonial should take place as 
follows : — 

The president and members are to be 
seated and covered, and the secretary to 
be standing by the side of the j)resident ; 
the arrival of the general to be announced 
by the messenger to the secretary, who is 
thereupon to introduce the general, at- 
tended by his aids, into the hall of con- 
gress ; the general, being conducted to a 
chair by the secretary, is to be seated, with 
an aid on each side standing, and the 
secretary is to resume his place. After a 
proper time for the arrangement of spec- 
tators, silence is to be ordered by the sec- 
retary, if necessary, and the president is to 
address the general in the following 
words : " Sir, — The United States in con- 
gress assembled are prepared to receive your 
communications." Whereupon the gen- 
eral is to arise and address congress ; after 
which he is to deliver his commission and 
a copy of his address to the president. 
The general having resumed his place, the 



president is to deliver the answer of con- 
gress, which the general is to receive 
standing; the president having finished, 
the secretary is to deliver the general a 
copy of the answer, and the general is then 
to take his leave. When the general rises 
to make his address, and also when he 
retires, he is to bow to congress, which 
they are to return by uncovering without 
bowing. 

When the hour arrived, tlie president. 
General Mifflin, informed him that that 
body was prepared to receive his commu- 
nications. With a native dignity, height- 
ened by the solemnity of the occasion, the 
general rose. In a brief and appropriate 
speech he offered his congratulations on 
the termination of the war, and having 
alluded to his object in appearing thus in 
that presence, — that he might resign into 
the hands of congress the trust committed 
to him, and claim the indulgence of retir- 
ing from the public service, — he concluded 
with those affecting words, which drew 
tears from the eyes of all in that vast as- 
sembly : 

" I consider it an indispensable duty to 
close this last act of my official life, by 
commending the interests of our dearest 
country to the protection of Almightj' 
God, and those who have the superintend- 
ence of them, to his holy keeping. Having 
now finished the work assigned me, I 
retire from the theater of action, and, 
bidding an affectionate farewell to this 
august bod}', under whose orders I have so 
long acted, I here offer my commission, 
and take my leave of all the emjiloyments 
of public life." 

After advancing to the chair, and deliv- 
ering his commission to the president, he 
returned to his place, and remained stand- 
ing, while General Mifflin replied, review- 
ing the great career thus brought to a 
close, and saying, in conclusion : 

" The glory of your virtues will not ter- 
minate with your military command; it 
will continue to animate the remotest ages. 
We join with you in commending the in- 
terests of our country to Almiglity God, 
beseeching Him to dispose the hearts and 



118 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



minds of its citizens to iniiirovo the op 
portunity afforded them of becoming 
a Iiappy and respectable nation. And 
for you, we address to Him our warm- 
est prayers, that a life so beloved may 



be fostered witli all His care, that your 
days ma}' be as happj- as they have been 
illustrious, and that He will finally give 
you that reward which this world cannot 
bestow." 



I 



VIII. 

APPOINTMENT OF THE FIRST MINISTER PLENIPOTEN- 
TIARY, FROM THE NEW REPUBLIC TO THE 
ENGLISH COURT.— 1785. 



John Adams, America's Sturdiest Patriot, and tlie Foremost Enemy of British Tyranny, Fills this 
High Office — Interview between Him and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their Addresses, 
Temper, Personal Bearing, and Hmiiorous Conversation. — The Two Men Rightly Matched Against 
Each Other. — Old Animosities Unhealed — Mutual Charges of False Dealing. — Settlement Demanded 
by the United States. — What Adams's Mission Involved — Dismemberment of the British Realm. — 
Loss of the Fairest Possession. — Bitter Pill for the King. — His Obstinacy Forced to Yield — Humilia- 
tion of the Proud Monarch. — All Europe Watches the Event. — Mr. Adams Presented at Court. — Pa- 
triot and King Face to Face. — Official Address by the Minister. — Reply of King George. — His Visi- 
ible Agitation. — Adams's Presence of Mind. — Pays His Homage to the Queen — Her Majesty's Re- 
sponse. — Civilities by the Royal Family. — Results of this Embassy. — Pitiable Position of George the 
Third. — Fatal Error of Great Britain. 



"I must avow to your m^'esty, I have no attachment but to my own country."— John Adams to Kino Georoe. 
"An honest man will have no other."— Thk Krxo's I.vstant Rei'LV. 



1^ 




O deep-seated and festering were 
the old animosities between Amer- 
ica and the mother country, that, 
scarcely had the war of the revo- 
lution terminated, when the two 
nations reciprocally charged each 
other with violating the treaty of 
- peace. The United States were 
accused of having infringed those 
articles which contained agree- 
ments respecting the payment of 
debts, the confiscation of property, 
and prosecution of individuals for the part taken by them during the wat. On the 
other hand, the English were charged with violating that article which stipulated 
against the destruction or carrying away of any description of American property; 
the king was also complained of, for still retaining possession of the posts on the 
American side of the great lakes, thus influencing the Indian tribes to hostility ; 
and, above all other sources and causes of complaint, in the conduct of Great Britain, 
was her rigorous and restrictive commercial system. 

These growing misunderstandings between the two countries, discussed with such 
angry vehemence on both sides, threatened such serious consequences should their adjust- 
ment be much longer delayed, that congress determined upon the important step of 



AMl'i']^ BETWEi:>' l^^OLAND AND AMERICA. 



120 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 






appointing, after the manner of independ- 
ent nations, a Minister J'ienijwtentiari/ to 
the court of Great Britain/ 

In February, 1785, John Adams was 
duly accredited ambassador, to represent 
the United States at that court. 

Tliat George tin- Tliird was as obstinate 
a man as ever ruled a kingdom, no histo- 
rian has ever questioned. Having struck 
at the rights and liberties of America, in 
order to add to the riches of his coffers, 
nothing could turn him from his determin- 




ation to rule, or to ruin an<l de.stroj'. To 
the suggestion that the king's rule over 
the colonies might be slightly softened or 
modified, Lord North despairingly replied : 
" It is to no purpose the making objec- 
tions, for the king will have it so." But 
in no more forcible jdirase could the king's 
arbitrary temper concerning his colonies 
be shown, that in that which fell from his 
own lips, in the presence of the new en- 
voj', namelj-, " / was the last man in the 
kingdom, sir, to consent to the independ- 
enre of America." 

Of all the opponents of British misrule, 
in the western world, John Adams was 
the earliest, ablest, most intrepid and un- 
tiring. It was John Adams, who, in 



1775, in the memorable continental con- 
gress, at Philadelphia, suggested George 
Washington as commander-in-chief of the 
army that was to wage war against Great 
Britain — and, even before this crowning 
act, had sent across the Atlantic, ringing 
into the ears of the haughty monarch, the 
epithets tyrant and usurper. 

The kingly ceremony of acknowledging 
the colonies independent took place, in con- 
formity with previous arrangements, on 
the fifth of December, 1782, in the house 
of lords. The scene was one which 
drew together an immense and won- 
dering crowd of spectators, conspicu- 
ous among whom was the celebrated 
admiral Lord Howe, who had just re- 
turned from a successful relief of 
(iibraltar, and who had now elbowed 
himself exactly in front of the throne, 
to listen, sadly, to his country's hu- 
miliation. The ladies of the nobility 
occupied the lords' seats on the wool- 
sacks, so called, as an emblem of the 
power and wealth of old England, 
because it had been mainly derived 
from wool. The lords were standing 
here and there promiscuously. It 
was a dark and foggy day, and the 
windows being elevated and con- 
structed in the antiquated style, with 
leaden bars to contain the diamond- 
cut panes of glass, augmented the 
gloom. The walls were also hung 
with dark tapestry, representing the de- 
feat of the great Spanish armada. The 
celebrated American painters, West and 
Copley, were in the throng, with some 
American ladies, also a number of dejected- 
looking American royalists. After a 
tedious suspense of nearly two hours, the 
approach of the king was announced by a 
tremendous roar of artillery. He entered 
by a small door on the left of the throne, 
and immediately seated himself in the chair 
of state, in a graceful attitude, with his 
right foot resting on a stool. He was 
clothed in the magnificent robes of British 
majesty. Evidently agitated, he drew 
slowly from his pocket a scroll containing 
his humbling speech. The commons were 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



121 



summoned, and, after the bustle of their 
entrance had subsided, the thrilling mo- 
ment arrived, when the speech was to be 
read. After some general remarks, usual 
on public occasions, he said : 

" I lost no time in giving the necessary 
orders to prohibit the further prosecution 
of offensive war upon the continent of 
North America. Adopting, as my inclin- 
ation will always lead me to do, with de- 
cision and effect, whatever I collect to be 
the sense of my parliament and my people, 
I have pointed all my views and measures, 
in Europe, as in North America, to an 
entire and cordial reconciliation with the 
colonies. Finding it indispensable to the 
attainment of this object, I did not hesi- 
tate to go to the full length of the power 
vested in me, and therefore I now declare 
them " — here he paused, in evident agita- 
tion, either embarrassed in reading his 
speech, by the darkness of the room, or 
affected by a very natural emotion, but, 
recovering himself in a moment by a 
strong convulsive movement, lie added — 
'■^ free and independent states. In thus 
admitting their separation from the crown 
of this kingdom, I have sacrificed every 
consideration of my own, to the wishes and 
opinions of my people. I make it my 
humble and ardent prayer to Almighty 
God, that Great Britain may not feel the 
evils which might result from so great a 
dismemberment of the empire, and that 
America may be free from the calamities 
which have formerly proved, in the mother 
country, how essential monarchy is to the 
enjoyment of constitutional liberty. Re- 
ligion, language, interests, and affection 
may, and I hope will, yet prove a bond of 
permanent union between the two coun- 
tries." 

It was universally remarked of King 
George, that, though celebrated for read- 
ing his speeches in a distinct, composed, 
and impressive manner, he was on this 
occasion painfully lacking in his usual 
self-possession ; he hesitated, choked, and 
executed the high but humbling duties of 
the occasion, in a manner which showed 
that he was deeply mortified. 



Mr. Adams was at Paris when he re- 
ceived information of his appointment, in 
1785, to confront his late king and royal 
master. In an account given by Mr. 
Adams himseK, of his movements at this 
time, he says : At Versailles, the Count 
de Vergennes said he had many felicita- 
tions to give me upon my appointment to 
England. I answered that I did not 
know but it merited compassion more than 
felicitation. "Ay, why?" "Because, as 
you*know, it is a species of degradation, in 
the eyes of Europe, after having been ac- 
credited to the king of France, to be sent 
to any other court." 

"But jDcrmit me to say," replies the 
count, "it is a great thing to he the first 
ambassador from, your country to the 
country you sprang from. It is a mark." 

One of the foreign ambassadors said to 
me — 

" You have been often in England." 

" Never, but once in November and De- 
cember, 1783." 

" You have relations in England, no 
doubt." 

"None at all." 

" None, how can that be ? you are of 
English extraction." 

"Neither my father or mother, grand- 
father or grandmother, great grandfather 
or great grandmother, nor any other rela- 
tion that I know of, or care a farthing for, 
has been in England these one hundred 
and fifty years ; so that you see I have not 
one drop of blood in my veins but what is 
American." 

" Ay, we have seen proof enough of 
that." 

In the month of May, Mr. Adams trans- 
ferred himself and family to the other side 
of the channel, prepared to undertake the 
new duties to which he had been ap- 
pointed. The first thing to be done was 
to go through the ceremony of presenta- 
tion to the sovereign ; to stand face to face 
with the man whom he had for the first 
forty years of his life habitually regarded 
as his master, and who never ceased to 
regard him, and the rest of his country- 
men, as no better than successful rebels 



122 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



against his legitimate authority. In his 
dispatch to Mr. Jay, then American secre- 
tary of foreign affairs, Mr. Adams gave 
the following very interesting account of 
this meeting : — 

At one o'clock on Wednesday, the first 
of June, 1785, the master of ceremonies 
called at my house, and went witli me to the 
secretary of state's office, iu Cleveland Row, 
where the Marquis of Carmarthen received 
and introduced me to Mr. Frazier, his 
under secretary, who had been, as his 



attended by the master of ceremonies, the 
room was very full of ministers of state, 
bishops, and all other sorts of courtiers, as 
well as the next room, which is the king's 
bed-chamber. You may well suj)pose I 
was the focus of all eyes. I was relieved, 
however, from the embarrassment of it, by 
the Swedish and Dutch ministers, who 
came to me and entertained me with a very 
agreeable conversation during the whole 
time. Some other gentlemen, whom I 
had seen before, came to make their com- 




FIRST UIKISTEK TO KNOLAND. RECEPTION OF JOHN ADAMS. 



lordship said, uninterruptedly in that office, 
through all the changes in administration, 
for thirty years. After a short conversa- 
tion, Lord Carniartlien invited me to go 
with him in liis coach to court. When we 
arrived in the ante-chamber, the master of 
ceremonies introduced him, and attended 
me while the secretary of state went to 
take the commands of the king. AVhile I 
stood in this place, where it seems all min- 
isters stand upon such occasions, always 



plinipnts to me, until the Marquis of Car- 
marthen returned and desired mc to go with 
him to his majesty. I went with his 
lordship through the levee room into the 
king's closet. The door was shut, and I 
■was left with his majesty and the secretary 
of state alone. I made the three rever- 
ences : one at the door, another about half- 
way, and another before the presence, 
according to the usage establi.shed at tliis 
and all the northern courts of Europe, and 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



123 



then I addressed mj^self to liis majesty in 
the following words : 

"Sire: The United States have ap- 
pointed me minister plenipotentiary to 
your majesty, and have directed me to 
deliver to your majesty this letter, which 
contains the evidence of it. It is in obe- 







/trim Jlda/rm 



dience to their express commands, that I 
have the honor to assure your majesty of 
their unanimous disposition and desire to 
cultivate the most friendly and liberal in- 
tercourse between j'our majesty's subjects 
and their citizens, and of their best wishes 
for your majesty's health and happiness, 
and for that of your family. 

The appointment of a minister from the 
United States to your majesty's court will 
form an epoch in the history of England 
and America. I think myself more fortu- 
nate than all my fellow-citizens, in having 
the distinguished honor to be the first to 
stand in your majesty's royal presence in 
a diplomatic character, and I shall esteem 
myself the happiest of men, if I can be 
instrumental in recommending my country 
more and more to your majesty's royal 
benevolence, and of restoring an entire 
esteem, confidence, and affection ; or, in 
better words, ' the old good nature and the 
good old humor,' between people who, 
though separated by an ocean, and under 
different governments, have the same lan- 
guage, a similar religion, a kindred blood. 
I beg your majesty's permission to add, 



that, although I have sometimes before 
been instructed by my country, it was 
never in my whole life in a manner so 
agreeable to myself." 

The king listened to every word I said, 
with dignity, it is true, but with apparent 
emotion. Whether it was my visible agi- 
tation, for I felt more than I could ex- 
press, that touched him, I cannot say; 
but he was much affected, and answered 
me with more tremor than I had spoken 
with, and said — 

" Sir : The circumstances of this audi- 
ence are so extraordinary, the language 
you have now held is so extremely proper, 
and the feelings you have discovered so 
justly adapted to the occasion, that I not 
only receive with pleasure the assurance 
of the friendly disposition of the United 
States, but I am glad the choice has fallen 
upon you to be their minister. I wish you, 
sir, to believe, that it may be understood 
in America, that I have done nothing in 
the late contest but what I thought myself 
indispensably bound to do, by the duty 
which 1 owed my people. I will be frank 
with you. I was the last to conform to 
the separation ; but the separation having 
become inevitable, I have always said, as I 
now say, that I would be the first to meet 
the friendship of the United States as an 
independent power. The moment I see 
such sentiments and language as yours pre- 
vail, and a disposition to give this country 
the preference, that moment I shall say, let 
the circumstances of language, religion, 
and blood, have their natural, full effect." 

The king then asked me whether I came 
last from France; upon my answering in the 
affirmative, he put on an air of familiarity, 
and, smiling, or rather laughing, said — 

" There is an opinion among some peojjle 
that you are not the most attached of all 
your countrymen to the manners of 
France." 

" That opinion, sir, is not mistaken ; / 
must avow to your majesty, I have 710 at- 
tachment but to my own country." 

The king replied as quick as lightning — 

"An honest man will have no other." 

The king then said a word or two to the 



124 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



secretary of state, which, being between 
them, I did not hear, and then turned 
round and bowed to me, as is customary 
witli all kings and princes when the}- give 
the signal to retire. I retreated, stepping 
backwards, as is the etiquette, and making 
m J- last reverence at the door of the chamber. 

Mr. Adams was yet to pay his first 
court of homage to the queen. He was 
presented to her on the ninth of June, by 
Lord Allesbury, her lord-chaniberlain, — 
having first been attended to his lordship 
and introduced to him by the master of 
the ceremonies. The quoen was accompa- 
nied by her ladies-in-waiting, and Mr. 
Adams made his compliments to her maj- 
esty in the following words : 

" Madam, — Among the many circum- 
stances which have rendered my mission 
to his majesty desirable to me, I have ever 
considered it a principal one, that I should 
have an opportunity of paying my court 
to a great queen, whose royal virtues and 
talents have ever been acknowledged and 
admired in America, as well as in all the 
nations of Europe, as an example to prin- 
cesses and the glory of her sex. 

Permit me, madam, to recommend to 
your majesty's royal goodness a rising em- 
pire and an infant virgin world. 

Another Europe, madam, is rising in 
America. To a philosophical mind, like 
your majesty's, there cannot be a more 
pleasing contemplation, than the prospect 
of doubling the human species, and aug- 
menting, at the same time, their prosperity 
and happiness. It will, in future ages, be 
the glory of these kingdoms to have peo- 
pled that country, and to have sown there 
those seeds of science, of liberty, of virtue, 
and permit me, madam, to add, of piety, 
which alone constitute the prosperity of na- 
tions and the happiness of the human race. 

After venturing upon such high insinu- 
ations to your mujestj', it seems to be de- 
scending too far, to ask, as I do, your 
majesty's royal in<lulgence to a person who 
is indeed unqualified for courts, and who 
owes his elevation to this distinguished 
honor of standing before your majesty-, not 
to any circumstances of illustrious birth. 



fortune, or abilities, but merely to an 
ardent devotion to his native country, and 
some little industry' and perseverance in 
her service." 

To this address of Mr. Adams, the 
queen answered, in the accustomed roj'al 
brevity, as follows : 

" I thank you, sir, for 3'our civilities to 
mc and my family, and am glad to see 
you in this country." 

The queen then asked Mr. Adams if he 
liad provided himself with a house, to 
which question answer was made that he 
had agreed for one that morning. She 
then made her courtesy, and the envoy 
made his reverence, retiring at once into 
the drawing-room, where the king, queen, 
princess royal, and the younger princess, 
her sister, all spoke to the new minister 
very courteously. 

But, notwithstanding the memorable 
historical bearings of this mission of the 
great American statesman, as first ambas- 
sador of the new-born republic, to his late 
august sovereign, — a mission which riveted 
the attention of the civilized world, — and 
although George the Third had submitted 
with dignity to tlie painful necessity of such 
a meeting, the embassj' w<as attended with 
no permanently favorable result either to 
America or to Mr. Adams. Indeed, of the 
many humiliations which befell the un- 
happy George, perhaps few were felt so 
bitterly as this almost compulsory inter- 
view with the re]iresentative of a i)eoj)le, 
once his subjects, afterwards rebels, and 
now free. Well and truthfully has the 
liistorian said, that, in the conduct of the 
king, on this occasion, the obvious wisdom 
of conciliating the young and rising nation 
on the western side of the Atlantic was 
forgotten, and the error of supercilious 
neglect was preferred. Throughout the 
whole political history of Great Ifritain 
this marked fault may be tracked in its 
reltitions with foreign nations, but it never 
showed itself in more striking colors than 
during the first half century after the in- 
(lejiendence of the United States. The 
effects of the mistake then committed have 
been perceptible ever since. 



IX. 



FIRST ORGANIZED REBELLION IN THE UNITED 

STATES.— 1786. 



Daniel Shays, at the Head of an Armed and Desperate Force, Boldly Defies the State and Federal 
Laws in Massachusetts — " Taxation and Tyranny" the Alleged Grierances. — Alarming Disaffection 
Throughout all New England. — Bad Leaders and Furious Mobs. — Rout of the Insurgents, by General 
Lincoln, in the Dead of Winter. — Patriotic Old Massachusetts in a Ferment. — Causes of Public Dis- 
content. — Total Exhaustion of Credit. — Prostration of Trade. — Ruinous Debts, Heavy Taxation. — 
Weakness of the Government. — An Excited Populace. — Turbulence and Lawlessness. — All Authority 

Spurned. — A Bloody Conflict Invited — Courts of Justice 
Broken Up. — Indignation of Washington. — Heroism on 
the Bench. — The National Forces Augmented. — Fears 
of a General Civil War — Unscrupulousness of Shays. — 
Intention to Seize the Capital. — Governor Bowdoin's De- 
fenses. — General Lincoln in Command. — Active Move- 
ment of His Troops. — A Terrible Snow-Storm. — Hard- 
ships of Shays's Army. — Federal Bayonets Triumphant. 




" Sire, I shall Bit here as a judge, or die here as a generall"— Rbplt or 
General Cobb, a ilASSACHUSEXTs Jodge, to a Summons to Dissolve 

UlS COUBT. 



SCliXE IN SHAYS'S REBELLION. 



NE of the most noteworthy facts in the history 
of the early period — the first decade — of the 
American Republic, is, that in the state of Mas- 
sachusetts, the state which had been foremost in 
CI the war of independence against Great Britain, 
occurred the first instance of armed and organ- 
ized rebellion against the situation and conduct 
of public affairs consequent upon the changed character of the government and its 
administrators. It will be necessary, however, not only in behalf of the consistency 
of popular government, but as vindicating the patriotic old commonwealth in question 
from any imputation of lawless proclivities, to narrate, first, some of the peculiar cir- 
cumstances which brought distress to a large class of citizens, and provoked political 
discontent, finally culminating in blood}' sedition. 

For a considerable period after the people of the United States had secured peace, 
through British acknowledgment of their independence, was the exhausting effect felt 
by them, of their exertions in so hard-fought and prolonged a contest. The popular 
enthusiasm, excited hj a victorious termination of the struggle, began to subside, and 
the sacrifices of the revolution soon became knovm and felt. The claims of those who 
toiled, and fought, and suffered in the arduous contest, were strongly urged, and the 
government had neither resources nor power to satisfy or to silence them. The wealth 



126 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



of the country had been totally exhausted 
during the revolution, and, worse than all, 
the public credit had become so shaken 
and prostrated as to bo a mere by-word, 
at home and abroad, no matter what might 
be the pleilges of security proffered. Ta.xes 
could not be collected, because — even if for 
no other reason, — there was no money to 
represent the value of the little personal 
property wliiili had not been, and the hind 
which could not be, destroyed ; and com- 
merce, though preparing to burst from its 
thraldom, had not yet had time to restore 
to the annual i)roduce of the country its ex- 
changeable value. The states owed each a 
heavy debt for local services rendered 
during the revolution, for which it was 
bound to provide, and each had its own 
domestic government to sui>poit. 

The causes of discontent which tlius ex- 
isted after the restoration of peace, in 
every part of the Union, were perhaps no- 
where more operative than in New En- 
gland, growing out of the following circum- 
stances : The great exertions which had 
been put fortli by those states in the course 
of the war, had accumulated a mass of 
debt, the taxes for the payment of which 
were felt as peculiarly burdensome, be- 
cause the fisheries of this people had be- 
come so unproductive. This important 
branch of industry, which, before the revo- 
lutionary war, had in some measure com- 
pensated for the want of those rich staples 
that were possessed by the middle and 
southern colonies, had been unavoidably 
neglected during the struggle for inde- 
pendence ; and, as a consequence of that 
independence, had not only been deprived 
of the encouragements under which it had 
flourished, but its produce was excluded 
from markets which had formerly been 
opened to it. The restlessness produced 
by the uneasy situation of individuals, to- 
gether with lax notions concerning public 
and private faith, and erroneous opinions, 
tended to confound lil)erty with an cxemj)- 
tion from legal control. 

This turbulent si)irit was carried out 
and encouraged, with great effect upon the 
minds of the populace, by public conven- 



tions, wliich, after voting their own con- 
etitutionality, and assuming the name and 
authority of the people, arrayed themselves 
against the regular legislative power, and 
declared in the most exciting language the 
grievances by which they alleged them- 
selves to be oppressed. 

Reckless and desperate, a hotly of ni.il- 
contents entered the legislative chamber 
at Exeter, New Hampshire, and deliber- 
ately overpowered and made prisoners the 
general assembly of the state ; the citizens, 
however, rose and crushed the movement 
in a few hours. 

But the center of this spirit of lawless 
violence throughout New England, culmin- 
ated in 1786, in the state of Massachu- 
setts, where, on account of the calamitous 
interruption of the regular trades and oc- 
cupations, on land and sea, a vast number 
of the male population, principally j'oung 
men, became impoverished, an<l were 
thrown upon society. The general court, 
or legislature, of Massachusetts, had found 
it necessary to impose taxes which, perhaps, 
in any case would have been ill-received, 
but which, in tlie existing state of feeling 
and social disorganization, led to general 
resistance and open rebellion. The di.s- 
contented, led on by ambitious and un- 
principled leaders, provided themselves 
with arms of every description ; they had 
seen the country free itself from the tyr- 
anny of Britain by these means, and now 
they were about to try the same against 
what they considered the tyranny of their 
own government. Things continued to go 
on in this way for some time, when, the 
number of the malcontents becoming so 
large and formidable, tile militia were 
called out to protect the sittings of the 
courts, which it was the object of the in- 
surgents to prevent ; and so conciliatory 
and considerate was the government, that 
their grievances were made the subject of 
repeated and anxious counsel, and as much 
as possible redressed. Bills were passed 
for diminishing legal costs, law charges 
being at that time enormous ; and" for al- 
lowing the payment of taxes and private 
debts in specific articles instead of coin. 



GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



127 




of wliicli latter there was scarce- 
ly any in circulation ; as well as 
for applying certain revenues, 
formerly devoted to other pur- 
jjoses, to the payment of govern- 
mental dues. So far were con- 
cessions made ; still the agitation contin- 
ued, and the habeas corpus act was sus- 
pended for eight months. Nevertheless, 
though every preparation was thus made to 
secure protection to the government, full 
pardon for past offenses was promised to 
all, if they would cease from their illegal 
agitations. 

Doubtless, but for the daring and des- 
peration of one man, Daniel Shays, order 
would have been restored. 

Great anxiety filled the minds of the 
patriotic statesmen throughout the coun- 
try, at this state of anarchy ; and from 
the bosom of Washington, in especial, 
there went forth utterances of profound 
indignation and alarm. "For God's sake 
tell me," said he in a letter to Colonel 
Humiihreys, " what is the cause of all 
these commotions ? do they proceed from 
licentiousness, British influence dissemin- 
ated by the tories, or real grievances 
which admit of redress ? if the latter, why 
was redress delayed until the public mind 
had become so much agitated ? if the 



former, why 

are not the 3 

powers of 

government %^ 

triedatonce? #5^=,- 

it is as well ^2?-' 

to be with- ^^ ,,,- ^,:^ | 

out as not to shats's forces in massachpsetts. 

e.xercise them. Commotions of this sort, 
like snowballs, gather strength as they 
roll, if there is no opposition in the way to 
divide and crumble them." Such was 
Washington's horror of this Massachusetts 
tumult. 

Colonel Humphreys, while acknowledg- 
ing his inability to give any adequate ex- 
planation of the cause and origin of the 
difficulties, j-et gave it as his opinion that 
they were attributable to all the three 
causes which Washington had suggested 
— that, in Massachusetts particularly-, 
there were a few real grievances, and also 
some wicked agents or emissaries who 
made it their business to magnify every 
existing evil, and to foment causeless jeal- 



128 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ousies and commotions. Under the influ- 
ence of such exanipli's, it was plain to see 
that there had become prevalent among 
many of the people a licentious spirit, a 
leveling principle, a desire of change, and 
a wish to annihilate all debts, both public 
and private. 

The force of this party throughout New 
England was computed at twelve or fifteen 
thousand men, chiefly of the young and 
active part of the community, who were 
more easily collected than kept together. 
Many of these were desperate and unprin- 
cipled, opposed to all good government and 
legal discipline, and consequently ready, 
when any demagogue should light the 
spark of violence, to commit overt acts of 
treason and l>ring on a bloody civil war. 
This state of things alarmed greatly the 
friends of law and order, and made them 
firm in the conviction that there needed to 
be established, above all thins: 





nient for the people of the United States, 
wliid) should have the power to protect 
them in their lawful pursuits, and which 
would be efficient in cases of internal 
commotions, or foreign invasions, — a gov- 
ernment resting upon liberty, and regu- 
lated by laws firmly administered. 

The mob sjiirit grew more and more 
rampant in ]Massa<liusotts, and. in spite 
of the vigilance which the authorities now 
put forth, generally succeeded in its demon- 
strations of violence, and in thwarting the 
plans of that faithful and energetic diief 
magistrate. Governor Bowdoin. In one 



instance, however, at least, their proceed- 
ings in this respect were summarily 
brought to a stand. This was in the town 
of Taunton, where Judge Cobb, formerly 
an officer under Washington, and still one 
of the state-militia generals, was holding 
a court session at the time. On the ar- 
rival of the insurgents at the court-house, 
General Cobb promptly confronted them, 
and, after exhorting them to render that 
obedience to the laws which is binding 
on every citizen, emphatically declared to 
them, " Sirs ! I shall sit here as a judge, 
or die here as a general! " Knowing him 
to be a man who knew his rights and 
would maintain them at any cost, the mob, 
though more numerous than the force that 
General Cobb could summon, concluded 
that the safest course for them to pursue 
was to disperse. 

Ostensiblj' on account of the danger 
which threatened the frontiers, but really, 
it would seem, with a view to the sit- 
uation of affairs in Massachusetts, 
congress had agreed to augment the 
military establisliment to a much 
larger and more effective standard, 
and had detached the secretary of 
war, General Knox, to the eastward, 
with direi-tions to concert measures 
with the government of the state for 
the safety of the public arsenals. So 
unfavorable, indeed, was the aspect of 
affairs, that fears were seriously en- 
tertained that the torch of civil dis- 
cord, about to be lighted up in Massa- 
chusetts, would communicate its flame 
to all New England, and perha]is spread 
the conflagration througliout the Union. 

A few of the agitators having, at Iciigth, 
been seized and lodged in Boston jail, — 
the details of which will be found more 
particularly narrated on a subsequent jiage, 
— the exasperation of their associates was 
greatly increased, and in a short time they 
organized themselves as an armed force, 
under the command of Daniel Shays, Luke 
jDay, and Eli Parsons ; but some little 
time elajised before the state was fully 
prepared to show its military power, 
though the riotous interference witli tlie 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



129 



courts of justice was repeatedly enacted. 
In the account of these proceedings given 
by that excellent and most reliable histo- 
rian, Mr. Lossing, it is stated that, while 
the legislature was in session, early in 
November, there were indications that an 
attempt would be made to interfere with 
the sittings of the supreme court about to 
be held in Middlesex county'. General 
Brooks, a gallant officer of the revolution, 
in command of the militia of that district, 
was ordered to have a strong force in 
readiness to march to Cambridge if neces- 
sary. Among those summoned, and held 
in readiness, were three regiments and 
four artillery companies of Middlesex 
county, and one company of infantry and 
one of artillery, in Boston. This formida- 
ble display made the Middlesex malcon- 
tents invisible and silent at that time. 
Brooks was a fine officer, and had showed 
himself a gallant adherent of the com- 
mander-in-chief during the conspiracy or 
mutiny which took place in Newburgh 
camp at the close of the revolutionary war. 
Washington requested him to keep his 
officers within quarters, that they might 
not attend the insurgent meeting, his reply 
was — 

" Sir, I have anticipated your wishes, 
and my orders are given." 

" Colonel Brooks, this is just what I ex- 
pected from you," was the reply of the 
chieftain, as he took the gallant colonel by 
the hand. 

The legislature adjourned after a session 
of six weeks. Their dispersion was the 
signal for greater activity on the part of 
the insurgents. They held several meet- 
ings in the western counties, and severely 
censured the measures recently adopted by 
the legislature. They resolved, by acclam- 
ation, to resist the execution of the laws 
of the state ; and e\erywhere, among un- 
principled men, the most lawless and 
alarming spirit was manifested. The len- 
iency of the governor was called cowardice. 
The acts of the legislature were denounced 
as instruments of tyranny. The people 
were excited by inflammatory appeals. 
They were incited to acts of violence, and 
9 



the courts of justice were again interfered 
with. Toward the close of November, the 
sitting of the general court of sessions at 
Worcester was prevented by an armed 
mob, who, taught by demagogues, and be- 
lieving that they owed no other obedience 
to government but in so far as they might 
approve its measures, declared that they 
had the right, if they chose, to dispense 
with all laws which were obnoxious to 
them, and that they intended to set the 
state authorities at defiance. In Hamp- 
shire and Middlesex counties, similar bold 
demonstrations were made. Governor 
Bowdoin perceived that the time for ar- 
gument and persuasion was at an end, and 
that the safety of the commonwealth, now 
really in danger, must be secured by ener- 
getic measures. He accordingly issued a 
general order for the major-generals 
throughout the state to see that the mili- 
tia, under their respective commands, were 
equipped, and ready to respond to any 
sudden demand for their services. This 
order inflamed tlie leaders of the malcon- 
tents and their deluded followers, and the 
insurrection now began to assume the 
alarming form of a rebellion. The leaders, 
expecting severe punishment in the event 
of failure, became desperate, and were 
ready to employ desperate measures for 
the accomplishment of their wicked 
scheme. They also hoped to secure a suf- 
ficient number of adherents or defenders 
to procure the governor's pardon in the 
event of their failure. They were doomed 
to be disappointed. 

In December, a large number of the in- 
surgents assembled at Concord, expecting 
to be joined by others from Bristol, Wor- 
cester, and Hampshire counties. Their 
object was to prevent the sitting of the 
court at Cambridge, the dictation of meas- 
ures to the governor, and the suspen- 
sion, for a time at least, of the usual proc- 
esses of law. It is evident, that, wliile 
these objects were acknowledged, they in- 
tended, if possible, to seize the capital, 
take possession of the archives, and pro- 
claim a provisional government. But the 
project failed, and three of the leading 



1 



130 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S7C. 



traitors of Middlesex soon found them- 
selves within the walls of a Boston jail. 
Tlio sheriff, in the execution of his war- 
rant for tlu'ir arrest, was aecomi-anied l>y 
a nuiiilnr "f influential gentlemen and a 
company of Boston cavalry, who v.ilun- 
teered their services. 

Shays and his followers, desperate but 
determined,— for success or utter ruin was 
the alternative presented,— turned their 
faces westward, and marched upon Spring- 
field for the purpose of interfering with 
the sitting of the court appointed for the 
twenty-sixth of December, and, if strong 
enough, to seize the continental arsenal at 
that place. They arrived there on the 
twenty-fifth, took possession of the court- 
house, and presented to the judges a writ- 
ten declaration that the (.'m-t slmuld not 
transact business. The powerless judges 
were compelU'd to submit. 

Finding that the U-nieut measures which 
had thus far been taken by the legislature 
to sululue the violence uf the insurgents 
only enlarged their demands, — that the 
pardon proffered to those who would re- 
turn to their <luty was rejected with scorn, 
—that the conciliating efforts of govern- 
ment only increased their audacity, — and 
that they were proceeding with more and 
more energy to marshal their military 
forces for an aggressive movement, — (Jov- 
ernor Bowdoin, who bad probably l>eeii 
restrained by the temper of the house of 
representatives from an earlier resort to 
the final extremity, at length determined, 
with the advice of council, on a vigorous 
exertion of all the powers he possessed, 
for the protection and defense of the com- 
monwealth. U|)wanls of four thousand 
militia were ordereil into service, and were 
phiii'd umler the coiiimand of the veteran 
General Lincoln, wliose gallant military 
reputation, and wcll-balanceil judgment, 
rendered liiin dmilily capacitated for so 
critical and imi)ortant a trust. 

It was in the deiith of an unusually se- 
vere winter, and which caused bitter s>if- 
fcring, that the troops thus raised in the 
eastern part of the state assembleil near 
Boston, and marched towards the scene of 



action. Those from the western counties 
met in arms under General Shejiard, an 
oflfiecr who had served with honor during 
the war of the revolution, and took close 
possession of the federal arsenal at Spring- 




^y'2^Z^^l 



field. Before the arrival of Limoln, a party 
of the insurgents presented themselves 
before the arsenal and demanded its sur- 
render. Attempting to carry out their 
demand. General Shepard, after warning 
and entreating them to retire, fired n])on 
them. The iirst discharge was over their 
heads- they took no notice of it. Tlie sec- 
ond was into the ranks; a cry of "Mur- 
der!" arose, and all fled in confusion, 
leavin" three men dead on the field and 
one wounded. Urging his march with the 
utmost celerity, Lincoln soon came uji, and 
pressing the insurgent army, endeavored 
by a succession of rapid movements, in 
which the ardor of his troops triumphed 
over the extreme severity of the season, to 
disperse or bring it to action. But the 
insurgents fled to Pelham, wlure they 
posted themselves upon two hills, ren.lere<l 
almost inaccessible by the great fall of 
snow. They used all their address to pro- 
duce a suspension of hostilities until an 
accommodation might be negotiated with 
the legisliiture,— believing, as fliey did, 
that, if they could keep up their intbwnce 
until another choice of legislature an<l gov- 
ernor came around, matters might be 
mobled to their liking. Shays now of- 
fered to l.ay down his arms on condition of 
general pardon, which Lincoln, however, 
was not empowereil to grant. At length, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



131 



sorely pressed for food, a sudden retreat 
was made to Petersham. Discovering 
this, Lincoln set off at six in the evening, 
and marching all night, forty miles, 
through intense cold and a driving storm, 



reached Petersham by daybreak, to the 
astonishment of the rebels, who had not 
the least idea of this movement, and ac- 
cordingly fled in dismay or were taken 
prisoners. 



1 



FORMATION AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CONSTI- 
TUTION.— 1787. 



The United States no Longer a People Witl.out a Government.-Establishmcnt of the Kepubhc on a 
Permanent Foundation of Unity, Organic Law and National Polity.-Dignity, Learning, and Elo- 
quence of the Delegates-Sublime Scene on Signing the Instrument.-Extraordinary Character of 
the Whole Transaction.-State of Things After the War-Financial Embarrassment -Despondency 
of the People.-Grave Crisis in Public Affairs.-A Grand Movement Initiated —Plan of Government 
to be Framed.-All the States in Convention -Washington Chosen to Preside.-Stalesmen and Sages 
in Council.-The Old Compact Abrogated.-Xcw Basis of Union Proposed.-Various Schemes D.s- 
cussed.-Jealousy of the Smaller States.-Angry Debates, Sectional Threats -Bad Prospects of the 
Convention.-Its Dissolution Imminent -Franklin's Impressive Appeal -Compromise and Coneiha- 
tion.-Final System Agreed Upon.-Patriotisra Rules all Ilearts.-Ualification by the States-Na- 
tional Joy at the Decision. 



•• Should Ihc .talc, reject tl.i. excelleal Con.lllution. the prahabilily i. ll.at .n opportunity will t.ever a~<\n bo offered to canrcl .Doth.r In 
pemce-lbe ncit wW be drmcn m blood."-REi«AicE or Wasimkoton ok S.ojijo tui Co.HSliri'Tlo.-.. 




V.-^ 



ENKOLLIXO TUE CONSTITCTIOS. 



HOUGH the close of the 
war of i ii il o p e n d e n c e 
resulted in the estaldish- 
nicnt of a free iiatioiial- 
itv. it nevertheless 
lirought anxious solici- 
tude to every patriot's 
mind, and this state of 
apprehension and disqui- 
etude increased with each 
succeeding year. Tin- 
state dehts which had 



been incni-re<l in anticipation of prosperous times, operated severely, after a while, on 
all classes in the coinmunitv ; to meet the paj-ment of these debts, at maturity, was 
impossible, and everv relief-act only a.lded to the difficulty. This, and kindre.l 
troubles, financial and governmental, impressed the people with the gloomy conviction 
that the great work of independence, as contemplated in the revolutionary struggle, 
was only half done. It was felt that, above all things, a definite and organic form 
of government— reflecting the will (,f the people— should be fi.xed upon, to give energy 
to national i)ower, and success to individual and public enterprise. So portentous a 
crisis as this formed another epoch for the display of the intellectual and political 
attainments of American statesmen, and the ordeal was one through which they passed 
with the highest honor, and with ever-enduring fame, at home and abroad. New men 
appeared on the stage of legislative council and action, and it was found that the quan- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



133 



tity of talent and information necessary in 
the formation period of a new republic 
had greatly increased in the various states. 
But, in especial, the great minds that 
achieved the revolution beheld with deep 
concern their country impoverished and 
distracted at home, and of no considera- 
tion among the family of nations. 

A change was now to be wrought, the 
grandeur of which would be acknowledged 
throughout all lands, and its importance 
reach forward to the setting of the sun of 
time. The same hall which had resounded 
with words of patriotic defiance that shook 
the throne of King George and proclaimed 
to an astonished world the Declaration of 
Independence, — that same hall in which 
congress had continued to sit during the 
greater part of the momentous period in- 
tervening,— in the state house at Phila- 
delphia, was soon to witness the assem- 
bling of such a body of men as, in point of 
intellectual talent, personal integrity, and 
lofty purpose, had perhaps never before 
been brought together. The curious stu- 
dent of this page in modern history has 
sometimes jjlausibly but .speciously attrib- 
uted to mere chance — instead of to that 
Providence which rules in the affairs of 
men — this timely and grand event. Thus, 
General Washington, having contemplated 
with great interest a plan for uniting the 
Potomac and the Ohio rivers, and by this 
means connecting the eastern and western 
waters, made a journey of six hundred and 
eighty miles on horseback, taking minute 
notes of everything which could be subserv- 
ient to this project. His influence, and 
the real importance pf the design, induced 
the legislatures of Virginia and Maryland 
to send commissioners to Alexandria to 
deliberate on the subject. They met in 
March, 1785, and having spent some time 
at Mount Vernon, determined to recom- 
mend another commission, which might 
establish a general tariff on imports. The 
Virginia legislature not only agreed, but 
invited the other states to send deputies 
to meet at Annapolis. In September, 
1786, they had arrived from five only, and 
with too limited powers. A number of 



able statesmen, however, were thus assem- 
bled, who, feeling deeply the depressed 
and distracted state of the countrj', became 
sensible that something on a much greater 
scale was necessary to raise her to pros- 
perity, and give her a due place among 
the nations. They therefore drew up a 
report and address to all the states, 
strongly representing the inefficiency of 
the present federal government, and earn- 
estly urging them to send delegates to 
meet at Philadelphia in May, 1787. Con- 
gress responded to this proceeding in Feb- 
ruary, by the passage of resolutions rec- 
ommending the proposed measure, — but of 
which, perhaps, they did not then contem- 
plate all the momentous results. 

On the day appointed for the meeting 
of the convention. May fourteenth, 1787, 
only a small number of the delegates had 
arrived in Philadelphia. The delibera- 
tions did not commence, therefore, until 
May twenty-fifth, when there were pres- 
ent twenty-nirfe members, representing 
nine states. Others soon after came in, 
till the whole number amounted to fifty- 
five. Never, perhaps, had any body of 
men combined for so great a purpose — to 
form a constitution which was to rule so 
numerous a people, and probably during 
so many generations. The members, con- 
sisting of the very ablest men in America, 
were not unworthy of, nor unequal to, so 
high a trust. 

Towering above all these men of might, 
in his world-wide fame and in the genius 
of his personal ascendency, was Washing- 
ton, intrusted by the commonwealth of 
Virginia with the work of cementing to- 
gether the sisterhood of states in one in- 
dissoluble bond of mutual interest, co-ope- 
ration, and renown. And there was Rufus 
King, from Massachusetts, 3-oung in years, 
but mature in wisdom and brilliant in ora- 
tory ; Langdon, from New Hampshire, 
strong in his understanding and readily 
mastering the most intricate details ; El- 
bridge Gerry, of Massachusetts, exhibiting 
the utmost zeal and fidelity in the per- 
formance of his official duties; Caleb 
Strong, from the same state, plain in his 



134 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




CONTESTIOJf AT PHILADELPHIA, 1787. 



appearance, but calm, firm, intelligent, and 
well-balanced ; Ellsworth, from Connecti- 
cut, elegant in his manners, and distin- 
guished for his energy of mind, clear 
reasoning powers, and effective eloquence ; 
Sherman, his colleague, a statesman and 
jurist whose fame has extended far beyond 
the western world; Hamilton, from New 
York, spare and fragile in person, but 
keen, active, laborious, transcendent in 
his abilities and of unsullied integrity; 
Livingston, from New Jersey, of scholarly 
tastes, uncompromisingly republican in his 
politics, and fearless in the expression of 
his opinions; Franklin, from Pennsylvania, 
one of the profoundest i)hilosopher8 in tlio 
world, and, tliough now rising of four- 
score years, capable of grasping and throw- 
ing light upon the most recondite ques- 
tions relating to the science of govern- 
ment; Robert !Morris, from Pennsylvania, 
the great financier, of whom it has been 
said, and with much truth, that 'the 
Americans owed, and still owe, as much 
acknowledgment to the financial operations 
of Robert Morris, as to the negotiations of 



Benjamin Franklin, or even to the arms 
of George ^Yashington ; ' Gouverneur 
JMorris, from the same state, cons{)icuous 
for his accomplishments in learning, liis 
fluent conversation, and sterling abilities 
in deb.ate; Clymcr, distinguished among 
the sons of I'ennsylvania, as one of the 
first to raise a defiant voice against the 
arbitrary a<'t8 of tlie mother country; 
Mifflin, another delegate from the land of 
Penn, ardent almost beyond discretion, in 
zeal for his countrj-'s rights and liberties; 
Dickinson, from New Jersey, a patriot, 
wlio, though the only member of the con- 
tinental congress opposed to the Declara- 
tion of Independence, on the ground of its 
being premature, was nevertheless the only 
member of that body who immediately 
shouldered his musket and went forth to 
face the enemy ; "\Yythc, from Yirginia, 
wise, grave, deeply versed in the law, and 
undaunted in the defense of liberty for the 
the peo])le; JIadison, also from Virginia, 
talented, thoughtful, penetrating, one of 
the brightest ornaments of his state and 
nation; Martin, from Maryland, a jurist 



GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



135 



of vast attainments and commanding 
powers ; Davie, from Nortli Carolina, of 
splendid physique, one of the master-minds 
of the country ; Rutledge, from South Car- 
ol ina> pronounced by Washington to be 
the finest orator in the continental con- 
gre-s; Pinckney, from the same state, 
a soldier and lawyer of unrivaled abili- 
ties; — and thus the record might go on, 
until it embraced all the names of this 
eminent assemblage of America's ncblest 
patriots and most illustrious historic char- 
acters, " all, all, honorable men." 

On proceeding with the organization of 
the convention, George Washington was 
nominated by Robert Morris to preside 
over its deliberations, and was unanimous!}' 
elected. The standing rules were then 
adopted, one of these being that nothing 
spoken in the house be printed or other- 
wise published, or made known in any 
manner, without special permission. And 
in this connection, the following little epi- 
sode, which has come to light, will doubt- 
less be read as a refreshing reminiscence 
of the "secret" doings among those grave 
old worthies : 

One of the members of the Georgia del- 
egation was Mr. , a gentleman, the 

zeal of whose legislative mind and efforts 
sometimes quite ate up his attention to 
mere extraneous matters. Like all the 
rest of his associates in the assembly, he 
had been furnished with a schedule of the 
principal points of debate, or subjects of 
consideration, which were to be brought 
before the convention as constituting its 
business, and, in accordance with the par- 
liamentary usage of secrecy, this pro- 
gramme of the convention's duties and 
deliberations was with especial care to be 
kept from disclosure during the period of 
its sittings. It happened, however, that 
one of the delegates unfortunatelj' lost his 
copy of this official schedule or orders of 
the day. General Mitflin, one of the del- 
egates from Pennsylvania, by good chance 
discovered the stray document, and, ex- 
plaining the circumstances to Washing- 
ton, placed it in the latter's hands, who, 
in silence and gravity, deposited it among 



his own papers. At the close of that day's 
proceedings, and just previously to the 
convention's rising, Washington, as pre-, 
siding officer, called the attention of the 
assembly to the matter in qiiestion, in the 
following characteristic remai-ks : 

" Gentlemen, I am sorry to find that 
some one member of this body has been so 
neglectful of the secrets of this convention, 
as to drop in the state house a copy of 
their proceedings — which, by accident, was 
picked up and delivered to me this morn- 
ing. I must entreat gentlemen to be 
more careful, lest our transactions get into 
the newspapers, and disturb the public 
repose by premature speculations. I know 
not whose paper it is, but there it is 
(tlirowing it down on the table) ; let him 
who owns it take it." 

But to proceed with the historical 
sketch of this most august body of modern 
legislators. 

They had been appointed merely with a 
view to the revision or improvement of the 
old articles of confederation, which still 
held them precariously together as a na- 
tion ; yet they had not deliberated long, 
when thej' determined that the existing 
compact or system of government must be 
swept away. The question, however, as to 
what should be substituted in its place, was 
one of extreme difficulty. Mr. Randolph, of 
Virginia, opened the great discussion by a 
speech in which he laid bare the defects of 
the confederation, and then submitted a 
series of resolutions embodj'ing the sub- 
stance of a plan of government — the same, 
in character, as that contained in letters 
written by Mr. Madison to Mr. Jefferson, 
Mr. Randolph, and General Washington, 
a few months previous. 

The plan in question proposed the form- 
ation of a general government, consti- 
tuted as follows : The national legislature 
to consist of two branches — the members 
of the first branch to be elected by the 
people of the several states, and the 
members of the second branch to be elected 
by the first branch, out of a proper number 
nominated by the state legislatures; th^ 
national legislature to have a negative on 



136 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



all tlie .state laws contravening tlio articlo.s 
of union, ami to have power to legislate in 
all cases where tlie states were incompe- 
tent ; the riglit of suffrage in the legisla^ 
ture to be proportioned to the quota of 
contribution, or to the number of free in- 
liabitants; a national executive to be 
chosen by the national legislature ; a na- 
tional judiciary, to consist of one or more 
su[)reme triliunals and inferior ones, the 
judges to be chosen by the national legis- 
lature ; the executive, and a convenient 
number of the national judiciary, to com- 




Ka.V.\KLi:« PLEADING FOB PACIFICATION. 

pose a council <>f revision to examine every 
act of the national legislature before it 
should operate, and every act of a particu- 
lar legislature before a negative thereon 
should lie tinal; i)rovision to be made for 
the a(lniissi(>i\ of new states to the Union ; 
a republican form of government to be 
administercil in each state; provision to 
be made for amendments to the articles of 
union ; the legislative, executive, and judi- 
ciary powers, or officials, of the several 
states, to be bound by oath to support the 
articles of union. 



A good degree of favor was shown to 
Mr. ltandoli>h's plan, but not sufficient to 
prevent other projects, conspicuous among 
these being one by Mr. Patterson, of J^'ew 
Jersey, and another by Alexander Hamil- 
ton, from being brouglit forward and urged 
by their respective friends, — all of these 
being republican in their general features, 
but diffi-ring in their details. 

For some flays, angry debates occurred 
which, but for the timely and healing 
irisi/om of Dr. Franhlin, the Mentor of 
the convention, would have ende<l in the 
breaking up of the body. As soon 
as there was an opening for him to 
speak, the doctor rose, and in a most 
imi)ressive manner, said, among 
other things : 

"It is to be feared that the num- 
bers of this convention are not in a 
temper, at this moment, to approach 
the subject on which we differ, in 
a candid spirit. I would therefore 
iro]>ose, ^Ir. President, that, without 
proceeding further in this business 
at this time, the convention shall 
adjourn for three days, in order to let 
the present ferment pass off, and to 
afford time for a more full, free, and 
dispassionate investigation of the 
subject ; and I would earnestly rec- 
ommend to the members of this con- 
vention, that they spend the time of 
this recess, not in associating with 
their own party, and devising new 
arguments to fortify themselves in 
their old opinions, but that they mix 
with members of op])Osite senti- 
ments, lend a patient car to their reason- 
ings, aiul candidly allow them all the 
weight to which they may be entitled ; 
and when we assemble again, I hope it will 
be with a determination to form a consti- 
tution; if not such an one as we can indi- 
vidually, and in all respects, approve, yet 
the best which, under existing circum- 
stances, can be obtained." (Hero the 
countenance of "Washington brightened, 
and a cheering ray seemed to break in 
upon the gloom of the assembly.) The 
doctor coi\tinued : 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



137 



" Before I sit down, Mr. President, I 
will suggest another matter ; and I am 
really surprised that it has not been pro- 
posed by some other member, at an earlier 
period of our deliberations. I will sug- 
gest, Mr. President, the propriety of nom- 
inating and appointing, before we separate, 
a chaplain to this convention, whose duty 
it shall be uniformly to assemble with us, 
and introduce the business of each day by 
imploring the assistance of Heaven, and 
its blessing upon our deliberations." 

The doctor sat down, and never did a 
countenance appear at once so dignified 
and so delighted as that of Washington, 
at the close of this address. The motion 
for appointing a chaplain was instantly 
seconded and carried. The convention 
also chose a committee, by ballot, consist- 
ing of one from each state, to sit during the 
recess, and then adjourned for three days. 

The three days were spent in the 
manner advised by Doctor Franklin. On 
re-assomliling, the chaplain appeared and 
led tile devotions of the assembly, and the 
minutes of the last sitting were read. All 
eyes were now turned to the venerable 
doctor. He rose, and in a few words 
stated, that during the recess he had list- 
ened attentively to all the arguments, jiro 
and eon, which had been urged by both 
sides of the house ; that he had himself 
•said much, and thought more, on the sub- 
ject ; he saw difficulties and objections, 
which might be urged by individual states, 
against every scheme which had been pro- 
posed ; and he was now, more than ever, 
convinced that the constitution wliich they 
were about to form, in order to be just and 
equal, must be formed on the basis of 
compromise and mutual concession. With 
such views and feelings, he would now 
move a reconsideration of the vote last 
taken on the organization of the senate. 
The motion was seconded, the vote carried, 
the former vote rescinded, and by a suc- 
cessive motion and resolution, the senate 
was organized on the present plan. 

On the seventeenth of September, the 
final debate closed, the last amendment was 
adopted, and the result of the convention's 



labors was the formation of a constitution 
establishing a national government on the 
following prescribed principles : That the 
affairs of the people of the United States 
were thenceforth to be administered, not 
by a confederacy, or mere league of friend- 
ship between the sovereign states, but by 
a government, distributed into the three 
great departments — legislative, judicial, 
and executive ; that the powers of govern- 
ment should be limited to concerns per- 
taining to the whole people, leaving the 
internal administration of each state, in 
time of peace, to its own constitution and 
laws, provided that they should be repub- 
lican, and interfering with them as little 
as possible in case of war; that the legis- 
lative power of this government should be 
divided between the two assemblies, one 
representing directly the people of the 
separate states, and the other their legisla- 
tures ; that the executive power of this 
government should be vested in one person 
chosen for four years, with certain quali- 
fications of age and nativity, and invested 
with a qualified negative upon the enact- 
ment of the laws; and that the judicial 
power should consist of tribunals inferior 
and supreme, to be instituted and organ- 
ized by congress, the judges removable 
only by impeachment. 

Thus, finally amended, the constitution 
was signed by all the members present, 
except by Messrs. Randoljdi and Mason, of 
Virginia, and Gerry, of Massachusetts. 
The scene is described as one of historic 
solemnity, rising almost to the sublime. 
When Washington, whose turn came first, 
was about to sign the instrument ordained 
to be henceforth — if ratified by the several 
states — the palladium of his country's na- 
tional existence, and the formation of 
which he had watched over with such 
anxious solicitude, he rose from his seat, 
and holding the pen in his hand, after a 
short pause, pronounced these words : 

" Sliould the states reject this excellent 
Constitution, the probahUifn is that an op- 
portunitij will never arjain be offered to 
cancel another in peace — the next will be 
drawn in blood." 



138 



OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



And wlicn, followinp; the example of 
their illustrious U-ader, the other members 
of the convention appended their sign.v 
tures, Doctor Franklin, with his eye fixed 
upon the presiding ofticer's seat, in the 
rear of which was the picture of a halo or 
sun, made the characteristic remark : 

" I have often and often, in the course 
of the session, and in the vicissitudes of 
my hopes and fears as to its issue, looked 
at that sun behind the president, without 
being able to tell whetlier it was rising or 
sinking; at length I have the happiness 
to know it is a rising and not a setting 
sun." 

The convention, however, which framed 
the constitution, was not clothed with leg- 
islative power, nor was the congress of the 
confederation competent to accept it or 
reject the new form of government. It 
was referred by them to the several states, 



represented by conventions of the people; 
and it was provided in the instrument it- 
self, that it should become the supreme 
law of the land, when adopted by nine 
states. It was not till the summer of 
1788 that the ratification of nine states 
was obtained, beginning with Delaware, 
some by large, and some by very small 
majorities. The violence of the opposition 
party was in some sections very great, re- 
sulting, in New York, in tumultuous riots. 
Of the thirteen original states, Rhode 
Island was the last to accept the constitu- 
tion, which she did in Maj-, 1790. 

The year of suspense, while the Ameri- 
can people were debating the great question 
whether to accept or reject the constitu- 
tion offered them by AVashington and his 
associate compatriots, was, on the an- 
nouncement of the result, succeeded by a 
national jubilee. 



XI. 

FIRST ELECTION AND INAUGURATION OF A PRESIDENT 
OF THE UNITED STATES.— 1789. 



Washington, " First in War, First in Peace, and First in the Hearts of his Countrymen," the Nation's 
Spontaneous, Unanimous Choioe — His Triumphal Progress from Home, and Solemn Induction into 
Office — Jubilee throufi;hout tlie Republic, over the August Event. — Auspicious Commencement of 
the National Executive Government — Requirements of the Constitution — A Piesident to be Chosen. 
— Four Years the Term of Service, — All Eyes Fixed Upon Washington.— His Reluctance to Accept. 
— Reasons Given for this Course, — Urgent Appeals to Him — The Result of the Election— One 
Voice and One Mind — He Bows to tlie People's Will — Joy Produced by His Decision. — Departs at 
Once from Mount Vernon, — Farewell Visits to His Mother. — Inauguration Appointed for .March 
Fourth. — Postponement to April Thirtieth. — Order of Ceremonies — New Spectacle in the Western 
World. — Distinguished Celebrities Present, — Wasliington's Elegant Appearance. — Dignity when 
Taking the Oath. — Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Curious Customs Initiated. 




"Where Bhall the eye rest, weary of gazing on the great, 
where find a glory that ia not criminai, a pomp that is not con- 
ternptibie? Yea, there is a man, the firet, the lost, the beat or 
oil. the Cincinnatus of the West, whom envy itself does not 
Iiiite. The name of Washington is bequeathed to us to maite 
humanity blush that such a man is alone in history '—Lohd 
Byron. 



CCORDING to the terms of the new 
federal constitution, which had now 
been assented to and ratified by the 
wASHixGTos's isAUQCRATiojT BIBLE. requisite number of states, a President 

of the United States was required to be elected for a term of four years ; and, amidst 
all the discordances of jjolitical opinion respecting the merits of the constitution itself, 
there was but one sentiment throughout the country as to the man who should admin- 
ister the affairs of the government. All, etjes were directed to Washington, and at an 
early period his correspondents endeavored to prepare his mind to gratify the expecta- 
tions of the people. Mr. Johnson, a distinguished patriot of Maryland, wrote him, 
"We can not do without you." Indeed, he alone was believed to fill so pre-eminent a 
place in the public esteem, that he might be called to the head of the nation without 
e.Kciting envy ; and he alone possessed in so unlimited a degree the confidence of the 
masses, that, under his auspices, the friends of the new political system might hope to 
see it introduced with a degree of firmness which would enable it to resist the open 
assaults and secret plots of its many enemies. 

By almost all who were on terms of intimacy with Washington, fears were enter- 
tained th.at his earnest desire for private life and the improvement of his vast and long- 
neglected plantations, would prevail over the wishes of the public, — an acquiescence 
in which wishes was believed to be absolutely essential to the completion of that great 
work, the Constitution, on which the grandeur and happiness of America was deemed to 



140 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1::G-1S76. 



dcppnd. The struggle, on his part, be- 
tween inclination iind duty, was long and 
severe, as is evident by the letters which he 
wrote on the subject, in response to the «[>- 
peals and importunities constantly made by 
his friends. Colonel Lee, then a distin- 
guished member of congress, communicat- 
ing to Washington the measures which that 
body were adopting to introduce the govern- 
ment just ordained, thus alludes to the 
presidency: " Witiiout you, the govern- 
ment can have but little chance of success ; 
and the people, of tliat happiness which 
its prosperity must yield." So, also, Mr. 
Gouverneur Morris, a patriot who had been 
one of the most valuable members of con- 
gress during a great part of the war, and 
who had jHTformed a splendid part in the 
general convention, wrote: '• 1 have ever 
thought, and have ever said that you must 
be the president; no other man can fill 
that office."' The great Ilaniilton likewise 
urged him to acce])! the office, and thus 
yield to the general call of the country in 
relation to its new and untried govern- 
ment. '• You will permit me to say,"' 
wrote Hamilton, " that it is indispensable 
j-ou should lend yourself to its first opera- 
tions. It is to little purpose to have in- 
troduced a system, if the weightiest intlii- 
enco is not given to its firm establisliiMiiit 
at the outset." Such arguments and en- 
treaties as these poured in ui>on Washing- 
ton from all quarters of the broad land, 
that ho should consent to assume the pres- 
idential chair. 

But the election had taken place, in 
obedience to the fundamental law ; and at 
length, the votes for the president and 
vice-president of the United States were, 
as prescribed in the constitution, opened 
and counted in the senate. The re.~^ult 
showed, that neither the animosity of par- 
ties, nor the activity- of the enemies of tlie 
newly-formed government, could deprive 
General Washington of a single vote in 
the electoral college. By the voluntary 
and spontaneous voice of a great people, 
he was called to the chief magistracy of 
the nation. The second number of votes 
was given to Mr. John Adams, of Massa- 



chusetts. George Washington and John 
Adams were therefore declared to be duly 
elected president and vice-president of the 
United States, to serve for four years from 
the fourth of March, 178!). 

At Mount Vernon, on the fourteenth of 
April, 1789, the appointment of General 
Washington as supreme executive of the 
republic was officially announced to him. 
This commission was performed by Mr. 
Charles Thomson, secretary of the late 
congress, who presented to him a certifi- 
cate signed by John Langdon, president 
pro tempore of the senate, stating tliat he 
was unanimously elected. 

Accustomed to respect the wishes of his 
fellow-citizens, Washington did not think 
himself at liberty to decline an office con- 
ferred upon him bv the unsought .suffrage 
of an entire people. His acceptance of it, 
and the expressions of gratitude he in- 
dulged in fortius fresh proof of the esteem 
anil confidence of his country, were min- 
gled with declarations of extreme diffidence 
in himself. '• I wish," he said, " tiiat there 
may not bo reason for regretting the 
choice, for, indeed, all I can promise is, 
to accomplish that wliich can be done by 
an honest zeal." In this sjiirit of devoted 
self-sacrifice, and realizing that the ur- 
gency of public affairs must require the 
immediate attendance of the president at 
the seat of government, he hastened his 
departure ; on the sixteenth of April, 
therefore, — the second day after receiving 
the certificate of his election, — he bade 
adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, 
and to domestic felicity, and, in company 
with Mr. Thomson and Colonel Hum- 
phreys, proceeded to New York, where 
congress was then in session, to assume 
the administration of the new government. 
But, notwithstanding the weight of anxi- 
ety upon his mind concerning the public 
business, he did not omit to jjay a parting 
visit to his venerable mother. Embracing 
his mother, Washington bowed his head 
upi>n her shoulder and wept, murmuring 
at the same time something of a hope that 
they should meet again. "No, George," 
she replied, " this is our last parting ; my 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



141 



days to come are few. But go, fulfill your 
high duties, and may God bless and keep 
you." She was then afflicted with a 



town, where the whole population turned 
out to do him honor. And thus it was, 
that, notwithstanding Washington wished 




cancer, of which she died in her eighty- 
second year. 

Leaving Alexandria, he was accompa- 
nied by a throng of citizens to George- 



to make a private journey, his desire could 
not be gratified. The public feelings were 
too strong to be suppressed. Crowds 
flocked around him enthusiastically whei^ 



142 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ever he stopped ; and corps of militia, and 
processions of citizens, attended liim 
through their respective states. At Phil- 
adelphia, he was received by a concourse 
of the most distinguished personages of 
the city and state, and followed by thou- 
sands of people to a grand banquet, pre- 
pared for the occasion, where addresses 
and sentiments were interchanged, while 
the air was filled with the shouts of i)oj)u- 
lar exultation, and with one universal 
acclaim, invoking blessings ujion him. As 
he crossed the Schuylkill, a civic crown of 
laurel was, iinperceived by him, let down 
upon his head by a youth who was con- 
cealed in the arch of evergreen wliich dec- 
orated the bridge. At night, the whole 
town was brilliantly illuminated, and all 
classes and ages spontaneously united in 
the happy festivities. 

The next daj', at Trenton, ho was wel- 
comed in a manner exceedingly novel and 
touching. In addition to the us\ial dem- 
onstrations of respect and attachment, 
which were given by the discharge of 
cannon, by military corps, and by private 
persons of distinction, the gentler sex pre- 
pared, in their own taste, a most unique 
tribute of their regard, indicative of the 
grateful recollection in which they held 
their deliverance twelve j'ears before from 
an insulting enemy. On the bridge ex- 
tending across the stream which i)asses 
through the town, — the place where Wash- 
ington, atone time, made so gallant a sur- 
prise on the enemy of his country, and at 
another, so important a stand, and a re- 
treat worth more than a victory, — a tri- 
umphal arch was erected, with evergreen 
and floral adornments, and supimrted by 
thirteen pillars similarly enwreathed. On 
the front was inscribed, in large golden 
letters: 'The Dki-exder of the Moth- 
ers WILL BE THE PROTECTOK OF THE 

Dauohters.' Over this, in the center of 
the arch, above the inscription, was a 
dome or cupola of evergreens and flowers 
encircling the dates of two memorable 
events, one of these being the bold and 
judicious stand made by the American 
troops, by which the progress of the Brit- 



ish army was arrested on the evening pre- 
ceding the battle of Princeton; the other 
was the date of Washington's glorious 
victory at Trenton, when nine hundred 
Hessians were made jirisoners, and the 
horizon of American affairs was illumined 
by a radiance which never .again whollj' 
forsook it. On the summit of the arch a 
largo sun-flower, as always pointing to the 
sun, was designed to express this motto, — 
' To You Alone.' The ladies had ar- 
ranged themselves on the side of the 
street, between the arch and the town, 
with their daughters in front, to a very 
considerable number, all dressed in white, 
and decorated with floral wreaths and 
chaplets. Six of these lield baskets of 
flowers in their hands, and, as soon as the 
general had ])assed under the arch, the 
beautiful choristers advanced, singing a 
sonnet composed for the occasion ; as they ' 
sung the last lines they strewed the flowers 
before the general. 

At Brunswick, he was joined by Gov- 
ernor William Livingston, of New Jersey, 
who accompanied him to Elizabetbtown 
Point. On the road, the committee of 
congress received and attended him with 
much military parade to the point where 
ho was to embark for New York. The 
embarkation took place in a magnificently- 
decorated barge, manned and rowed by 
thirteen br.aneh pilots, attired in white. 
There were also other b.'irges, filled with 
eminent dignitaries from all parts of the 
land. 

Arriving at New York, the president 
was received by the governor of the state, 
and by an immense concourse of citizens, 
headed by the military. Multitudes of his 
old and faithful officers and fellow-patriots 
pressed around him to offer their congrat- 
ulations, and to express the joy which 
glowed in their bosoms at seeing the man 
in whom all confided, at the head of the 
nation's affairs. 

Thus it appears that the president's first 
arrival at the seat of government was a 
national ovation which showed, by its 
spontaneousness, enthusiasm, and unanim- 
ity, that all hearts and voices were united 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



143 



in liis favor. It was au occasion which 
excited tlie great heart of the people be- 
yond all powers of descrijition ; the hand 
of industry was suspended, and the various 
pleasures of the capital were centered in a 
single and universal enjoyment. Many 
aged patriots were heard to say that they 
should now die contented, having had a 
sight of the Father of his Country. 




1'i:i>im;mial massion, 1769. 

The fourtli of March was the day which 
had been appointed for the new national 
government to commence operations, but 
so many impediments occurred that it was 
not until the thirtieth of April that this 
took place. 

Vice-president Adams arrived in New 
York, escorted bj' a troop of horse, on the 
twentj'-first of April, and, two days before 
Washington's arrival, took his seat as the 
constitutional presiding officer of the 
senate. On doing this, he addressed that 
body in a dignified speech adapted to the 
occasion, and warmly eulogistic of the 
new-born republic and its illustrious chief 
magistrate. 

On Thursday, the thirtieth of April, 
1789, the ceremony of Inaugurating the 
Eirst President of the United States took 
place in New York, which at that time 
was the federal capital. Long before the 
hour arrived, the town swarmed with 
people ; every tavern and boarding-house 
was full, and private residences teemed 
with guests and lodgers. Many persons 
are said to have slept in tents on ' the 
Common.' The Hudson was studded with 
boats bearing visitors, and long caravans 
of carts began to arrive before daybreak, 
from Westchester, Long Island, and the 
Jerseys. The ceremony of the day was 



ushered in by a salute fired from the bat- 
terj-. This was about six o'clock in the 
morning, and, even at this early hour, the 
streets were fast tilling up. At nine, the 
church bells rang out a merrj- peal ; at ten 
the}' summoned the worshipers to church, 
each pastor devoting the occasion to im- 
ploring Heaven's blessing upon the nation 
and the first president. General Wash- 
ington had now been in the city a week, 
having arrived on the twenty-third. He 
was living in a private house, the prop- 
erty of Mr. Osgood, on the corner of 
Cherry street and Franklin square ; but 
his household arrangements had not yet 
been perfected, as Mrs. Washington did 
not arrive for some little time, remaining 
at Mount Vernon until affairs were in a 
state of readiness for her presence at the 
new presidential mansion. 

At eight o'clock, on this memorable 
morning, the sky was overcast, and the 
appearance was tliat of a gathering storm. 
Everybody noticed, however, that the mo- 
ment the bells began to ring the sky 
cleared, and bj' the close of divine service 
the weather was serene and beautiful. At 
noon, the procession that was to conduct 
the president to Federal hall assembled 
in due style opposite his residence in 
Cherry street. There were the usual mil- 
itary comjianies — a troop of horse, one or 
two comjianies of grenadiers, a company of 
Highlanders, in kilts, — all the chief mu- 
nicipal officers, the congressional commit- 




I'KESIDEXTIAL MANSION, 1876. 

tees, and the new cabinet, — multitudes of 
distinguished citizens bringing up the 
rear. By this assemblage the new presi- 
dent was escorted to Federal liall, which 
stood at the head of Broad street, in Wall, 



144 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



/ 



where the custom-house was subsequently 
built. The old building hud been jiut in 
repair at a conisiderable e.xpfiise, but it 
was still so rickety that cautious persons 
looked forward to the ceremony with un- 
easiness. The procession having arrived, 
and the hall occupied according to the pro- 
gramme, nothing remained but to proceed 
with the solemn furnialities ; and, when it 
is remembered that there was no precedent 
in history for the inauguration of a rej>ub- 
lican president, one can not but admire the 
striking dignity which clianuterized the 
whole occasion. At the door of the senate 
chamber, to wliich the ej-es of the whole 
vast multitude were intensely directed, the 
vice-president met General Washington, 
and with consummate but unaffected ease 
and grace of manner said — 

" Sir, the Semite and house of represent- 
atives of the United States are ready ta 
attend i/oii to take the oath require<l hij 
the Constitution, which will he tidminis- 
tered to you hy the chancellor of the state 
of Hew York." 

"Iain ready to proceed," was Washing- 
ton's reply, maile with his accustonied 
elegant dignity. 

The vice-president now led the way to 
the outside gallery ; the jiresident fol- 
lowed, with as many of the high function- 
aries as could find room, and all were pres- 
ently gathered on the balcony fmnting i>n 
Wall street. Of tlie group, perhaps the 
most striking person was Chancellor Liv- 
ingston, in a full suit of black, and, like 
Washington, one of the finest-liM^king men 
anywhere to be seen. Secretary Otis car- 
ried the Bible on a crimson cushion, and 
near him were (ienerals "Knox and St. 
Clair, Roger Sherman, Hamilton, and 
other noted persons of revolutionary fame. 
At the proper moment, the chancellor ad- 
ministered the oath, with great delibera- 
tion and emphasis, to Washington, who, 
bowing down, seized the book, kissed it, 
and exclaimed, with closed eyes and much 
emotion — 

" / swear, so help me God ! " 

"It is done," the chancellor declared, 
and, turning to the crowd exclaimed, 



" Lony Hoe George Washington, President 
of the United States.'" 

This last-named declaration, on the part 
of the chancellor, was in imitation of mo- 
narchical custom. The error of this jirac- 
tice was, however, soon exposed and 
abandoned; but at this time, the crowd 
thought of nothing but the exciting solem- 
nity of the scene, and many who demon- 
stratively waved their hats were too 
overcome b^' emotion to join in the huzzas. 

Of course, Washington was the ob.served 
of all observers in that mighty crowd, and 
his grandly-commanding figure made this 
both natural and easy, and so too did the 
construction of the balcony, conspicnnusly 
fronting the edifice, where the remarkable 
ceremony was performed. He was dressed 
in a conii)lete suit of dark brown broad- 
cloth, of American j>roduction, white silk 
long stockings, silver shoe-buckles u]i(iii 
his jiolishcd shoes, a steel-hilted dress 
sword, and his hair dressed and powdered 
according to the 8t3'le then in vogue, and 
gathered up in a bag. This attire, it may 
be remarked, was Washington's personal 
choice. On the occasion of his second in- 
auguration, however, Washington was 
dressed precisely as Stuart has ])ainted 
him in Lord Lansdt>wiie's full-length ]ior- 
trait — in a full suit of the richest black 
velvet, with diamond knee-buckles, and 
s(]>ian' silver buckles set upon shoes ja- 
panncil with the most .scru]Pulous neatness, 
black silk stockings, his shirt rufHed at the 
breast and wrists, a light dress-sword; his 
hair profusely jwwdered, fully dressed, so 
as to project at the sides, and gathered be- 
hind in a silk bag, ornamented with a 
large rose of black ribbon. He held his 
cocked hat, which had a large black cock- 
ade on one side of it, in his hand, while 
standing, but laid it on the table when he 
sat down. 

Washington, on taking the oath, as ad- 
ministered by Chancellor Livingston, is 
said to have laid his hand upim that Jiage 
of the Bible containing the tifticth chapter 
of Genesis, opposite to which were two 
illustrations of the text, one being a ])ic- 
ture of ' The Blessing of Zebulon,' and the 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



145 



other of ' The Prophecj' of Issachar.' That 
memorable volume, of such peculiar his- 
torical associations, now belongs to one of 
the masonic lodges in New York. Upon 
each of the two outside surfaces of the vol- 
ume, there is engraved in golden letters a 
commemorative record of the interesting 
circumstances attaching to it ; and on the 
inside, beautifully written upon parch- 
ment, in ornamental style, surmounted by 
an engraved portrait of Washington, is 
the following statement : 

* On this Sacred Volume, on the 30th day 
of April, 1789, in the city of New York, 
was administered to George Washingtox 
the first President of the United States of 
America, the oath to support the Constitu- 
tion of the United States. This important 
ceremony was performed by the Most 
Worshipful Grand Master of Free and 
Accepted Masons of the state of New 
York, the Honorable Robert R. Livings- 
ton, Chancellor of the state.' 

The inaugural address delivered by 
Washington, and which, like all the early 
inaugurals, possessed the merit of brevity, 
was pronounced in the senate chamber. It 
was considered, in those days, a speech to 
congress and not to the people ; and both 
houses felt it incumbent on them — follow- 
ing the usage of monarchies, — to present 
replies to the president, at his residence. 

From the senate chamber, the president 
was escorted to St. Paul's church, where 
he heard an appropriate religious service, 
conducted by Dr. Prevost; and thence 
home to his house. In the evening the 
whole city was one blaze of illumination, 
all classes particii^ating in this attractive 



feature of the general jubilee. Many of 
the illuminations were very beautiful — 
none more so than those of the French and 
Spanish ministers, who both lived in 
Broadway, near the Bowling Green ; and 
the whole scene was unique, animated, and 
enchanting. General Washington him- 
self went 'down town,' that is to say, 
toward the Battery, to see the spectacle, of 
which he expressed the warmest admira- 
tion ; returning about ten o'clock on foot, 
the crowd being too dense for a carriage 
to pass. 

As the supreme head of the nation. 
President Washington at once endeavored 
to acquaint himself fully with the state of 
public affairs, and for this purpose, he 
called upon those who had been the heads 
of dej)artments imder the confederation, to 
report to him the situation of their respec- 
tive concerns. He also, having consulted 
with his friends, adopted a sj-stem for the 
order of his own household, for the regu- 
lation of his hours of business, and of in- 
tercourse with those who, in a formal 
manner, visited him as the chief magis- 
trate of the nation. But he publicly an- 
nounced that neither visits of business nor 
of ceremony would be expected on Sunday, 
as he wished to reserve that day sacredly 
to himself. One of the most important 
and delicate of the president's duties was 
to fill those departments which congress at 
an early day had established to aid the 
executive in the administration of the 
government. His judgment and prudence 
were consistentlv exhibited in this respect, 
by his selecting such able men for his 
cabinet. 



10 



XII. 

GREATEST DEFEAT AND VICTORY OF AMERICAN ARMS 
IX THE INDIAN WARS.— 1791. 



Headlong Flight and Pestruction cf St. Clair'a Army, in 1791, Before tlio Trained Warriors of " Lit- 
tle Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwlielming Triumph in 1794. — Final 
and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jackson, in 1814. — The Question of I'owcr Between the Two llaces For- 
ever settled in Favor of the Whites — Old Feuds Between the Races — Ilarmer's E.xpedition to the 
Northwest — Powerless in Ambush Warfare. — Repeated and Bloody Reverses — St. Clair put in Com- 
mand. — Warning Words of Washington. — Sudden Attack by the Miamis. — Terrible Slaughter of the 
Whites. — Overthrow of the Whole Campaign — Washington's Reception of the News. — Ills Appall- 
ing Wrath. — Sketch of St. Clair's Conqueror. — His Fame at Home and Abroad — General Wayne 
Sent to the Field. — Unsuccessfully Proffers Peace. — Instantly Prepares for Battle. — Great Army of 
Indian Warriors — Their Sagacious Choice of Position. — Desperate Fury of the Conflict. — Wayne's 
Prowess Irresistible. — Death Knell of the Savages. — Their Confederacy Shattered. 



" Nothing but lamentable ooundl was heard, 
Nur au;;ht wa« »ven but Kba*tly views of death, 
Inleciious horror run from face to face, 
An<l pate despair." 




LL liistoriaiis agree in declaring that the 
defeat of General St. Clair, in 1791, b}' 
the Indians of the north-west territory, 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



147 



was the most signal and disastrous ever 
sustained by the American army, in its 
battles with the warriors of the forest. 

On the other hand, this defeat — the 
news of which fell like a thunderbolt upon 
the then struggling and distracted govern- 
ment, — was retrieved by a most complete 
and decisive victorj'^, under General 
Wayne, over these same tribes, collected 
together in a vast and powerful horde, at 
the rapids of the Maumee, in 1794 ; a vic- 
tory which, taken in connection with the 
subsequent overwhelming triumph of Gen- 
eral Jackson, in his campaign against the 
Creeks, gave the finishing stroke to the 
power of the Indian race in North Amer- 
ica, — settling forever the long struggle 
that had been carried on between the white 
man and the red man, in favor of the 
former, though the warlike propensities of 
the savages occasionally broke out in sub- 
sequent years, as in 1811, under Tecum- 
seh ; the Creek war, of 1814, under 
Weatherford ; the terrible Seminole cam- 
paign ; the Cherokee contest ; the hostili- 
ties of the Sacs, Foxes, and Winnebagoes, 
under Black Hawk ; the renowned Flor- 
ida war, of 1835, under Micanopy and Os- 
ceola; etc. These later wars tasked, to 
the utmost, the military skill of such 
trained soldiers as Jackson, Harrison, 
Worth, Harney, Jessup, Clinch, Thomp- 
son, Dade, Atkinson, Gaines, Taylor. Red 
Jacket, and Cornplanter, were prominent 
chieftains in the wars of the Senecas. 

In the month of September, 1790, Gen- 
eral Harmer was intrusted with the import- 
ant duty of looking after the fierce tribes 
iin the Miami and Wabash, between whom 
and the Kentuckians there had long waged 
a relentless war. The general went for- 
ward with a body of three hundred and 
twenty regulars, who, being re-enforced by 
the militia of Pennsylvania and Kentucky, 
formed a corps of one thousand four hun- 
dred and fiftj'-three men. The Indians, 
on his approach, set fire to their villages ; 
but this was nothing, unless they could be 
brought to an engagement. Harmer, 
however, instead of advancing himself, 
with the main body, sent forward Colonel 



Hardin, with two hundred and ten men, 
of whom only thirty were regulars. They 
were attacked ; the militia fled ; the others 
were nearly cut off. The general then 
sent forward Hardin, with three hundred 
men, who speedily encountered another 
large body. After a brave contest, in 
which this party lost nearly half their 
number, they retreated on the main body. 
Thus disaster followed disaster, and the 
nation became sore and mortified under 
such repeated humiliations. 

One of the last measures, therefore, 
adopted by the United States congress, 
the ensuing year, 1791, was to augment 
the national military force, to a suitable 
degree of power, and to place in the hands 
of President Washington more ample 
means for the protection of the frontier, as 
the Indians on the north-west side of the 
Ohio still continued their hostilities. A 
new expedition against the belligerent 
tribes had, in consequence, been projected ; 
and General St. Clair, then governor of 
the territory west of the Ohio, was ap- 
pointed commander of the forces to be em- 
ployed. Washington had been deeply 
chagrined by the mortifying disasters of 
General Harmer's expedition to the Wa- 
bash, resulting from Indian ambushes. 
In taking leave, therefore, of his old mili- 
tary comrade, St. Clair, he wished him 
success and honor, and added this solemn 
warning : 

" You have your instructions from the 
secretary of war. I had a strict eye to 
them, and will add but one word, — Be- 
ware of a surprise ! You know how the 
Indians fight. I rejjeat it — Beware of a 
surprise ! " 

With these warning words sounding in 
his ear, fresh with Washington's awful 
emphasis, St. Clair departed. 

On the fourth of November, while the 
main body of St. Clair's army were en- 
camped in two lines on rising ground, 
some fifteen miles south of the Miami vil- 
lages on one of the tributaries of the Wa- 
bash, and the militia upon a high flat on 
the other side of the stream, they were 
surprised and terribly attacked by an In- 



148 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



dian force whicli lay concealed in the 
woods. General St. Clair, who was suffer- 
ing severely from gout, was tmable to 
mount his horse, and had to be carried 
about in a litter, from •vhich he gave his 
orders with discretion and the most perfect 
coolness. The battle raged fearfully for 
nearly three hours, and after nearly half 
of his army had been slaughtered, St. Clair 
beat a headlong retreat. Thus were all 
the plans, hopes and labors of President 
Washington, congress, and the cabinet, in 
reference to the Indian campaign, utterly 
and deplorably overtlirown in a single 
day ! This result is stated to have arisen 
thus : On the third of November, St. Clair 
formed his force into two lines ; the first, 
under the command of General Butler, 
composed the right wing, and lay with a 
creek immediately in their front. The 
left wing, commanded by Colonel Darke, 
formed the second, and lay with an inter- 
val of about seventy yards between them 
and the first line. The militia were ad- 
vanced beyond the creek, about a quarter 
of a mile in front. About half an hdur 
before sunrise the next morning, just aftt r 
the troops had been dismissed from t 
parade, an unexpected attack was made 
upon the militia, who fled in the utmost 
confusion, and rushing into camp through 
the first line of regular troops, \\hiili had 



been formed the instant the first gun was 
discharged, threw them too into disorder. 
Such was the panic, and so rapid and irreg- 
ular the flight, that the exertions of the 
officers to recall the men to their senses 
and to duty were quite unavailing. 

It was soon perceived that the American 
fire could produce, on a concealed enemy, 
no considerable effect, and that the only 
hope of victory was in the baj'onet. At 
the head of the second regiment, which 
formed the left of the left wing, Darke 
made an impetuous charge upon the 
enemy, forced them from their ground 
with some loss, and drove them about four 
hundred yards. He was followed by that 
whole wing ; but the want of a sufficient 
number of riflemen to press this advan- 
tage, deprived him of its benefit, and, as 
soon as he gave over the pursuit, the In- 
dians renewed the attack. In the mean- 
tiiiic. rjoiionil KntliT w;i^ niortallv 




^vavm; ' 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



149 



wounded, the left of the right wing was 
broken, the artillerists almost to a man 
killed, the guns seized, and the camp pen- 
etrated by the enemy. Orders were given 
to again charge with the bayonet; this 
was done with spirit and momentary suc- 
cess, the Indians being driven out of the 
camp, and the artillery recovered. 

To save the remnant of the army was 
all that now remained to be done ; and, 
about half-past nine in the morning. Gen- 
eral St. Clair ordered Colonel Darke, with 
the second regiment, to charge a body of 
Indians who intercepted their retreat, and 
to gain the road. Major Clarke, with his 
battalion, was directed to cover the rear. 
These orders were executed, and then a 
disorderly flight commenced. The pursuit 
was kept up about four miles, when, fortu- 
nately for the surviving Americans, the 
victorious savages, eager for plunder, 
stopped at the camp of their vanquished 
foes, to divide the sjwils. The routed 
troops continued their flight to Fort Jef- 
ferson — some thirty miles, — throwing 
away their arms along the road. At this 
place they met the detached regiment, and 
leaving their wounded at Fort Jefferson, 
the army continued its retreat to Fort 
Washington, the site of the present city 
of Cincinnati. 

Poor St. Clair's defeat has been aptly 
j)aralleled with that of Braddock. No 
doubt, when he realized the terrible havoc 
that had been made, he thought sadly of 
Washington's parting words, " Beware of 
a surprise ! " The manner in which the 
news of this disaster affected Washington 
is thus described by Mr. Rush : — 

Towards the close of a winter's day, in 
December, an officer in uniform was seen 
to dismovint in front of the president's 
house in Philadelphia, and, giving the 
bridle to his servant, knock at the door of 
the mansion. Learning from the porter 
that the president was at dinner, he said 
he was on public business, having dis- 
patches which he could deliver only to the 
commander-in-chief. A servant was sent 
into the dining-room to give the informa- 
tion to Mr. Lear, the president's private 



secretary, who left the table and went into 
the hall, where the officer repeated what 
he had said. Mr. Lear replied that, as 
the president's secretary, he would take 
charge of the dispatches and deliver them 
at the proper time. The officer made 
answer that he had just arrived from the 
western army, and his orders were explicit, 
to deliver them with all promptitude, and 
to the president in person ; but that he 
would wait his directions. Mr. Lear re- 
turned, and in a whisper imparted to the 
l^resident what had passed. General 
Washington rose from the table and went 
to the officer. He was back in a short 
time, made a word of apology for his ab- 
sence, but no allusion to the cause of it. 
He had company that day. Everything 
went on as usual. Dinner over, the gen- 
tlemen passed to the drawing-room of Mrs. 
Washington, which was open in the even- 
ing. The general spoke courteously to 
every lady in the room, as was his custom. 
His hours were early, and by ten o'clock 
all the company had gone. Soon Mrs. 
Washington left the room, and the general 
and Mr. Lear remained. The chief now 
paced the room in hurried strides, and 
without speaking, for several minutes. 
Then he sat down on a sofa by the fire, 
telling Mr. Lear to sit dov^oi. He rose 
again, and, as he walked backward and 
forward, Mr. Lear saw a storm gathering. 
In the agony of his emotion, he struck his 
clenched hands with fearful force against 
his forehead, and in a paroxysm of anguish 
exclaimed — 

"It's all over! St. Clair's defeated— 
routed ; the officers nearly all killed — the 
men by wholesale — that brave army cut to 
pieces — the rout complete ! too shocking to 
think of — and a surprise in the bargain!" 

He uttered all this with great vehe- 
mence. Then he paused, and walked 
about the room several times, agitated, but 
saying nothing. Near the door he stopped 
short and stood still a few seconds; then, 
turning to the secretary, who stood amazed 
at the spectacle of Washington in all his 
terrors, the general, in his wrath, again 
broke out, saying. 



150 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



" Yes, sir, here, in this very room, on 
this verij spot, I took leave of liim; I 
wished him success and honor. ' You 
have your instructions,' I said, ' from the 
secretary of war ; I liad a strict eye to 
them, and will add but one word — beware 
of a surprise ! I repeat it — beware of a 
surprise! You know how the Indians 
fight us.' He went off with that as my 
last solemn warning thrown into his ears. 
And yet, to suffer that army to be cut to 
pieces, hacked by a surprise — the very 
thing I guarded him against ! God ! 
O God! he's worse than a murderer! 
How can he answer it to his country ? 
The blood of the slain is upon liim — the 
curse of widows and orphans — the curse of 
heaven ! " 

This torrent came out in tone appalling. 
His very frame shook. " It was awful ! " 





said Mr. Lear. More than once he threw 
his hands up as he hurled imprecations 
upon St. Clair. Mr. Lear remained speech- 
less — awed into breathless silence. Pres- 
ently the roused chief sat down on the 
sofa once more. He seemed conscious of 
his passion, and uncomfortable. He was 
silent ; his wrath began to subside. He 
at length said, in an altered voice, 

''This must not go beyond this room." 
Another pause followed — a longer one — 
when he said, in a tone quite low, 

"General St. Clair shall have justice. 
I looked hastily through the dispatches — 



saw the wliole disaster, but not all the par- 
ticulars. I will hear him without preju- 
dice; he shall have full justice ; yes, long, 
faithful, and meritorious services have 
their claims." 

Washington was now perfectly calm. 
Half an hour had gone b^' ; the storm of 
indignation and passion was over, and no 
sign of it was afterward seen in his con- 
duct or heard in his conversation. His 
wrath on this occasion was perhaps never 
before aroused to so great a pitch, except 
when he confronted Lee, when the latter 
was retreating at the battle of Monmouth. 
St. Clair was succeeded by the brave 
General Wayne, whose successes retrieved 
the misfortunes of his predecessor, as the 
following stirring record will show. It 
will be interesting, however, to have some 
account of the character and personal ap- 
pearance of Michikiniqua, or 
" Little Turtle," the Missesago 
chief, who conquered St. Clair, 
for in no recorded battle did the 
sons of the forest ever show 
themselves better warriors, or 
arhiove more renown at home 
and abroad. 

Notwithstanding his name. 
Little Turtle was at this time at 
least si.\ feet high, strong, mus- 
cular, and remarkably dignified 
in his manners, though of a very 
sour and morose countenance, 
and apparently very crafty and 
subtle. He was the son of a 
Miami chief, and was forty-five 
years of age when he led his warriors 
against poor St. Clair. His warlike train- 
ing was of that stern and hardening kind 
which was never omitted in his nation. 

It was on the banks of tlie IMianii, or 
Maumee, in 1794, that General Anthony 
Wayne, the successor of St. Clair in the 
command of the American army in the 
Miami country, dealt a retributive and 
staggering blow to the jiowcr of the In- 
dians in that vast and magnificent region, 
— a blow from which they never recovered. 
Realizing the terrible shock which the 
nation received by the defeat of St. Clair, 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



151 



the brave Wayne — " mad Anthony," as he 
was commonly called, on account of his 
reckless courage, — at once made the best 
of his way to the theater of action, for it 
was easy to foresee, what indeed immedi- 
ately ensued, that, under the encourage- 
ment of the successes against Harmer and 
St. Clair, all the treaties would be dis- 




solved, and a general savage confederacy 
formed against the United States. 

On the eighth of August, 1794, Wayne 
had reached the confluence of the Au 
Glaize and the Miamis of the lakes, with- 
out opposition. The richest and most 
extensive settlements of the western In- 
dians were here. Halting at this place, 
a few days, the Americans threw up some 
works of defense. A fort had also been 
built on the St. Mary, twenty-four miles 
in advance of Fort Recovery. 

Unwilling to lose time, or to be in any 
way outwitted, Wayne moved forward on 
the fifteenth of August, and on the six- 
teenth met his messenger returning from 
the Indians, and bearing word from them, 
that, if the Americans would wait ten days 
at Glaize, they, the Indians, would decide 
for peace or war. Wayne's only notice of 
this evasive message was to march straight 
on, arriving, on the eighteenth, at the 
rapids ; here they halted, and labored the 
next day in erecting works for the protec- 
tion of their baggage. At eight, on the 
morning of the twentieth, the American 
army moved down the north bank of the 



Maumee ; Wa^-ne's legion was on the 
right, its flank covered by the Maumee ; 
one brigade of mounted volunteers was on 
the left, under Brigadier-General Todd; 
and the other was in the rear, under Brig- 
adier-General Barbee. A selected battal- 
ion of mounted volunteers moved in front 
of the legion, commanded by Major Price, 
who was directed to keep sufficiently ad- 
vanced, so as to give timely notice for the 
troops to form in case of action, it being 
yet undetermined whether the Indians 
would choose peace or war. 

Wayne says, in his official dispatch, 
that, after advancing about five miles, 
Major Price's corps received so severe a 
fire from the enemy, who were secreted in 
the woods and high grass, as to compel 
them to retreat. The legion was immedi- 
ately formed into two lines, principally in 
a close thick wood, which extended for 
miles on the left, and for a very consider- 
able distance in front ; the ground was 
covered with old fallen timber, probably 
occasioned by a tornado, which rendered it 
impracticable for the cavalry to act with 
effect, and afforded the enemy the most 
favorable covert for their mode of warfare. 
The savages were formed in three lines, 
within supporting distance of each other, 
and extending for nearly two miles at 
right angles with the river. Wayne soon 
discovered, from the weight of the fire and 
the extent of their lines, that the enemy 
were in full force in front, in possession 
of their favorite ground, and endeavoring 
to turn the American left flank. He there- 
fore gave orders for the second line to 
advance and support the first, and directed 
Major-General Scott to gain and turn the 
right flank of the savages, with the whole 
of the mounted volunteers, by a circuitous 
route; at the same time, the front line was 
ordered to advance and charge with trailed 
arms, and rouse the Indians from their 
coverts at the point of the bayonet, and 
when up to deliver a close and well-directed 
fire on their backs, followed by a brisk 
charge, so as not to give them time to 
load again. 

All these orders were obeyed with spirit 



I 



152 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



and promptitude ; but such was the im- 
petuosity o£ the cliarge by the first line of 
infantry, that the Indians and Canadian 
militia and volunteers were driven from 
their coverts in so short a time, that, 
although every possible exertion was used 




LllTLE TIUTLE. 



by the officers of the second line of the 
legion, and by Generals Scott, Todd, and 
Barbee, of the mounted volunteers, to gain 
their proper positions, only a part of each 
could get up in season to participate in the 
action, — the enemy being driven, in the 
course of one hour, more than two miles, 
through the thick woods, bj' less than one- 
half their numbers. Thus did this power- 
ful horde of savages, who had assumed to 
dictate terms and throw down the gauntlet 
to the American nation, abandon them- 
selves to flight, and floe in terror and dis- 
may, before Wayne and liis victorious 
array. Tliej- were compelled to sue for 
peace on the conqueror's own terms ; their 



confederacy was shattered into fragments; 
their power was forever annihilated. On 
the return of Wayne to Philadelphia, then 
the nation's capital, there was a cessation 
of all business, as on some great holiday; 
the military turned out in legions to meet 
him ; the bells rang out their merriest 
peals, cannon boomed from every hill-top, 
and the plaudits of the multitude attended 
him at every step. General Harrison's 
defeat of the Indians under Tecumseh, at 
Tippecanoe, in 1811, was another victory 
of similar brilliancy and importance, de- 
serving of mention here. 

It only remains to add to this chapter, 
General Jackson's crowning achievement 
in the work of grinding to powder the mil- 
itary prestige of the Indian race in North 
America. The Creeks and Seminoles had 
long disputed the intrusion of the white 
race, and, though dreadfully cut to j)ieces 
in the battles of Talluschatclies, Talladega, 
Enuickfaw, Enotochopco, and others, de- 
termined to make one more great and final 
struggle in the field. Accordingly, with 
consummate sagacity and skill, they se- 
lected a position at the great bend of the 
Tallapoosa, called by them Tohopeka, and 
by the whites Horseshoe Bend. Here, 
strongly fortified, were collected together 
the proudest, fiercest, most victorious war- 
riors, of all that race and region. On the 
27th of March, 1814, Jackson advanced 
and attacked them with tremendous en- 
ergy, the troojis leaping over the walls of 
the fort, and engaging in a hand-to-hand 
combat with the savages, the latter fight- 
ing with characteristic furj- and despera- 
tion. Of the nine hundred warriors, — the 
flower of their tribes, — who defended the 
fort, seven hundred and fifty were killed 
or drowned ; for, seeing no chance of 
escape, and scorning to surrender, they 
fought with bloody energy until nearly all 
were slain. 



XIII. 



WHITNEY'S EXTRAORDINARY COTTON-GIN INVEN- 
TION.— 1793. 



Amazing Impetus Given to the Culture, Uses and Consumption of Cotton. — Revolution in the In- 
dustrial Prospects and Political Power of the South. — How Cotton Became " King." — Its Relation to 
the Great Themes and Events in American History. — Ingratitude to Whitney. — His Brilliant Change 
of Fortune in Another Sphere. — Wliitney's Obscure Circumstances. — His Early Mechanical Genius. 
— Determined to Get an Education. — Goes to the South as a Teacher. — Change of Pursuits — Be- 
friended by General Greene's Widow. — Amateur Inventive Efforts. — Low State of Southern In- 
dustry. — Objection to Cotton-Raising. — 
Mrs. Greene's Apt Suggestion — Whit- 
ney's Characteristic Resolve. — Secret and 
Persevering Toil. — E.xciting Rumors as 
to His Purpose. — Great Expectations En- 
tertained. — Triumphant Success. — En- 
thusiasm of the Cotton-Growers. — His 
Machine Stolen from Him. — Infringe- 
ments upon His Patent. — Law-Suits, but 
no Redress for Him. — His Pathetic Let- 
ter to Fulton. — He Invents a Valuable 
Firearm. — Southern Strides in Wealth. 




" What Peter the Great did to make Russia dominant, 
Eli Whitney'8 invention of the Cotton-Gin has more than 
equaled in its relation to the progress and power of the 
United Stales."— Lord Macal'lay. 



EYOND all doubt or question, the 
invention of the cotton-gin, just at 
the close of the eighteenth century, 
was an event which most wonder- 
REsuLTs OF THE COTTON-GIN. fuUy accelcrated the high career of 

the United States, .in an industrial point of view, and, indeed, revolutionized, by an 
extraordinary impetus, the manufactures and commerce of the world. It may be re- 
garded, in a word, as the first key which was applied to the unlocking of those won- 
drous natural capabilities of the new-born republic, the continued development of 
which has given her such a foremost place, in respect to material and political 
power, among the nations of the earth. So direct is its identity with the facts and 
causes which have led to the country's prodigious progress during the hundred years 
of its national history, that he who would trace to their primary source — with even 
ordinary philosophical acuteness of judgment — those momentous events, whether 
material, political, military, or social, which have distinguished the greater part of 
that century, may well pause longest and take his latitude at this point. Such, in- 
deed, is the great national consequence accorded by historians to this machine, that, of 



1 



154 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the thousands upon thousands of inven- 
tions and discoveries recorded in the 
patent office at Washington, many of 
them, of course, of ahnost incalcuhible 
value, only some half a dozen, or less, 
are comprised in the ' chronology of 
important dates,' in the New American 
Cyclopedia, — that marvelous portrayal of 
man and civilization during the known 
ages. First among the triumphs of Amer- 
ican ingenuity thus made conspicuously 
historical, is the invention and introduc- 
tion of the cotton-gin, in 1793, which is 
the subject of this article. That it should 
have a place among the few of its kind 
capable of coming within the plan and 
scope of this volume, will be at once ap- 
parent. 

Before entering into the more elaborate 
detail.s pertaining to this remarkable ma- 
chine and its bearing upon American 
industry and commerce, it may be useful 
to give, in the first place, a sketch in brief 
of the career of Eli Whitney, whose genius 
gave to his country, and to mankind, this 
great boon. At an early age, he gave in- 
dications of that mechanical and inventive 
talent, for which he was afterwards so 
greatly celebrated. His father was a 
farmer in Westborough, Massachusetts, a 
village where only the ordinary advantages 
of a common-school education were availa- 
ble. But Mr. Whitney was desirous of 
the benefits of a more complete course of 
instruction, and at the age of twenty-three 
entered the college in New Haven. Ho 
received the honors of this institution in 
1792, and soon after went to Georgia, in 
the expectation of opening a private 
school, and devoting himself to that profes- 
sion. In this expectation he was disajv 
pointed, for, on arriving at the place of his 
destination, he was informed that another 
tutor was already filling the station he ex- 
pected to occujiy. 

Having traveled from the north, to Sa- 
vannah, in company with Mrs. Greene, the 
widow of the revolutionary general and 
hero of that name, he received from that 
lady a courteous invitation to make her 
house his home, while engaged in his 



course of studies preparatory to entering 
the legal profession. This most favorable 
offer, so timely in view of his shattered 
health and scanty means, he gratefully 
availed liimself of. 

It was on the occasion of a social gath- 
ering of some neighbors and others, one 
afternoon, at the residence of Mrs. Greene, 
— a party including several planters of 
distinction, a few of whom had served as 
officers under General Greene's command, 
— that Whitney first resolved to rouse his 
genius to its utmost accomplishment. 
Among other remarks made by the gentle- 
men present, on the occasion referred to, 
was one in regard to the depressed condi- 
tion of the agricultural interests of Geor- 
gia, namely, that since all the lands in 
that region, not suitable for the cultivation 
of rice, were eminently favorable for the 
production of heavy cotton-crops, it was 
exceedingly to be regretted that no means 
existed of cleansing the green seed-cotton, 
or of separating it from its seed, in a 
manner .sufiicientlj" thorough to make it 
profitable, — it being almost useless, in the 
absence of such a method or contrivance, 
to undertake to grow cotton-crops for sale, 
because only a pound of this green seed- 
cotton could be cleaned and made mer- 
chantable, per day, by a single laborer, 
and the price obtainable for it, when thus 
prepared, was but a few cents per pound. 

In response to these suggestions, Mrs. 
Greene, with true womanlj' perceptions, 
and knowing Whitney's ingenious turn of 
mind in the sphere of mechanics, naively 
remarked, "Well, gentlemen, apply to my 
young friend, Mr. Whitney, — he can make 
anything ; " and, suiting the action to the 
word, she led them into the room where 
her tambour or embroidery-frame was 
kept, together with some other ingenious 
contrivances, and exhibited them to the 
company as evidences of Whitney's sin- 
gular skill. On being introduced to these 
gentlemen, and entering into conversation 
with them on the subject, Mr. ^^^litney 
was obliged to inform them that he had 
never seen cotton nor cotton-seed in his 
life! 



156 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



In a few months, he had advanced so 
far and so successfully with his machine, 
as to leave no doubt of his having achieved 
a complete triumph. In uiknowledgment 
of Mrs. Greene's many and valued atten- 
tions to him during his labors, and her 
steadfast interest in his fortunes, the grat- 
ifying privilege was accorded her, on a 
day duly appointed, of exhibiting to an 
invited assembly of guests, principally 
planters, a model of the saw-gin that was 
to produce such a mighty change. Their 
astonishment was almost unbounded, 
when, on examining the principle and 
working of the instrument, they found 
that more cotton could be separated from 
the seed in one day by the labor of a single 
hand, than could be done, in the usual 
manner, in many months. Enthusiasm 
over such a result, a]id in view of such a 
prospect, was very natural. 

The report of Mr. Whitney's invention 
spread verv rapidly throughout the South, 
exciting intense" interest, and the planters 
in especial were eager to see a machine 
that promised such incalculable benefits to 
themselves and to the nation. For a time, 
however, Whitney declined showing the 
gin, as it was not entirely perfected, and 
because it might bo imitated by others, 
and he be deprived in tliat way of his 
right to a patent. But, so great was the 
excitement to which the people had been 
wrought up, and so tempting was the 
chance whicli presented itself to the un- 
principled, to appropriate to themselves 
the fruits of other men's toils, that the 
building in which Whitney carried on his 
labors was actually broken into, one night, 
by a party of lawless individuals, and the 
instrument secretly carried off. Thus it 
was that several machines were constructed 
on the basis of Whitney's invention, and 
indeed varying but little from the original, 
though it was artfully attempted to have 
the deviation sufficiently obvious to escape 
the penalties of imitation. 

It may well bo supposed that the vari- 
ous lawsuits growing out of the infringe- 
ments upon his rights, was an exhausting 
draft upon Mr. Whitney's funds. But, in 



addition to this drawback upon his enter- 
prise, there befell him the successive 
calamities of prolonged sickness, the 
destruction of liis manufacturing estab- 
lishment by fire, and, worse than all, the 
assertion on the part of certain unfriendly 
persons, that the use of the machine ought 
to he abandoned, because it greatly in- 
jured the fiber of the cotton. The testi- 
mony of some of the British manufacturers 
was industriously- circulated, to the effect 
that the old roller-gin, which ground the 
seed to impalj)ability, was preferable to 
that which separated the seed from the 
staple, at the sacrifice of its quality ! And 
here it maj' be of interest to state, that, in 
order to overcome the difficulty of separat- 
ing the seed from the wool by hand, a 
rude hand-mill, or roller-gin, was at an 
earlj- period substituted, in some parts of 
India and China, by whicli from forty to 
sixty-five pounds could be cleaned in a 
day. After this, the cotton was further 
cleaned from dirt and knots by 'bowing.' 
A large bow being placed in a heap of 
cotton, the string was made to vibrate ]iow- 
erfull\', thus dispersing and cleaning the 
heap. These means, employed from re- 
mote times in eastern countries, were also 
formerly used bj' American growers. 
Much of the sea-island cotton is still sepa- 
rated from its seeds bj' rollers constructed 
on a large scale, and worked by horses, 
steam, or water. These rollers are of 
wood, and revolve rapidly in contact with 
each other; as they do so, a sort of comb 
with iron teeth acts on the cotton as it 
passes between them, and detaches the 
seeds, which fly off like sparks in all direc- 
tions. Particles of seeds which escape and 
pass through with the cotton, are removed 
by hand. The cotton is then whisked 
about in a light wheel, and, when well 
winnowed, it is conveyed to the packing- 
house, and forced into bags by means of 
screws, until each bag contains the requi- 
site number of pounds. But short-stapled 
cotton cannot be properly cleaned by this 
process ; the seeds are so firmly attached 
to the wool, that a more powerful machine 
is needed, — and heretheutilty of the saw- 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



157 



gin over the roller-contrivance is manifest. 
The cotton is put into a long and narrow 
hopper, one side of which is formed by a 
grating of strong parallel wires, one-eighth 
of an inch apart. Close to the hopper is a 
roller set with circular saws, an inch and a 
half apart. These, as they revolve, pass 
within the grating of the hopper to a cer- 
tain depth, and seize by their teeth on the 
locks of cotton, dragging them tlirough the 
wires, which are not wide enough apart to 
allow the seeds to pass also. The cotton 
is afterwards swept from the saws by a 
revolving cylindrical brush. Thus the 
separation is effected in a cheap, easy, and 
rapid manner. At first, Whitney used 
bent wires or teeth, like those of the 
common card, but much larger and 
stronger, and these were placed in rows on 
a revolving cylinder. The cotton was 
separated from this cj'linder by a frame of 
parallel wires ; as the cylinder revolved, 
the teeth extending through the wire- 
frame caught the cotton and drew it 
through the grating, but the seeds being 
too large to pass between the wires, were 
of course separated from the fiber. These 
teeth, however, being found too weak to 
pull the cotton from the seed without be- 
coming bent or broken, Whitney substi- 
tuted a circular saw in their place. The 
teeth of the saw being large, and shaped 
like the beak of a bird, had more strength 
and were equally effective. 

So serious an objection as that brought 
by the British manufacturers, namely, that 
the operation of this machine injured the 
quality of the cotton, was a most disheart- 
ening one to Mr. Whitney and his part- 
ner, Mr. Miller, for, on its truth or falsity, 
their fortune and fate depended. For a 
time, the process of patent ginning was 
quite at a stand ; and, indeed, little was 
heard of it by the originators, except the 
condolence of a few real friends, who ex- 
pressed their regret that so promising an 
invention had entirely failed. Of the in- 
ventor's state of mind, as well as the con- 
dition of his purse, at this time, some idea 
may be formed from a letter written by 
Whitney, in the autumn of 1797, in which 



he says: 'The extreme embarrassments 
which have for a long time been accumu- 
lating upon me are now become so great 
that it will be impossible for me to strug- 
gle against them many days longer. It 
has required my utmost exertions to exist, 




without making the least progress in our 
business. I have labored hard against the 
strong cui-rent of disappointment, which 
has been threatening to carry us down the 
cataract ; but I have labored \\'ith a shat- 
tered oar, and struggled in vain, unless 
some speedy relief is obtained. Life is 
but short, at best, and six or seven years 
out of the midst of it is, to him who makes 
it, an immense sacrifice. My most unre- 
mitted attention has been directed to our 
business. I have sacrificed to it other 
objects, from which, before this time, I 
might certainly have gained twenty or 
thirty thousand dollars. My whole pros- 
l^ects have been embarked in it, with the 
expectation that I should, before this time, 
have realized something from it.' Against 
all opposition, the machine finally became 
appreciated according to its merits, and, 
though the country was flooded with imi- 
tations, — against the manufacturers of 
which, it seemed almost impossible to 
obtain any redress or protection in the 
courts of law, — a large demand set in, and 



158 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Wliitne3''s golden visions appeared likely i 
to be realized. 

At the suggestion made to them by 
some of their business friends, Miller and 
Whitney were induced, in view of the 
public benefit that would accrue to the 
cotton-growing states, by the general and 
inexpensive introduction of the saw-gin, to 
offer the exclusive disposal of the machine 
in South Carolina to the legislature of 
that state, which offer was finally accepted ; 
the sum paid to the inventors, for this 
privilege, being fifty thousand dollars. 
Tiiough this sum was only one-half of that 
which had originally- been fixed upon bj' 
the patentees, it seems to have given quite 
a zest to Mr. Whitney's feelings and an- 
ticipations, for he wrote in relation to the 
new arrangement : ' The use of the machine 
here (in South Carolina) is amazingly ex- 
tensive, and the value of it beyond all 
calculation. It may, without exaggera- 
tion, be said t" have raised the value of 
seven-eighths of all the three southern 
states from fifty to one hundred per cent. 
We get but a song for it in comparison 
with the worth of the thing; but it is ir- 
curing something. It will enable Miller 
and Whitney to pay all their debts, and 
divide something between them. It es- 
tablishes a precedent that will be valuable 
as resi)ects our collections in other states, 
and I think there is now a fair jjrospect 
that I shall in the event realize property 
enough to rendia me comfortable, and, in 
some measure, independent.' It was not, 
however, without niuih trouble and litiga- 
tion, that Whitney realized the fulfillment 
of this contract. 

But the expense involved in numerous 
suits at law against the encroachers upon 
his patent, was more than the jjrofits 
j-ielded by the sales, and these struggles 
and expenditures, and constantly-recurring 
discouragements, sent Jlr. Miller to a j)re- 
mature grave, at the (;lose of 1S0,'5. In the 
year 1812, Mr. Whitney applied to con- 
gress for a renewal of his patent, in the 
hope of still receiving some substantial 
benefit from his invention. Hut the 
southern delegation generally — though 



with some honorable exceptions — were op- 
posed to it ; which was of course the more 
unexpected, as well as wounding, in view 
of the immense advantage of the machine 
to that part of the United States. In 
regard to this last-mentioned point, no tes- 
timonj- could be more weighty or emj)hatic 
in the affirmative than that by Judge 
Johnson, an eminent South Carolinian, 
and, at the time of speaking, a judge of 
the United States supreme court : — ' The 
whole interior of the southern states (these 
are the words of Judge Johnson, as judi- 
cially uttered) was languishing, and its 
inhabitants emigrating for want of some 
object to engage their attention, and em- 
ploy their industry, when the invention of 
this machine at once opened views to them 
which sot the whole country- in active 
motion. From childhood to age, it has 
presented to us a lucrative employment. 
Individuals who were depressed with pov- 
erty, and sunk in idleness, have suddenly 
risen to wealth and respectability. Our 
debts have been paid off. Our capitals 
have increased, and our lands trebled 
themselves in value. We cannot express 
the weight of the obligation which the 
country owes to this invention. The ex- 
tent of it cannot now be seen. Some faint 
presentiment may be formed from the re- 
flection that cotton is rapidly sui>planting 
wool, flax, silk, and even furs, in manufac- 
tures,- and may one day profitably supply 
the use of specie in our East India trade. 
Our sister states also participate in the 
benefits of this invention; for, beside af- 
fording the raw- material for their manu- 
facturers, the bulkiness and quantity of 
the article afford a valuable employment 
for their shipping.' 

Such w-as the testimony borne by the 
highest possible authority, in regard to 
the wonderful value and effect of this in- 
vention. And yet, though full a dozen 
years had elapsed since Whitney had 
staked his all upon the machine, and was 
even now pleading for redress against the 
piracies committed upon his rights and 
pr(>i)erty, he was actually a poor man, 
struggling against remorseless fate. Mr. 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



159 



Wliitney, in a letter almost pathetic in its 
rehearsal of his wrongs, addressed to 
Robert Fulton, the inventor of the first 
successful steamboat, remarks, that 'the 
difficulties with which he had to contend 
originated, princijsally, in the want of a 
disposition in mankind to do justice. The 
invention was new and distinct from every 
other; it stood alone. It was not inter- 
woven with anything before known ; and 
it can seldom happen that an invention is 
so strongly marked, and can be so clearly 
and specifically identified ; and I have 
always believed that I should have had no 
difficulty in causing my rights to be re- 
spected, if it had been less valuable, and 
been used only by a small portion of the 
community. But the use of this machine 
being immensely profitable to almost every 
planter in the cotton districts, all were in- 
terested in trespassing upon the patent 
right, and each kept the other in counte- 
nance. Demagogues made themselves 
popular by misrepresentation and un- 
founded clamors, both against the right, 
and the law made for its protection. 
Hence there arose associations and combi- 
nations to oppose both. At one time, few 
men in Georgia dared to come into court 
and testify to the most simple facts within 
their knowledge, relative to the use of the 
machine. In one instance, I had great 



difficulty in proving that the machine had 
been used in Georgia, although, at the 
same moment, there were three separate 
sets of this machinery in motion within 
fifty yards of the building in which the 
court sat, and all so near that the rattling 
of the wheels was distinctly heard on the 
steps of the court-house.' Surely, few 
men of genius have rendered so great ben- 
efits to their country, by means of an in- 
vention, who have been so heartlessly 
treated and so poorly remunerated. De- 
spairing of ever realizing an adequate 
return, therefore, for his cotton-gin, Whit- 
ney applied his inventive skill to the im- 
proved manufacture of firearms, in which 
he was very successful, and, having ob- 
tained valuable contracts from the govern- 
ment for his improved muskets, he 
ultimately acquired a fortune, — a strange 
but most deserved sequel to his hitherto 
checkered career. 

The progress and value of the cotton 
production in the United States, under the 
impetus given to it by Whitney's inven- 
tion, may be characterized as simply 
prodigious ; and, in the mind of the philo- 
sophic statesman and student, the story of 
the cotton-gin will forever weave itself, 
most intimately and wonderfully, with 
those great themes and events which make 
wg the nation's history. 



XIY. 

THE FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURRECTION IN PENNSYL- 
VANIA.— 1794. 



Violent Resistance to the United States Excise I^ws. — Monster Meetings and Inflammatory Appeals 
— Officials and Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tarred, and Feathered. — Intense Excitement in all 
the States. — Wasliington Declares that tlie Union is in Peril and Heads an Army to Meet the Crisis. 
— Precipitate Fliglit of tlie Armed Rebels. — Congressional Tax on Spirits. — Cry of " Tyranny ! " from 
Distillers. — Western Pennsylvania in a Blaze. — Extent of her Whiskey Interests. — Ambitious Politi- 
cians at Work — A Revolt Incited by Them. — Bradford the Chief Desperado. — Reign of Terror 
Inaugurated. — Tax-Collectors Roughly Handled. — Tlie Incendiary's Torch. — "Tom the Tinker's" 
Ruffianism. — Fury of the Factionists. — Firm Courage of Loyal Men. — Perplexity of the United States 
Government. — Presidential Proclamation. — Law and Order to be Maintained. — Troops Summoned 
into Service. — Prompt and Patriotic Response. — The Olive Branch vs. the Sword. — Bradford Scorns 
Conciliation. — Washington's Mind Made Up. — Prevents the Effusion of Blood. 



** HtTv'a to your fery goot health. 
And tamaU whiuky duty 1 "— Soico or the Tiues. 




HE yoar 1794 is distinguished in American history by a remark- 
able revolt among a jiortion of the inhabitants of Pennsylvania, 
,j and which is known as the Whiskey' Insurrection. In 
1791, congress had enacted laws laying excise duties upon 
spirits distilled within the United States. This tax excited 
great and general opposition, but nowhere else was such vio- 
lence exhibited in resisting the execution of the law, as in the 
western counties of Pennsylvania, where the crops of grain 
were so over-abundant, that, in the absence of an adequate 
market for its sale, an immense quantity of the cereal was 
distilled into whiskey, — the far-famed " Monongahela," so 
called from the name of the principal river of the region where 
the manufacture was carried on. It was insisted upon, by 
these people, that an article produced so exclusively, by an 
isolated community, as their sole and necessary dependence, 
ought not to be taxed for the support of the federal government; and this ojiinion 
they adiiered to — as the following pages will be found to show — with a ten.icity 
worthy of a better cause, notwithstanding the day of temperance societies had not 
then dawnefL 

Public meetings were held in all the chief towns, at which the action of congress 
was loudly denounced as oppression to be battled against to the very last extremity ; 



-<^^ 



CAUSES OF TIIK WHISKEY IS- 
StJRUECTION IK PENN. 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



161 




declaring, too, that any 
person who had accepted 
or might accept an office 
under government, in or- 
der to carry the law into 
effect, should be regarded 
as an enemy of his country, 
to be treated with contempt 
and total non-intercourse, 
official and personal. The 
federal government was 
scoffed at, its coercive 
authority disavowed; thus, 
with the motto, "Libvrfij 
and No Excise ! " the ball 
of rebellion rolled on. 

It was at this stage in 
the progress of affairs, and 
only one day preceding the 
assembling of an import- 
ant meeting of malcon- 
tents of Pittsburg, that 
the tax collector for the 
counties of Alleghany and 
Washington made his ap- 
pearance. Aware of his 
business, a party of men, 
armed and disguised, way- 
laid him at a place on 
Pigeon Creek, in Washing- 
ton county, seized, tarred 
and feathered him, cut off 
his hair, and deprived him 
of his horse, obliging him 
to decamp on foot in that 
ludicrous and painful con- 
dition. In attempting to 
serve legal processes ujion 
the j)erpetrators of this out- 
rage, the marshal's dejiuty 
was also seized, whipped, 
tarred and feathered ; and, 
after having his money and 
horse taken from him, the 
ruffians blindfolded and led 
him into the depths of the 
forest, where he was tied 
and left to his fate. He 
was fortunately discovered 
in season, and rescued, by 
some friends. 



162 



OUR FIKST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



Not long after, a |ierson of the name of 
Roseberry underwent tlie humiliating pun- 
ishment of tarring and feathering, with 
some attendant aggravations, for having 
in conversation hazarded the very natural 
and just, but unpalatable remark, that the 
inhabitants of a county could not reasona- 
bly expect protection from a government 
whose laws they so strenuously opposed. 
So great, too, was the audacity' of the per- 
petrators of these outrages, that an armed 
banditti of them ventured to seize and 
carry off two persons who were witnesses 
against the rioters in the case of Wilson, 
in order to prevent their giving testimonj- 
in a court then sitting, or about to sit. 

On the part of the executive, such open 
defiance of the laws, and of the authority 
of the government, was believed to imperi- 
ously require that the strength and eflS- 
ciency of those laws should be tried, by 
the governing power. Accordingly, Wash- 
ington issued his proclamation, emphati- 
cally condemning the lawless acts and pro- 
ceedings, warning all to return at once to 
their allegiance, and assuring them that 
the laws should be executed at anj- hazard. 
Against the leaders in some of the out- 
rages which had been committed, bills of 
indictment were found in a court of the 
United States, upon which process was 
directed to issue, and, at the same time, 
process was also issued against a great 
number of non-complying distillers. 

This proclamation not producing the 
desired effect, President Washington next 
endeavored to prevent the necessity of 
having recourse to active military meas- 
ures, by making it the iiifurest of the dis- 
tillers to pay the dutj'. To this end, in 
addition to the prosecutions instituted 
against delinquents, the spirits distilled in 
the counties opposing the law were ordered 
to be seized on their way to market, by 
the officers of the revenue, and the con- 
tractors for the army were directed to 
purchase only the spirits on which the 
duties had been paid. But, whatever were 
the inclinations of the distillers^-or some 
of them, — the fear of an infuriated pojiu- 
lace prevented a compliance with these 



orders; and the factionists continued to 
take encouragement from the lenity of the 
executive, in the expectation of ultimate 
success. By violent threats they still 
kept the marshal from serving his precepts, 
committed numerous outrages upon the 
friends of government, and perfected their 
organization into military bands, to resist 
any force that might be sent to subject 
them to the laws. They styled their acts, 
" mending the still" 

It is not to be doubted that this inflamed 
state of the public mind was greatly ag- 
gravated by the ambitious designs and 
intemperate speeches of a few leading 
men. Conspicuous among the friends of 
the malcontents were Bradford, JIarshall, 
Smilie, Brackenridge, Husbands, Findlev, 
and Gallatin. The first-named, David 
Bradford, was the chief agitator, and led 
in person the desperate bands, in their 
career of violence. He was an old settler 
in Washington county, had accumulated a 
large fortune, and, being bold and unscru- 
pulous in his politics, wielded a powerful 
influence over a certain class. Those asso- 
ciated with him were men of decided abil- 
ity, being of Scotch or Irish birth, and 
possessing their dominant characteristics 
of nationality. 

In the early part of 1794, the liostility 
of the law-breakers seemed to become more 
implacable and demonstrative. William 
Richmond, who had given information 
against some of the rioters, in the affair 
of Wilson, had his barn burnt, with all its 
valu.able contents; and the same thing 
hap]>ened to Robert Shawan, a distiller, 
who had been among the first to comply 
with the Jaw, and who had always spoken 
favorably of it. These instances were 
multiplied. The law-abiding inhabitants 
were dogged and pursued by disorderly 
persons, their houses and distilleries 
broken into, property destroyed, conflagra- 
tions kindled, machinery disabled, life 
threatened. 

June being the month for receiving an- 
nual entries for stills, endeavors were used 
to o]ien offices in Westmoreland and 
Washington, where it had hitherto been 



GREAT A^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



163 



found impracticable. AVith much pains 
and difficulty, places were at last procured 
for the purpose. 

That in Westmoreland was repeatedly 
attacked by armed men, in the night, who 
frequently fired upon it ; but it was de- 
fended with so much determination and 
perseverance, as to have been maintained 
during the remainder of the month. That 
in Washington, after rejjeated attemjjts, 
was suppressed. 

Charging himself with the service of the 
processes officially intrusted to him, the 
marshal rejiaired in person to the country 
which was the scene of these disorders. 
He continued unmolested in the jserfoi'm- 
ance of this duty, until, being seen in 
company with General John Neville, in- 
spector of the county and a zealous advo- 
cate of the tax, they were assaulted on the 
road by a body of armed men, who fired, 
but without doing anj^ injury. Early the 
next morning, a party attacked the house 
of General Neville, the inspector, but he 
defended himself bravely and successfullj^. 

Apprehending, however, that the busi- 
ness would not terminate here, Neville 
made application bj- letter to the judges, 
generals of militia, and sheriff of the 
countj', for protection. A reply to his 
application, from John Wilkins, Jr., and 
John Gibson, magistrates and militia-offi- 
cers, informed him that the laws could not 
be executed, so as to afford him the pro- 
tection to which he was entitled, oi.N-ing to 
the too general combination of the people 
in that part of Pennsylvania to oppose the 
revenue law ; adding, that they would take 
every step in their power to bring the 
rioters to justice, and would be glad to 
receive information relative to the individ- 
uals concerned in the attack on his house, 
that prosecutions might be commenced 
against them — at the same time expressing 
regret that, should the citizens of the 
county be ordered out, in support of the 
civil authority, very few could be gotten 
who were not of the party of the rioters. 

The day following, the insurgents re- 
assembled with a considerable augmenta- 
tion of numbers, amounting to at least 



five hundred, and, on the seventeenth of 
July, renewed their attack upon the house 
of the inspector, who, in the interval, had 
taken the precaution of calling to his aid 
a small detachment from the garrison of 
Fort Pitt, which, at the time of the attack, 
consisted of eleven men, who had been 
joined by Major Abraham Kirkpatrick, a 
friend and connection of the inspector. 
The leader of the insurgents was a despe- 
rado named John Holcroft, or " Tom the 
TinJcei;" as he was familiarly called. 

There being scarcely a prospect of ef- 
fectual defense against so large a number 
as then ajipeared, and as the inspector had 
everything to apprehend for his jierson, if 
taken, it was judged advisable that he 
should withdraw from the house to a place 
of concealment ; Major Kirkpatrick gen- 
erouslj' agreeing to remain with the eleven, 
intending, if practicable, to make a capit- 
ulation in favor of the property, or, if un- 
succes.sful, to defend it as long as possible. 

A j)arley took jjlace, under cover of a 
flag, which was sent by the insurgents to 
the house, with a demand that the inspec- 
tor should come forth, renounce his office, 
and stipulate never again to accept an 
office under the same laws. To this it was 
replied, that the inspector had left the 
house upon their first approach, and that 
the place to which he had retired was un- 
known. They then declared that they 
must have whatever related to his office; 
to which, answer was made they might 
send persons, not exceeding six, to search 
the house, and take away whatever jiapers 
they could find, pertaining to the office. 
But, not satisfied with this, they insisted, 
unconditionally, that the armed men who 
were in the house for its defense, should 
march out and ground their arms. Major 
Kirkpatrick peremptorily refused, consid- 
ering it and representing it to them as a 
proof of a design to destroy the property ; 
and this refusal put an end to the parlej'. 

Brisk firing now took place between the 
insurgents and the party in the house, 
lasting for about an hour, till the assail- 
ants, having set fire to the neighboring 
and adjacent buildings, eight in number, 



104 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



the intenseness of tlio lieat, and the danger 
of an immediate communication of fire 
to the house, obliged the brave Kirkpat- 
rick and his small party to come out and 
surrender themselves. 

Desirous of ascertaining their full 
strength, and also to discover anj' secret 
enemies that might remain unsuspected in 
the midst of these treasonable movements, 
Uradford and his comrades proceeded with 
a high and unsparing hand. Monster 
meetings of friends and sympathizers were 




DAVID DRADFORD. 

appointed, to determine the first question; 
and, to ohtain satisfaction in regard to the 
second, the mail between Pittsburg and 
Philadelphia was stopped by armed men, 
who cut it open, and took out the letters 
which it contained. In some of these 
letters, a direct disapprobation of the vio- 
lent measures which had been adopted 
W.13 openly avowed. Upon acquiring thus 
the niimes of their opponents, messengers 
were sent to Pittsburg, where the writers 
of the offensive letters resided, demanding 
the banishment of the offenders. A 
promjit obedience to these demands was 
unavoidable. Another plan was, for seiz- 
ing the United States military stores at 
Pittsburg, and using them in carrying on 
the revolt. In order to accomplish this, a 
mammoth gathering of the anarchists was 
appointed to be held on Braddock's field, 
August first. This call was made in the 
form usual for militia musters, and all 
were notified to come armed and equipped. 
Seven thotisand men answered to this call, 
and Bradford, assuming the office of major- 
general, reviewed the dense mass of troops. 
The main purpose, however, of this assem- 
blage, namely, to march upon Pittsburg, 



take possession of Fort Pitt and the 
United States arsenal, and then form an 
independent state, or sovereignty, com- 
posed of the counties west of the Alleghany 
range, had been divulged to few, and, 
upon farther consultation, it was found 
that the desperation of some of the leaders 
failed them at this point, and the project 
was abandoned. But it was determined to 
march to Pittsburg at any rate, — a march 
that was attended by a wholesale intimi- 
dation of the disaffected, the robbing of 
houses, and the burning of buildings. But 
the greatest popular demonstration made 
of the law-breakers' strength, was the 
meeting at Parkinson's Ferry, where there 
assembled representatives of the whole 
vast region in insurrection, and, in the 
mad enthusiasm of the hour, pledged them- 
selves to folloiv, sixteen thousand strong, 
under the banner of Bradford, in resisting 
and overturning the government. There 
were at this meeting many able men, but 
the attendant throng was of a far different 
class. 

The president had now, for three years, 
patiently awaited the effect of conciliatory 
measures, but these had only continued to 
render the opposition more desperate. He 
therefore had only to choose between the 
alternative of permitting the prostration 
of the government, or to call out its force 
in support of the laws. It was not in the 
nature of Washington to allow the former. 

The subject, in all its momentous con- 
sequences, was laid by President Wash- 
ington before the cabinet, for final action, 
and General Mifflin, the governor of Penn- 
sylvania, was on this occiision called into 
the council. Their unanimous desire was 
to avoid, if possible, a resort to arms and 
bloodshed, and they therefore advised that 
commissioners should be sent to the insur- 
gents to warn them of their danger, and to 
offer a pardon of past offenses, on condi- 
tion of future obedience to the laws. It 
was also advised that a proclamation 
should be issued, in conformity to the act 
of congress, commanding the insurgents 
to disperse by a given day. All agreed 
that a crisis had arrived which was testing 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



165 



the strength and practicability of republi- 
can institutions. 

The president did not hesitate to do his 
duty. He could no longer see the laws 
prostrated, and the authority of the United 
States defied, without exerting the means 
of prevention. He resolved, therefore, to 
issue the proclamation, which, by law, was 
to precede the employment of force. This 
proclamation, issued August seventh, con- 
tained a brief but distinct recapitulation 
of the measures which had been adopted 
by the government, as well as the pro- 
ceedings on the part of the insurgents, and 
the preparatory steps which had been 
taken to authorize the executive to employ 
coercion — and which, though with the 
deepest regret, he had determined to do, 
in the interests of national jweservation 
and social order ; and commanding all 
persons being in the ijosition of insurgents, 
and all others whom it might concern, on 
or before the first day of the ensuing 
month of Sej^tember, to disperse and re- 
tire peaceably to their homes. 

On the same day of this proclamation, 
a requisition was made on the governors 
of New Jersej', Pennsylvania, Marj'land, 
and Virginia, for their several quotas of 
militia to comjaose an army of twelve or 
fifteen thousand men, who were to be im- 
mediately organized and prepared to march 
at a minute's warning. 

While the necessary steps were being 
taken to bring this force into the field, a 
last attempt was made to render its em- 
ployment unnecessarjr. To this end, the 
attorney-general of the United States, who 
was also a citizen of Pennsylvania, to- 
gether with Judge Yates, of the superior 
court, and Senator Ross of Pennsylvania, 
tvho was particularly pojnilar in the west- 
ern section, were deputed by the govern- 
ment to be the bearers of a general 
amnesty for jiast offenses, on the sole con- 
dition of future obedience to the laws. 

It having been deemed advisable that 
the executive of the state in which the 
insurrection was rampant should act in 
concert with that of the United States, a 
proclamation, similar in tone and spirit to 



that of the president, was now issued by 
Governor Mifflin, and commissioners were 
appointed by him to unite with those of 
the general government. 

But Bradford, whose sway over his fol- 
lowers was well nigh despotic, inspiring 
them with slavish terror, laughed at the 
government proclamation and measures, 
claimed that he could marshal an army 
that would scatter the federal force to the 
four winds, and, under the banner of 
" Liberty and No Excise — No Asylum for 
Coivards and Traitors !" the insurgent 
spirit waxed fiercer and more bold. At- 
tempts were made to embark the adjacent 
counties of Virginia in their cause, and 
their violence was extended to Morgan- 
town, at which place an inspector resided, 
who only saved himself by flight, and pro- 
tected his projserty by advertising, on his 
own door, that he had resigned his office. 
Similar excursions were made into the 
eastern counties of Pennsylvania. 

The great convention of malcontents at 
Parkinson's Ferry had, under the advice 
of Brackenridge, Marshall, Gallatin, and 
some others, appointed a committee of 
safety, of sixty members, who chose fifteen 
of their body to confer with the commis- 
sioners of the United States, and of Penn- 
sylvania. This committee was to receive 
proposals, but neither offer nor accept 
terms of settlement. 

In their report of the conference thus 
held, the committee expressed themselves 
in favor of accepting the accommodation 
offered by the government. But, though 
many of the insurgents, trembling at the 
extent of the conflagration they had kin- 
dled, were now disposed to yield, a vast 
number still continued, under Bradford's 
fiery lead, to go on in their revolutionary 
violence, and so the last door to reconcilia^ 
tion was shut. Meanwhile, the president's 
call for troojjs was being responded to in 
overwhelming numbers, under the jjatriotic 
lead of Governor ]\Iifflin. 

The president issued a second proclamar 
tion, Sej)tember 25, describing in terms of 
great energy the obstinate and perverse 
spirit with which the government's lenient 



166 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



propositions had been received, and de- 
claring his fixed determination, in virtue 
of the high and imperative duty inijiosed 
upon him b^- the constitution to "take care 
that the laws he faithfully executed," to 
reduce tlio refractory to obedience. 

On every side, tlie signals of war were 
now displayed ! The troops of New Jei-sey 
and Pennsylvania were directed to ren- 
dezvous at Bedford, and those of Maryland 
and Virginia at Cumberland, on the Poto- 
mac. The command of the expedition was 
given to General Henry Lee, of Virginia; 
and the governors of New Jersey and 
Pennsylvania commanded, under him, the 
militia of their respective states. The 
president, in person, pushed on for Phila- 
delphia, through deep roads and a three 
days' drenching rain, visiting, as com- 
mander-in-chief, each of the two grand 
divisions into which he had divided the 
forces. He had intended to continue to 
lead the army solely himself; but, ascer- 
taining that this would not be called for, 
and feeling confident that the force em- 
ployed must break down all resistance, he 
left General Hamilton, as his deputy, 
giving directions to Lee to march each 



division across the Alleghany mountains, 
meet on the other side, and act against the 
insurgents as circumstances might require. 
But, as had been sagaciously foreseen, the 




OBN. HBHBr L£E. 



greatness of the force prevented the effu- 
sion of blood. The rebellious hordes fled 
before such a demonstration, the clemency 
of the government was solicited, and sub- 
mission to every law freely promised. 
Some of the more evil disposed were &v- 
rested and tried, but pardon was ultimately 
extended to all. Bradford escaped to 
Spanish territory. And thus, in the 
words of Washington, was decided " the 
contest, whether a small proportion of the 
United States shall dictate to the whole 
Union." 



XV. 

FOUNDING AND ESTABLISHMENT OF THE NATIONAL 

CAPITAL.— 1799. 



Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding tlie Location. — First "Compromise" in Congress between the 
North and the South. — Final Removal of the Government and its Archives to Washington. — Official 
Observance of the Event. — Magnificent Site and Plan of the City. — Splendor of its Public Build- 
ings. — Congress First Sits in Philadelphia. — Need of a Permanent Capital. — National Dignity Involved. 
— Violent Agitation of tlie Subject. — Philadelphia and New York Proposed. — They are Objected to by 
the South — Northern Disunion Threats. — Schemes of Conciliation. — How tlie Question was Settled. 
— Sweetening Two Bitter Pills. — Jefferson's Graphic Account. — General Washington's Preference. — 
His Site on the Potomac Adopted. — Some Rather Personal Anecdotes. — Work of Laying Out the City. 
— Its Original Aspect and Condition — Early Trials of the President's Wife. — Construction of the Cap- 

. itol. — Its Corner-Stone Laid by Washington. — Congress in its New Halls. — Growth of the Metropolis. 
— The New Corner-Stone of 1851. 




" Where peeped the hut the palace towers i 
Where skimmed the bark the war-ship lowers ; 
Joy saity caroiB whore was alienee rude : 
And cultured thou&anda throng the aolitude. 



.EXT in importance to the founding of a free and independent 
nationality, and the inauguration of a supreme legislative and 
executive government, was the act of establishing a permanent 
capital, — one on a scale, and of a character, commensurate with 
the dignity and prospects of the new republic. Indeed, from as early a period as June, 
1783, when congress was virtually driven from its halls in Philadelphia by the mutiny 
of a part of the Pennsylvania line, the necessity was very evident of some place being 
fixed upon where the government of the Union might at least be secure from violence 
and insult. As this remarkable and untoward circumstance was, perhaps, one of the 
most notable in its bearing upon subsequent events, in this connection, it may be worth 
while to recite some of its chief features. While the patriot army, encamped under 
the eye of Washington, bore their hardships and privations without ilinching, and, at 
the close of the struggle, in 1783, returned quietly, though poor and unpaid, to their 
homes, some of the newly-recruited soldiers of Pennsylvania, stationed at Lancaster, 
suddenly mutinied and set off in a body for Pliiladeljihia, to demand redress of fancied 
grievances froiii the legislature of the state. Arriving at that citj-, they were joined 
by a force from the barracks, and proceeded on the second of June with beat of drum 
and fixed bayonets to the state house, where congress and the supreme executive council 
of Pennsylvania were both holding their sessions. After placing sentinels at all the 
doors, they sent in a written message, threatening the president and the council of the 
state to let loose an enraged soldierj' ujjon them, if their demands were not acceded to 
in twenty minutes. Although the resentments of this banditti were not directed par- 



168 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



ticularl\' against congress, the government 
of the Union was grossly insulted, and 
those who administered it were blockaded 
for several hours in the discharge of their 
duties, by an armed band. Fearing lest 
the authorities of I'ennsylvania might not 
be able to furnish adequate protection, it 
adjourned to meet within a few days at 
Princeton, — sending information, in the 
meantime, to Washington, of this outbreak. 
The latter immediately sent fifteen hun- 
dred men under General Howe to suppress 
the mutiny ; but before the detachment 
could reach Philadelphia, the mutiny was 
in a great degree subdued, and fortunately 
without bloodshed. 

When once the subject of definitel}- 
fixing upon a location for the seat of gov- 
ernment was before congress and the 
people, the question seemed to overshadow 
all others. Being in session at Princeton, 
under the circumstances above narrated, it 
was resolved hy congress that a building 
for the national legislature be erected near 
the Falls of the Delaware. 

The commissioners to lay out a to^vn on 
the Delaware reported their proceedings 
to congress, but no further steps were 
taken to carrj' the resolution into effect. 
Some were very strenuous for New York, 
others proposed some convenient place on 
the banks of the Susquehanna. To the 
latter proposition, southern members, 
among whom was Mr. JIadison, were un- 
alterably opposed. All admitted the im- 
portance of the step to be taken, involving, 
perhaps, the perpetuity of the government 
itself. 

At length, a compact respecting the 
temporary and i)erinanent seat of govern- 
ment was entered into between the friends 
of Philadelphia, and the Potomac, whereby 
it was stipulated that congress should 
hold its sessions in Philadeljjhia, for ten 
years, during which time, buildings for 
the accommodation of the government 
should be erected at some place, to be se- 
lected, on the Potomac, and which latter 
should become, on the expiration of the 
ten years, the permanent capital of the 
nation. This compromise having united 



the representatives of Pennsylvania and 
Delaware with the friends of the Potomac, 
in favor botli of the temporary and perma- 
nent locality which had been mutually 
agreed on between them, a majorit^v was 
thus finally secured in favor of the project, 
and a bill which was brought into the 
senate in conformity with this arrange- 
ment, passed both houses by small maJDr- 
ities, thougli, according to Judge Marshall, 
these majorities would have been larger, 
if necessary. 

But, as the final compromise briefly re- 
corded above shows, the die zvas cast, at 
last, to mutual satisfaction. How this was 
brought about, Jefferson's graphic, and, 
it may be, highl3--colorcd jiortraiture of the 
closing hour and result of the struggle will 
give some idea : ' The eastern members 
particularly, who, with Smith from South 
Carolina, were the principal gamblers in 
these scenes, threatened secession and dis- 
solution. Hamilton was in despair. As 
I was going to the president's, one day, I 
met him in the street. He walked me 
backwards and forwards before the jiresi- 
dent's door for half an hour. He painted 
pathetically' the temper into which the 
legislature had been wrought ; the disgust 
of those who were called the creditor 
states ; the danger of the secession of their 
members, and the separation of the states. 
He observed that the members of the ad- 
ministration ought to act in concert ; that 
though this question was not of my de- 
partment, yet a common duty should make 
it a common concern ; that the ]>rcsident 
was the center on which all administration 
questions ultimately rested, and that all of 
us should rally around him, and sup])ort, 
with joint efforts, measures apjiroved by 
him ; and that the question having been 
lost by a small majority only, it was prol>- 
able that an api)cal from me to the judg- 
ment and discretion of some of my friends, 
might effect a change in the vote, and the 
machine of government, now suspended, 
might be again set into motion. I told him 
that I was really a stranger to the whole 
subject ; that not having yet informed my- 
self of the system of finance adopted, I 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



169 



knew not how far this was a necessary se- 
quence ; that undoubted]}^, if its rejection 
endangered a dissohition of our Union at 
this incipient stage, I should deem that 
the most unfortunate of all consequences, 
to avert which all partial and temporary 
evils should be yielded. I proposed to 
him, however, to dine with me the nest 
day, and I would invite another friend or 
two, bring them into conference together, 
and I thought it impossible that reasona- 
ble men, consulting together coolly, could 
fail, by some mutual sacrifices of opinion, 
to form a compromise which was to save 
the Union. The discussion took place. I 
could take no part in it but an exhortatorj' 
one, because I was a stranger to the cir- 
cumstances which should govern it. But 
it was finally agreed, that whatever im- 
portance had been attached to the rejection 
of this proposition, the preservation of the 
Union and of concord among the states, 
was more important, and that, therefore, 
it would be better that the vote of rejec- 
tion should be rescinded, to effect which 
some members should change their votes. 
But it was observed that this pill would be 
peculiarly hitter to the southern states, 
and that some concomitant measure shoidd 
be adopted to sweeten it a little to them. 
There had before been projects to fix the 
seat of government either at Philadeljjhia, 
or at Georgetown on the Potomac ; and it 
was thought that, by giving it to Phila- 
delphia for ten j-ears, and to Georgetown 
permanently afterwards, this might, as an 
anodyne, calm in some degree the ferment 
which might be excited by the other meas- 
ure alone. So two of the Potomac mem- 
bers (IVhite and Lee, but AMiite with a 
revulsion of stomacli almost convulsive) 
agreed to change their votes, and Hamilton 
undertook to carry the other point. In 
doing this, the influence he had established 
over the eastern members, with the ageucv 
of Robert Morris with those of the middle 
states, effected his side of the engagement.' 
Thus it was that the assumption-bill was 
passed, and thus it was that the far more 
important measure was enacted, which 
provided — 



" That a district of teriiitory on the 
river Potomac, at some jilace between the 
mouths of the eastern branch and the 
Connogocheague, be, and the same is 
hereby, accepted, for the permanent seat 
of the government of the United States." 
In enduring honor of the father of his 
countrj', the name given to the projected 
city was Washington. 

From the beginning, General Washing- 
ton advocated the site which was finally 
fixed upon, and its establishment there 
was due in a large measure to his counsels 
and influence. It is related, though some- 
what questionable, that during the hot and 
angry discussion on the subject, in con- 
gress, pending the determination of a 
locality, a jaerson who was in company 
with Washington remarked, one day, — 

"I know very well where the federal 
city ought to be." 

" Where then would you put it, sir ? " 
was the serene inquiry of Washington. 

" It ought to be located in Philadelphia," 
was the reply. 

" Why are you sure it should be there ? " 

"For the most satisfactory of all rea- 
sons," was the sinister answer ; " because 
nearly the whole of my property lies there 
and in the neighborhood." 

In stern silence did Washington fasten 
his eye upon the man who thus dared the 
insolent insinuation that the president 
favored the location of the capital in its 
present site because it was near his Mount 
Vernon estates ; and the offender soon 
vanished out of sight. 

Another little anecdote in this connec- 
tion will be here given, as showing that 
" no sea is free from ripples." It was for 
many years traditional in the federal capi- 
tal, that one man was found not awed by 
the presence of the great founder of that 
city. Wliile the president was procuring 
the ground which was to be the seat of 
government, he had but little difficulty in 
obtaining the necessary releases, except in 
one instance. Mr. James Byrnes was the 
owner of a lot or tract which it was advis- 
able should be included in the plan. The 
general had various conferences with Mr. 



170 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Byrnes, who TV.1S especially obstinate, and, 
highly prizing, as he did, the tract in ques- 
tion, lliitly resisted all the reasonings and 
persuasions of the great man. Unused to 
opposition, Washington at last turned 
upon him and said, as only he could say 

it,— 

"Mr. James Byrnes! what would j-our 
land have been worth if I had not placed 
this city on the Potonuic ? " 

Byrnes was not at all crushed by this 
peculiar flanking argument on the part of 
the general ; but, undismayed, coolly 
turned to him and said, — 

" George Washington, what would you 
have been worth if you had not married 
the widow Custis ? " 

It will not do to judge of the nation's 
metropolis at that daj' by what it is now. 
At that time it was desolate in the ex- 
treme, with its long unimproved avenues 
and streets, its deep morasses, and its vast 
area covered with trees instead of houses. 
Mrs. Adams, the wife of President John 
Adams, who first occupied the Wliite 
House, in writing to a friend regarding 
the city and the presidential mansion at 
that period, sa3's : ' In the city are build- 
ings enough, if they were compact and 
finished, to accommodate congress and 
those attached to it, but as they are, I see 
no great comfort in them. The river, 
which runs up to Alexandria, is in full 
view of my window, and I can see the 
vessels as they pass and re-pass. The 
house is upon a grand and superb scale, 
re<iuiring about thirty servants to attend 
and keej) tlie apartments in projier order, 
and perform the ordinary business of the 
house and stables ; an establishment very 
well ])i-o[)ortioned to the president's salary. 
The lighting the apartments, from the 
kitchen to the parlors and chambers, is a 
ta.\ indeed; and the fires we are obliged 
to keep, to secure us from daily agues, is 
another very cheering comfort. To assist 
us in this great castle, and render less at- 
tendance necessary, bells are wholly want- 
ing, not one being hung through the 
whole house, and promises are all we can 
obtain. This is so great an inconvenience 



that I know not what to do, or how to do. 
If they will put me up some bells, and let 
me have wood enough to keep fires, 1 de- 
sign to be pleased. I could content m^-- 
self anywhere three months, but sur- 
rounded by forests, can 3'ou believe that 
wood is not to be had, because people can 
not be found to cut and cart it ? Briesler 
entered into a contract with a man to 
supply him with wood. A small jiart, a 
few cords only, has he been able to get. 
Most of that was expended to dry the walls 
of the house before we came in, and yes- 
terday the man tohl him it was impossible 
for him to i)rocure it to be cut and carted. 
He has had recourse to coals; but we can 
not get grates made and set. We have 
indeed come into a new country.' These 
and kindred incojiveniences were naturally 
incident to the new order of things ; they 
were only temporary. 

As has already appeared, it was reserved 
to Washington's immediate successor in 
the presidential office, to be the first occu- 
pant of the executive mansion. Neverthe- 
less, the superintending mind and hand of 
Washington are broadly identified with 
the conception not only of that elegant 
building, but of the capitol and other gov- 
ernment structures. On the fifteenth day 
of April, 1791, the Hun. Daniel Carroll 
and Dr. David Stewart sui)erintended the 
fixing of the first corner-stone of the Dis- 
trict of Columbia, at Jones's Point, near 
Alexandria; it was laid with all the usual 
masonic ceremonies, an address being also 
delivered on the occasion by Rev. James 
Muir. " May this stone," said the orator, 
" long commemorate the goodness of God 
in those uncommon events which have 
given America a name among nations. 
Under this stone may jealousy and selfish- 
ness be forever buried. From this stone 
may a superstructure arise whose glory, 
whose magnificence, whose stability, shall 
astonish the world." The south-east 
corner-stone of the cajiitol was laid by 
President Washington, September eight- 
eenth, 1793, with appropriate services, 
principal among which was the act of the 
commissioners, in their official capacity, 



GREAT AISTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



171 




■WASHIITGTON, D. C, IN 1876. 



when they delivered to President Wash- 
ington, who deposited it in the stone, a 
silver plate, inscribed as follows : — 

" Tliis south-east corner-stone of the 
Capitol of the United States of America, 
in the city of Washington, was laid on the 
18th day of September, 1793, in the eight- 
eenth year of American Independence, in 
the first year of the second term of the 
presidency of George Washington, whose 
virtues in the civil administration of his 
country have been as conspicuous and 
beneficial as his military valor and pru- 
dence have been useful in establishing her 
liberties, and in the year of Masonry 5793, 
by the President of the United States, in 
concert with the Grand Lodge of ILary- 
land, several lodges under its jurisdiction, 
and Lodge No. 22 from Alexandria, Vir- 
ginia." 

In the summer of 1800, the archives of 
the government were removed from Phila- 
delphia to Washington, and, the ensuing 
November, the north wing of the capitol 
was ready for the first sitting of congress 
in the new metropolis. John Cotton 



Smith, a distinguished member of this con- 
gress from Connecticut, speaking of the 
new city on his arrival there, savs : ' I 
can not sufficiently express my admiration 
of its local position.' 

It was at this session that formal recog- 
nition was made of the great national 
event of the founding and establishment 
of the national capital, by mutual congrat- 
ulatory addresses between the chief mag- 
istrate of the republic on the one part, and 
the senate and house of representatives on 
the other. 

A more beautiful site for a large city 
could scarcely have been selected. On a 
level plain some three miles in length, and 
varying from a quarter to two miles wide, 
and extending from the banks of the 
Potomac to a range of hills bounding 
the plain on the east, the new city was 
laid out. The idea of General Washington 
was that the capitol should be the center 
of the city, and that avenues should radi- 
ate from it at equi-distant points. To 
complete bis plan, the metropolis should 
have a million of inhabitants, instead of 



172 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



its present very moderate fraction of that 
number. Though not a seven-hilled city, 
Washington has, as well as Rome, its Ca- 
pitoline Hill, commanding views scarcely 




,,,. ,.;■.■ "I '" " "',11,' 

"tllUllliili'iu r^'i,"; 




4,-^jy 



less striking than those of the Eternal 
City. The general altitude of the city- 
plot is forty feet above the river, but this 
is diversified by irregular elevations, which 
serve to give variety and commanding 
sites for the public buildings. The plot is 
slightly aniiihitheatrical, the president's 
house on the west standing on one of 
the sides, and the capitol on the other, 
while the space between verges towards a 
point near the river. The president's 
house and the capitol stand centrally with 
regard to the whole, though situated at 
the distance of one mile from each other, 
the former forty-four feet above the Poto- 
mac, and the latter seventy-two feet. All 
the public buildings are on a scale of mag- 
nificence worthy of a great nation ; and 
the munificence of congress in this respect, 
as well as in regard to all that pertains to 
the cit^-, as the seat of government of the 
United States, is evident on every side. 
This is as it should be, and betokens the 
destined si)lendor, in point of architecture, 
avenues and parks, institutions of art, 
science and education, of the federal cap- 
ital. 

Starting from the capitol, the streets 
run from north to south and from east to 
west, their width var^-ing from ninety to 
one hundred and ten feet. There are be- 
side twenty avenues, named after the 



older states of the Union, which cross the 
streets at various angles and connect the 
most important points of the city, forming 
at their intersection with the streets and 
with each other numerous open 
spaces. These grand avenues are 
from one hundred and thirty to 
one hundred and sixty feet uni- 
form width; the principal of these 
is called in honor of the state of 
Pennsylvania, and extends from 
Georgetown to the Anacostia, a 
distance of four miles. It forms 
the main avenue of communication 
I>etween the capitol and the presi- 

J dent's house and the chief offices 
•_ of government. The capitol com- 
mands Marj'Iand, Delaware, New 
Jersey, Pennsj'lvania, Maine, and 
Missouri avenues ; the president's house, 
Pennsjdvania, New York, Vermont, and 
Connecticut avenues. The effect of this 
arrangement, taken in connection with 
the natural advantages of the site, is 
exceedingly fine — one of the finest in 
the world, for a city. From the hill, in 
especial, on which stands the capitol, the 




BVMBOLtO STATCF. OF AMERICA 8URM00NT1MO 
THE U. 8. CAPITOL. 

most noble view presents itself to the eye 
of the beholder that the imagination can 
conceive. On the fourth of Jul}-, 1851, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



173 



the corner-stone of that magnificent ex- 
tension of the capitol which has rendered 
it the most superb structure of its kind in 
the world, was laid with splendid ceremo- 
nial, including a commemorative oration 
by President Fillmore, assisted by Daniel 
Webster, secretary of state. In the stone 
was also deposited a record of the event, 
with the following impressive statement 
and invocation : — 

" If, therefore, it shall be hereafter the 
will of God that this structure shall fall 
from its base, that its foundation be up- 
turned, and this deposit brought to the 
eyes of men, be it then known that on 
this day the union of the United States of 
America stands firm, that their Constitu- 



tion still exists unimpaired and with all 
its original usefulness and glory, growing 
every day stronger and stronger in the 
affections of the great body of the Amer- 
ican people, and attracting more and more 
the admiration of the world. And all 
here assembled, whether belonging to 
public life or to private life, with hearts 
devoutly thankful to Almighty God for 
the preservation of the liberty and hapjsi- 
ness of the country, unite in sincere and 
fervent praj^er that this deposit, and the 
walls and arches, the domes and towers, 
the columns and entablatures, now to 
be erected over it, may endure forever ! 
God Save the United States of 
Aj«ekica ! " 



XVI. 

DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTOX.— 1799. 



His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Dying Words. — Fortitude and Serenity Through all 
His Sufferings. — He Calmly Announces His Approaching Dissolution Without a Murmur. — The 
Whole World Does Honor, hy Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted Worth and Immortal Fame. 
— He Anticipated an Early Death.— Ilis Invariably Good Health — Exposure in a Snow-Storni. — 
Takes a Fatal Cold.— Last Letter Written by His Hand. — Reads the Papers in the Evening. — Char- 
acteristic Reply to His Wife.— Passes a Restless Night.— Alarming Condition the Next Day.— Medi- 
cal Treatment of no Avail — (^ilU for His Two Wills, Burns One.— Affecting Scene at His Bedside. 

—Last Words, '"Tis Well ! "—Only One Day's Sickness. 
— Acute Laryngitis His Diseaie. — Burial in the Old Family 
Vault. — Tidings of His Death. — Tributes from Peoples and 
Kings — A Man Without a Parallel. — Last Page in His 
Journal. — Re-entombment in 1837. — A|ipcarance of His 
liemains. 




■ PoKtcrity will talk of WsBhinL'tnn with rcvrr«ncr, ai the foundtr of amat 
(ipin-. when my name ehall be lo«t in the vortex of rvvolution."-NAi'OLEOll Bo* 

AI-AIITE. 



\.>li I NG TON i.s dead!" were tho appalling words wliidi, with tbe 
fading out of the eighteenth century, brought home to every American heart the solemn 
lesson of the flight of time, and that " all men arc mortal." Totally nnjirepared as 
was his idolizing country for such an event, — no intelligence of the slightest illness of 
the great chieftain having preceded the bald announcement of his death and burial, — 
the tidings moved the nation's heart to profound amazement and sorrow, and deep an- 
swered unto deep, in the univer.sal wail of a bereaved and stricken republic. If a 
nation's prayers could have prevailed, Washington — Columbia's most honored, venerated, 
and renowned son, — would have been immortal on earth. But the ordinance of divine 
wisdom i.s, that the great boon of immortality shall be attained by man only through 
the portals of the grave, and to this decree the illustrious and tho InnuMe are alike sul> 
ject. Thus it was that Washington, the great Christian warrior and statesman — the 
greatest of good men and the best of great men — i)aid the debt of nature when he had 
scarcely reached the allotted period of three-score years and ten. 

The last end of so illustrious a personage as Washington, is fraught with an interest 
80 profound and memorable, as never to lose its freshness and value to successive 
generations. It apjioared to be the will of heaven that, so soon its the circum- 
stances of his country enabled it to dispense with the services of the man wjio, above 
all others, was its founder anil leading head, he should be summoned away from 
the scones of earth. That he was one who was accustomed to consider the brevity of 
life and the uncertainty of human affairs, is evident from the tenor of his conduct 
and conversation, and from occasional passages in liis correspondence. Thu.s, to the 
Hon. James M'Henry, secretary of war, he wrote, but a few months prior to his 
decease : " M^* greatest anxiety is to have all these concerns in such a clear and distinct 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



175 



form, that no reproach may attach itself to 
me wheu I have taken my departure for 
the land of spirits." He had also been 
making arrangements, just before the at- 
tack of illness which terminated in his 
death, for the construction of an improved 
family tomb, and in speaking of his plans 
to a relative at his side, he remarked, 
" This change, I shall make the first of all, 
for I may require it before the rest." He 
had also been heard to say, "I am of a 
short-lived family, and cannot expect to 
remain very long upon the earth." 

The month of December, 1799, found 
him in the enjoyment of excellent health. 
Indeed, Major Lewis, his nephew, writing 
of him as he appeared to himself and a 
friend at that time, says, " The clear and 
healthy flush on his cheek and his 
sprightly manner brought the remark from 
both of us, that we had never seen the 
general look so well." On the tenth of 
December, he completed the draught of an 
elaborate plan for the management of his 
lands, laying down the rotation of the 
crops for a succession of years in advance. 
The morning of that day was clear and 
calm, but the afternoon was lowering'. 
The next day, the eleventh, was bluster- 
ing and rainy ; and at night, as Washing- 
ton recorded in his diary, "there was a 
large circle round the moon." The morn- 
ing of the twelfth was overcast. Wash- 
ington's last letter was written that 
morning — it was to Hamilton, and princi- 
pally on the subject of a military academy. 
The events of that day, and of the two 
days following, are most minutely narrated 
by an eye-witness — Mr. Tobias Lear, — 
who was Washington's private secretary 
as well as valued friend; and with Mr. 
Lear's statement, are incorporated some 
facts from the pen of Washington's favor- 
ite kinsman, Mr. Custis : — 

On Thursday, December twelfth, the 
general rode out to his farms about ten 
o'clock, and did not return home till jiast 
three. Soon after he went out, the weather 
became very bad, rain, hail, snow falling 
alternately, with a cold wind. "Wlien he 
came in, I carried some letters to him to 



frank, intending to send them to the post- 
office in the evening. He franked the 
letters, but said the weather was too bad 
to send a servant to the office that even- 
ing. I observed to him, that I was afraid 
he had got wet. He said. No, his great 
coat had kept him dry. But his neck ap- 
peared to be wet, and the snow was 
hanging upon his hair. He came to din- 
ner, which had been waiting for him, 
without changing his dress. In the even- 
ing he appeared as well as usual. 

A heavy fall of snow took place on 
Friday, which prevented the general from 
riding out as usual. He had taken cold, 
undoubtedly from being so much exposed 
the day before, and complained of a sore 
throat. He, however, went out in the 
afternoon into the ground between the 
house and the river to mark some tfees, 
which were to be cut down in the improve- 
ment of that spot. As was usual with 
him, he carried his own compass, noted 
his observations, and marked the ground. 
He had a hoarseness, which increased in 
the evening, but he made light of it. 

Between two and three o'clock, on Sat- 
urday morning, December fourteenth, he 
awoke Mrs. Washington, and told her that 
he was very unwell, and had had an ague. 
She observed that he could scarcely speak, 




and breathed with difficulty, and would 
have got up to call a servant. But he 
would not permit her, lest she should take 
a cold. As soon as the day appeared, the 



176 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— ITTG-ISTG. 



woman (Caroline) went into the room to 
make a fire, and Mrs. Washington sent 
her immediately to call me. I got up, 
put on ray clothes as quickly as possible, 
and went to his chamber. Mrs. Washing- 
ton was then up, and related to me his 
being ill as before stated. I found the 
general breathing with difficulty, and 
hardly able to utter a word intelligibly. 
He desired Mr. Rawlins (one of the over- 
seers) might be sent for, to bleed him be- 
fore the doctor could arrive. I dispatched 
a servant instantly for Rawlins, and an- 
other for Dr. Craik, and returned a>,'ain to 
the general's chamber, where I found him 
in the same situation as I had left him. 

A mixture of molasses, vinegar, and 
butter, was prepared, to try its effects in 
the throat; but he could not swallow a 
drop. Whenever he attempted it, he ap- 
peared to be distressed, convulsed, and al- 
most suffocated. Rawlins came in soon 
after sunrise, and prepared to bleed him. 
AVlien the arm was ready, the general, ob- 
serving that Rawlins appeared to be agi- 
tated, said, as well as he could speak, 
" Don't be afraid." And when the incision 
was made, he observed, " The orifice is not 
large enough." However, the blood ran 
pretty freely. Mrs. Washington, not 
knowing whether bleeding was proper or 
not in the general's situation, begged that 
much might not be taken from him, lest it 
should be injurious, and desired me to 
stop it; but, when I was about to untie 
the string, the general put up his hand to 
prevent it, and, as soon as he could speak, 
he said, "More, more." Mrs. Washing- 
ton being still very uneasy, lest too much 
blood should be taken, it was stopped after 
taking about half a pint. Finding that no 
relief was obtained from bleeding, and 
that nothing would go down the throat, I 
proposed bathing it externally with xal 
volatile, which was done, and in the opera- 
tion, which was with the liaiid, and in the 
gentlest manner, he observed, "It is very 
sore." A piece of flannel dipped in .s-</^ 
volatile was put around his neck, and his 
feet bathed in warm water, but without 
affording any relief. 



In the meantime, before Dr. Craik ar- 
rived, Mrs. Washington desired me to 
send for Dr. Brown, of Port Tobacco, 
whom Dr. Craik had recommended to be 
called, if any case should ever occur that 
was seriously alarming. 

Dr. Dick came about three o'clock, and 
Dr. Brown arrived soon after. Upon Dr. 
Dick's seeing the general, and consulting 
a few minutes with Dr. Craik, he was bled 
again. The blood came very slow, was 
thick, and did not produce any symptoms 
of fainting. Dr. Brown came into the 
chamber soon after, and upon feeling the 
general's pulse, the physicians went out 
together. Dr. Craik returned soon after. 
The general could now swallow a little. 
Calomel and tartar emetic were adminis- 
tered, but without any effect. 

The weather became severely cold, 
while the group gathered nearer to the 
couch of the sufferer. He spoke but little. 
To the respectful and affectionate inquir- 
ies of an old family servant, as she 
smoothed down his pillow, how he felt 
himself, he answered, "I am very ill." 
To ]\Iis. Washington he said, "Go to my 
desk, and in the private drawer you will 
find two papers — bring them to me." 
They were brought. Upon looking at 
them he observed, " These are my wills- 
preserve this one and burn the other;" 
which was accordingly done. 

In the course of the afternoon he aii- 
peared to be in great pain and distress, 
from the difficulty of breathing, and fre- 
quently changed his posture in tlw b.-d. 
On these occasions I lay upon the bod and 
endeavored to raise him, and turn him 
with as much ease as possible. He ap- 
peared penetrated with gratitude for my 
attentions, and often said, •' I am afraid I 
shall fatigue you too much ;" and upon my 
assuring him that I could feel nothing but 
a wish to give him ease, he replied, 

'• Well, it is a debt we must jiay to each 
other, and I hope, when you want aid of 
this kind, you will find it." 

He asked when Mr. Lewis and Wash- 
ington Custis would return. (They were 
then in New Kent.) I told him about the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



177 




20tli of the month. 
The general's serv- 
ant, Christopher, 
was in the room dur- 
ing the day ; and in the afternoon, the 
general directed him to sit down, as he had 
been standing almost the whole day. He 
did so. About eight o'clock in the morn- 
ing, lie had expressed a desire to get up. 
His clothes were put on, and he was led to 
a chair by the fire ; he found no relief 
from that position, and lay down again 
about ten o'clock. About five o'clock, Dr. 
Craik came again into the room, and, 
upon going to the bedside, the general said 
to him, 

" Doctor, I die hard, but I am not afraid 
to go. I believed, from mj- first attack, 
that I should not survive it. My breath 
can not last long." 

The doctor pressed his hand, but could 
not utter a word. He retired from the 
bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in 
grief. Between five and si.K o'clock. Dr. 
Dick and Dr. Brown came into the room, 
and with Dr. Craik went to the bed, when 
Dr. Craik asked him if he could sit up in 
the bed. He held out his hand, and I 
12 



INGTON-, DEC. 14, 17 

raised him up. He then 
said to the physicians, 

"I feel myself going; 
I thnnk you for your 
attentions ; hut I pray you to take no more 
trouble about me. Let me go off qiiictly. 
I cannot last long!^ 

About ten o'clock he made several at- 
tempts to speak to me before he could 
effect it. At length he said, 

" I am just going. Have me decently 
buried ; and do not let my body be put 
into the vault in less than three days after 
I am dead." 

I bowed assent, for I could not speak. 
He then looked at me again and said, 

" Do you understand me ? " 

" Yes," I replied. 

"'Tis WELL," said he; t!ie last words 
which he ever uttered on wvrth. 

With surprising self-possession he pre- 
pared to die — composing his form at full 
length, and folding his arms on liis bosom. 

About ten minutes before he expired 
(which was between ten and eleven o'clock 
Saturday evening), his breathing became 
easier. He lay quietly ; he withdrew his 
hand from mine, and felt his own pulse. 



178 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



I saw liis countpnance cliangp. I spoke to 
Dr. Craik, wlio sat by the tire. He came 
to the bedside. The general's hand fell 
from his wrist. I took it in mine, and 
pressed it to my bosom. Dr. Craik put 
his hands over his eyes, and he expired 
without a struggle or a sigh, December 
fourteenth, 1799, in the sixty-eighth year 
of his age, after an illness of twenty-four 
hours. 

While we were fixed in silent grief, 
Mrs. Washington, who was sitting at the 
foot of the bed, asked with a firm and 
collected voice, " Is ho gone ? " I could 
not speak, but lield up my hand as a signal 
that he was no more. " 'Tis well," said 
she, in the same voice, " all is now over ; 
I sliall soon follow him ; I liave no more 
trials to pass through." 

The disease of which Washington died 
was wliat is now technically culled "acute 
laryngitis," a disease of very rare occur- 
rence. 




OBOROE WASniyOTOK, A8 COLOXEL, 

About twelve o'clock, the body was car- 
ried down stairs, and laid out in the large 
drawing-room ; the burial taking place the 
next Wednesday, December 18th, his 
mortal remains being deposited in the 
family vault at llount Vernon. The 
sudden tidings of his death fell like a do- 
mestic sorrow upon the hearts of the 
people ; lamentations and solemn obsequies 
filled the land, — and, throughout the whole 
world, the event was heard with the deep- 
est emotion. 

Nearly forty years after Washington's 



death and burial, his remains, togetlier 
with those of his wife, were re-entombed, 
in order to their being placed in the 
marble coffins which had been generously 
offered for that purpose by a patriotic citi- 
zen of Pliiladelphia, to the legal represen- 
tatives of the departed chieftain. This 
was in 1837. At the time of Washing- 
ton's interment, December 18, 1799, his 
body was placed in a mahogany coffin lined 
with lead, soldered at the joints, with a 
cover of lead to be soldered on after the 
body should be in the vault. The coffin 
was put into a case, lined and covered 
with black cloth. 

On entering the tomb and examining 
the coffin, on the occasion in question, it 
was found that the lid had become dis- 
placed and broken, and the silver shield 
which had originally surmounted the lid 
liad dropped down into the case. At the 
request of Major Lewis, who was one of 
the family group to witness the re-cntomb- 
nuMit, the fractured part of the lid was 
turned over on the lower part, exposing to 
view a head and breast of large dimen- 
sions, which appeared, by the dim light of 
the candles, to have suffered but little 
from the effects of time. The eye-sockets 
were large and deep, and the breadth 
across the temples, together with the fore- 
head, appeared of unusual size. There 
was no appearance of grave-clothes ; the 
chest was broad, the color was dark, and 
there was the appearance of dried flesh 
and skin adhering closely to the bones. 

The ancient family vault, in which 
Washington's remains first reposed, was 
situated under the shade of a small grove 
of forest trees, a short distance from the 
family mansion of !Mount Vernon, and 
near the brow of the precipitous bank of 
the Potomac. Diminutive and unadorned, 
this humble sepulchre stood in a most 
romantic and picturesque spot, and, on ac- 
count of its prominent locality, could be 
distinctly seen by travelers, as they passed 
in steamboats up and down the river. 

But the ashes of the father of his coun- 
try were in course of time removed from 
that place, to a lot near the corner of a 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



179 



beautiful enclosure, where the river is con- 
cealed from view. This site was selected 
by Washington himself, in the later years 
of his life, for a tomb. 

It is scarcely necessary to cite the opin- 
ions held by the illustrious men of Amer- 
ica concerning Washington. Those opin- 
ions, held and shared by all, from the 
highest to the humblest citizen, may all 
be summed up in that grand apotheosis of 
eulogy, namely, that he was " First in 
War, First in Peace, First in the 
Hearts of His Countrymen." It will 
be of interest, however, in this place, 
to glance at the estimate of Washing- 
ton held by some of the great historic 
characters of the old world, — kings, queens, 
nobles, and orators. 

When Napoleon was about to embark 
for Egypt, some American gentlemen who 
happened to be at Toulon, being anxious 
for an interview with the mighty Corsi- 
can, obtained an introduction to him. 
Scarcely were the customary salutations 
exchanged, when he eagerly asked — 

" How fares your countryman, the great 
Washington ? " 

" He was very well, general, when we 
left America," replied the travelers. 

" Ah, gentlemen," rejoined the man of 
destiny, "Washington can never be other- 
wise than well. The measure of his fame 




OEOUOE WASHINGTON, OEXERAL U. S. A. 

is full. Posterity will talk of him with 
reverence as the founder of a great empire, 
when my name shall be lost in the vortex 
of revolutions." 

Marie Antoinette, queen of France, was 



a great admirer of the heroism and per- 
sonal character of Washington, though 
not in sympathy with his political princi- 
ples. Wishing to send to him a royal 




PKESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. 



gift in token of her appreciation of his 
great merits, she consulted Lafayette as to 
the form of presentation, citing the terms 
used on similar occasions, in addressing 
kings and other monarchs. Lafaj-ette 
mildly objected to those terms, as being 
not altogether suitable in the present case, 
saying : " They, madam, were only kings. 
Washington is the General of a free na- 
tion," — a sentiment to which the gentle- 
mannered queen at once yielded a most 
gracious assent, in deference to the ac- 
knowledged pre-eminence of Washington. 
Lord Erskine, in writing to Washington 
from Loudon, said : " I have taken the 
liberty to introduce your august and im- 
mortal name in a short sentence, which is 
to be found in a book I send you. I have 
a large acquaintance among the most val- 
uable and exalted classes of men ; but you 
are the only human being for whom I have 
ever felt an awful reverence. I sincerely 
pray God to grant you a long and serene 
evening to a life so gloriously devoted to 
the universal happiness of the world." 



180 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



In the year 1780, Frcdorick tlie Great, 
king of Prussia, j)resented General Wash- 
ington with a picture of his majesty taken 
to the life, ami inscribed underneath with 
the words — 

" From the oldest general in Europe, to 
the greatest general on earth." 

Charles James Fox, the renowned Brit- 
ish premier, declared of Washington, in 
the presence of parliament: "llnw infi- 
nitely wiser must appear the si)irit and 
jiriiicijiles manifested in his late addresses 
to congress than the policy of modern Eu- 
ropean courts ! Illustrious man ! deriving 
lionor less from tlije splendor of his situa- 
tion than from the dignity of his mind; 
before whom all borrowed greatness sinks 
into insignificance, and all the potentates 
of Europe — excepting the members of our 
own royal family — become little and con- 
temptible. I can not, indeed, help admir- 
ing the wisdom and fortune of this groat 
man. A character, of virtues so happily 
tempered by one another, and so wholly 
unalloyed by any vices, is hardlj' to be 
found on the pages of historj-. For him it 
has been reserved to run the race of glory, 
without experiencing the smallest inter- 
ruption to the brilliancy of his career."' 

When the news of Washington's death 
reached France, Napoleon announced the 
event to his army, and ordered black crape 
to be suspended from all the flags and 
Standards in the French service for ten 
days ; and, on the eighth of February, 
1800, M. DeFontanes, by direction of Na- 
poleon, pronounced a funeral oration in 
honor of Washington, in the presence of 
Bonaparte and the groat dignitaries of the 
realm, in which oration the illustrious do- 
ceased was declared to be " a character 
worthy the best days of antiquity." 

Of Washington's personal appearance, 
little further need be remarked than that 
it comported entirely with the solid gran- 
deur of his character. In respect to ^)/(»/- 
slque, no man could have been better 
formed for command. A stature some- 
what exceeding six feet, a full but admir- 
ably-proportioned frame, calculated to 
sustain fatigue, without that heaviness 



which generally attends great muscular 
strength and abates active exertion, dis- 
played bodily power of no mean standard. 
A light gray eye and full, firm forehead, 
Roman nose ; his mouth was peculiar of its 




TOMU OF WASBIXOTOS. 



class — the lips firm, and the under jaw 
scorning to gras[> the ujipcr with force, as 
if its nmsclos wore in full action when he 
sat still. It was Washington's habit to 
fasten his eyes c.ilmly and steadily upon 
those who wore iishorod into his presence, 
whether friend or foe, nor was it a slight 
ordeal thus to moot his penetrating gaze. 
His limbs were long, largo, and sinewy, 
and his frame was of equal breadth from 
the shoulders to the hips ; his joints were 
large, as were also his feet, and the great 
size of his hand never failed to attract 
attention. His gait and tread was that of 
a practiced soldier ; his deportment inva- 
riably grave and reserved ; his speech 
sparing and deliberate. At home he wore 
the usual dress of a citizen ; on state occa- 
sions, he dressed in a full suit of the rich- 
est black velvet, with diamond knee- 
buckles, and square silver buckles set 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



181 



upon shoes japanned with the most scru- 
pulous neatness, black silk stockings, his 
shirt mfHed at the breast and wrists, a 
light dress sword, his hair profusely pow- 
dered, fully dressed, so as to project at the 
sides, and gathered behind in a silk bag, 



ornamented with a large rose of black 
ribbon. In the prime of life, Washington 
stood six feet two inches, and weighed 
nearly two hundred and twenty pounds ; 
he measured precisely six feet when at- 
tired for the grave. 



XYII. 

PUNISHMENT AND COMPLETE DEGRADATION OF THE 
BARBARY STATES BY THE YOUNG REPUBLIC— 1803. 



Tribute Exacted of all the Nations of ClirislenJoni, by the rimtical Powers. — The Thunder of American 
Cannon before their Cities — Ijitnominious Submission of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, anJ Tripoli. — Their 
Audacious Corsairs Vanquished and Driven in Terror from the Seas. — A Boon to the Civilized 
World. — Barbary a Nation of Freebooters. — All Commerce at their Mercy. — The United States 
Unknown to Them. — Its Fhig Descried on the Ocean. — Fresh Plunder Anticipated. — Seizure of 
American Ships — Retaliation by the Yankees. — Tripoli's Flaj; Struck at Last.— Treaty between the 
Belligerents — New Exactions by the Algerines. — Kelribution in Store for Them. — A United States 
Frigate in the Pirate Haunts. — Grounding of the Philadelphia. — Her Triumphant Capture by the 
Enemy. — Tlieir Boisterous Exultation. — Decatur Burns Her During the Night. — Fierce Ilnge of the 
Turks — Bombardment of Tripoli. — llow " Christian Dogs" were Viewed. — Peace Sued for by the 
Despots. — Their Duplicity and Treachery. — America's "Tribute" is Powder and Balls. 



*' If you insist upon rcccivini; powder o« tribute, you muj)t expect to receive balls with iti"— Cohuodoqb Oecatub TO Tue Dabbabt 

GOVKlLXUENr. 




ONSIDERING the peculiar weakness and insignificance of the 
Barlmry States, as a military power, it may well appear strange to the 
reader of history, at the present day, tliat, almost to the opening of 
the nineteenth century, nearly all the maritime nations of the earth 
paid triliute to that jiower, in order to appease the insolence and ob- 
tain e.xemption from tlie ravages of tlieir piratical cruisers. The gov- 
crniiu'iit of England or of France might, as has been truly remarked, 
_ liave stopped this system of jiiracy long before, by one peremi)tory word ; 

^'' "i.r'ii'AKY ^° '^'"'' ^^ '''^' i"r'*'"'"s eomiuitted their depredations cliietly in the Med- 
iterranean, those two countries had no special inducement to interfere. And there was 
always some jealous calculation of advantage, — some pitiful project of turning them to 
future account, — wliich prevented decisive action on the part of either nation. Then 
the wars which fcdlowed the French Revolution kept Europe busy at home, and gave 
the ]5arbary sailors the opportunity of pursuing their calling for a few years longer 
with impunity. The English, with large fleets and naval stations in the Mediterranean, 
had notliiiig to fear from them, and were, probably, not much displeased with the con- 
tributions levied upon the commerce of other nations. French merchantmen kept at 
home. Spain, Sweden, Denmark, and Holland tried to outbid one another for the favor 
of the bey, .ley, and pacha, and were robbed and eii.slaved whenever it suited the inter- 
ests of their highnesses. The Tortuguese ]iru(lently kept out of reach, and protected 
their coast by guarding the Straits of Gibraltar. It was a long time, comparatively. 



1 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



183 



before their highnesses were made ac- 
quainted with the fact of tliere being a 
sovereignty called the United States. 

In course of time, tlie piratical cruisers 
descried a new flag floating jaroudly from 
the mast-head of heavy-freighted craft 
plowing their way gallantly through the 
blue waters ; but, though its appearance 
was hailed with avaricious joy, as insuring 
additional harvests of jilunder, it was soon 
to seal their doom, and scatter them, af- 
frighted and dismayed, from the high seas. 

Few subjects had excited more irritation 
among the p)eople as well as the authori- 
ties of the government of the United 
States, up to this period of their national 
independence, than this lawless and out- 
rageous captivity of their fellow-citizens 
in Algiers. 

It may well be supposed, however, that 
no such galling 3'oke could long be worn 
or borne by a free people ; and it was not 
long, therefore, before Washington recom- 
mended the construction of a naval arma- 
ment adequate to the protection of the 
commerce of the United States against the 
depredations committed by the dey's cor- 
sairs, and this proposal eventually received 
the sanction of congress. The act pro- 
vided for four frigates of forty-four guns 
each, and two of thirty-six guns each, and 
in due time they were built, manned and 
equipped, and put in commission, to vindi- 
cate the rights and liberties of the Amer- 
ican flag. 

There was retribution in store for the 
Barbary States, to be dealt out to them by 
the youngest and most remote in the 
family of nations ! 

The naval squadron intended for this 
purpose consisted of the frigate President, 
commanded b^' Commodore Dale, the 
frigate Philadelphia, commanded by Cap- 
tain Barron, the frigate Essex, under 
Captain Bainbridge, and the schooner En- 
terprise, Lieutenant Commandant Sterrett. 
In obedience to instructions from Commo- 
dore Dale, Bainbridge appeared off the 
cities of Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli ; and 
during the winter and spring of 1802, 
cruised in different parts of the Mediterra^ 



nean, and convoyed the United States 
merchant vessels issuing from various 
ports, out of that infested sea. After this 
period of service. Commodore Dale was 
succeeded in his command, first by Com- 





^^~^J2^. 



modore Richard V. Morris, and subse- 
quently by Commodore Preble. The 
Essex, appearing unseaworthj-, was sent 
home. It should also be here mentioned, 
that, on the sixth of August, 1801, the 
Enterprise fell in with a Tripolitan ship of 
war of equal force; the action continued 
three hours and a half, the corsair fight- 
ing with great obstinacj', and even des- 
peration, until .she struck, having lost fifty 
killed and wounded, while the Enterprise 
had not a man injured. This was the 
first Tripolitan ship-of-war, and indeed 
the first armed vessel of any of the Bar- 
bary powers, which ever struck to the 
American flag. 

Not only did the United States now 
determine to protect its maritime rights as 
a commercial j)0wcr, but it resolved to 
pursue the matter aggressively, and 
punish the insolence of the piratical bar- 
barians who thus assumed to dictate to 
Christendom. Under Commodore Preble, 
the squadron consisted of the frigate Phil- 
adelphia, of forty-four guns, conunanded 
by Bainbridge ; the frigate Constitution, 
of forty-four guns, commanded by Preble ; 
the brig Syren, of twelve guns, commanded 
by Stewart ; and the schooners Vixen, 
Nautilus, Argus, and Enterprise, of twelve 



184 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 



to sixteen guns each, and coniniundcd re- 
spectively by Lieutenants Smith, Somers, 
Hull, and Decitur. Tlieir orders were to 
humble and punish the IJarbary sover- 
eigns. 

Wiiile going up the Mediterranean, the 
Philadeliihia descried, on the coast of 
Spain, near Cape de Gatte, a ship car- 
rying only her foresail, with a brig in 
company. It buiiig night, and the guns 
of the craft being lioused, it was not easy 
to at once discover her true character. 
After repeatedly hailing, she proved to be 
a shi[M)f-war from ISarbary, on which in- 
formation, Bainbridge ordered her boat to 
be sent on board the Philadelphia, with 
her papers ; the latter showed that she 
was a cruiser belonging to the emperor of 
Morocco, and called the Meshboha, com- 
manded by Ibrahim Lubarez, mounting 
twenty-two guns, and carrying one hun- 
dred and twenty men. 

By not making themselves known, on 
board the I'liiladclpliia, to the iloorish 
officer who jirescntcd himself, the latter 
made free to say that the brig in company 
was American, and had been with them 
three or four days, was bound to some i>ort 
in Spain, and had been boarded by them, 
but not detained. The small sail, how- 
ever, which the brig was under, in<luced 
Bainbridge to suspect that she had been 
captured ; he therefore sent his first lieu- 
tenant on board the pirate, to see if there 
were any American prisoners. 




Bainbridge instantly ordered all the 
Moorish officers and crew on board the 
Philadelphia. Owing to the high wind 
and sea, the greater jiart of the night was 
thus occupied in getting the jirisoners on 
board and manning the prize, by which 
detention the brig was lost sight of, nor 
was she discovered again until late in the 
afternoon of the ensuing daj', when she 
was met coming round Cape de Gatte from 
the eastward, standing close in shore for 
Almira Bay ; but in consequence of light 
winds, she was not re-captured until mid- 
night. The Moors confessed that they 
came out for the sole purpose of cruising 
for, and capturing, American vessels. On 
the morning after the capture, the Moor- 
ish commander was requested to exhibit 
the orders which authorized him to cajv 
ture American vessels, to which he replied, 
that he had none. To the question, why 



Cci^^i^ayKO c/^<-^^-<X 




he had captured the l>rig, he answered, 
that as there was some misunderstanding 
between his master and the United States 
consul, at Tangier, he was induced to 
commit this act, in anticipation of the war, 
which he thought was inevitable. Cap- 
tain Bainbridge observed to him, that if 
such had been his intention previously to 
sailing, he ought not, as an honorable 
offii-er, to have availed himself of the [iro- 
tection of the consul's passports, which, 
from all ajipearances, were obtained with 
the view of i)racticing a deception on the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



185 




BURNING OF THE PHILADELPHIA. 



United States cruisers. Captain Bain- 
bridge expressed an unwillingness to be- 
lieve him capable of acting thus dishonor- 
ably, and therefore must presume that 
this violation of national faith was com- 
mitted under the authority of the emperor. 
The Moorish commander, still persisting 
in his first denial, Captain Bainbridge 
turned upon him, and sternly remarked — 

" Then, sir, I must consider you a 
pirate, and will be obliged to treat you as 
such." 

Bainbridge now pulled out his watch, 
showed Lubarez the hour, and stated in an 
impressive tone, that he was about to visit 
the quarter-deck for half an hour, and if 
his authority for depredating on the com- 
merce of the United States was not forth- 
coming on his return, he would immedi- 
ately hang him to the main yard, as a 
pirate and malefactor. At the appointed 
time, Captain Bainbridge returned to the 
cabin with watch in hand, and his deter- 
mined purpose manifest in every look and 
movement. Startled at the course which 
things seemed to be taking, the Moor has- 
tily proceeded to unbutton several waist- 
coats, and, from the inside pocket of the 
fifth, drew out the secret document, the 
nature of which confirmed the American 
commander's suspicions. Lubarez was a 



man of education, great dignity, and had 
for many years represented the emperor of 
Morocco, as minister at the courts of 
France and Spain. His capture was most 
timely. 

The attention of Commodore Preble 
was first directed toward Morocco, and 
anchoring at Tangier with a part of his 
squadron, in October, 1S03, he humbled 
the emperor by proposing such terms, and 
insisting on their acceptance, as placed the 
relations of the United States with that 
power on a greatl3--improved footing. 

Most of the armament was now to be 
concentrated before Tripoli. On arriving 
off that port, the Philadelphia, Captain 
Bainbridge, was sent into the harbor to 
reconnoiter. While in eager pursuit of a 
small vessel, lie unfortunately advanced so 
far that the frigate grounded on a ledge of 
rocks, in plain sight of the enemj-, and all 
attempts to remove her were absolutely 
in vain. The sea around her was imme- 
diately covered with Tripolitan gunboats, 
and Bainbridge was compelled to surren- 
der, the ship being a perfect wreck, and 
exposed to the constant fire of the gun- 
boats for more than five hours. Immedi- 
ate possession was taken of the frigate, 
she being entered at every point, and an 
indiscriminate plunder ensuing. 



186 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Lieutenant Stephen Decatur, a gallant 
o£Scer of the besieging squadron, early 
proposed a plan for re-capturing or de- 
stroying the Philadeljiliia, and, accord- 
ingly, Commodore Preble directed him to 
proceed in the ketch Intrepid, carrying 
four guns and seventy-five men, under the 
escort of the Syren, Caj)taiu Stewart, in 
the prosecution of his plan. 

The Pliiladelphia lay within half gun- 
shot of the governor's palace, and several 
cruisers and gun-boats surrounded lier with 
jealous vigilance. The Intrepid entered 
the harbor alone, about eight o'clock in 
the evening, and in a short time succeeded 
in getting near the Pliiladcljihia, without 
having awakened suspicions of any hostile 
design being under way. The Intrepid 
was a vessel which had been cai)ture(l from 
the Tripolitans, and, assuming on tliis oc- 
casion her former national appearance, 
was permitted to warj) alongside, under 
the alleged pretense that slie liad lost all 
her anchors. The moment the vessel 
came in contact, Decatur and liis followers 
leaped on board, and soon overwhelmed a 
crew that was paralyzed with consterna- 
tion. Twenty of the Tripolitans were 
killed. All the surrounding batteries 
being opened ujion the I'liihuklphia, she 
was immediately set on fire, and not aban- 
doned until thoroughly- wrapped in flames ; 




when, a favoring breeze springing uii, the 
Ititrepid extricated herself from her prey, 
and sailed triumphantlj* out of the harbor 



amid the light of the conflagration. Not 
the slightest loss of life occurred on the 
side of the Americans to sluide the splen- 
dor of the enterprise. One seaman re- 
ceived a severe wound, under jieculiar 
circumstances. It appears that as soon as 
the Intrepid was warped alongside the 
Philadelphia, Decatur sj)rang on board, 
(juickly followed by tlie otlier officers and 
men. Instantly, the brave commander, 
with liis gallant comrades, rushed, sword 
in hand, on the enemy, wlio were crowded 
together on the forecastle, and killed or 
drove into the sea the whole gang. In the 
first desperate struggle, Decatur was dis- 
armed and fell, momentarily overpowered 
in the sanguinary melee. A saber was 
already lifted to strike the fatal blow, 
when this lieroic seaman, observing the 
jyerilous situation of his officer, reached 
forward, and received the blow of the 
saber on his arm. 

It is recorded that nothing could exceed 
the rage of the sovereign, at the loss of 
his valuable prize. Barbarian-like, he 
ordered the prison to be immediately sur- 
rounded by guards, and interrupted all 
intercourse between the officers and men. 
They were also conducted under a strong 
guard to the castle, and confined in a 
cold and damp apartment, with only 
one opening at the top, which was grated 
with iron ; light and air came through 
this aperture solely. TIius they were 
entombed during the remainder of their 
captivity. 

Determined now to try the effect of a 
bombardment, Preble brought togetlier all 
his forces before Tripoli, in July, 1804. 
The enemy having sent .some gun-boats 
and galleys without the reef at the mouth 
of the harbor, two divisions of American 
gun-boats were formed for the jjurjwse of 
attacking them, while the large vessels 
assailed the batteries and town. Early in 
August, the American squadron ajv 
proachcd within gun-shot of the town, and 
opened a tremendous fire of shot and 
shells, which was as promptly returned by 
the Trijiolitan batteries and shipping. At 
the same time, the two divisions of gun- 



GEEAT A^B MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



187 




BOMBAUDMENT OF TRIPOLI. 



boats, the first under the command of 
Captain Richard Soniers, the second under 
Captain Stephen Decatur, who had been 
promoted as a reward for his hite achieve- 
ment, advanced against tliose of tlie 
enemy. The squadron was about two 
hours under the enemy's batteries, gener- 
ally within pistol-shot, ranging by them in 
deliberate succession, alternately silencing 
their fires, and launching its thunders into 
the very palace of royalty, while a yet 
more animated battle was raging in an- 
other quarter. "What the Turks them- 
selves thought of these demonstrations 
may be judged from the fact that the gov- 
ernor, affecting at first to despise his 
assailants and their attack, was soon glad 
to run in dismay to a bomb-proof apart- 
ment in his castle. The sons of the 
prophet said, in their rage : — 

" The English, French and Spanish 
consuls, have told us that they are a j-oung 
nation, and got their independence bj' 
means of France ; that they had a small 
navy and their officers were inexperienced, 
and that they were merely a nation of 
merchants, and that, by taking their ships 
and men, we should get great ransoms. 



Instead of this, their Preble pays us a 
coin of shot, shells, and hard blows ; and 
sent a Decatur, in a dark night, with a 
band of Christian dogs fierce and cruel 
as the tiger, who killed our brothers and 
burnt our ships before our eyes." 

Preble now planned to send a fire-ship 
into the enem3'"s harbor. The Intrepid 
was fitted out for this service, filled with 
combustible and explosive materials. The 
brave Captain Somers was appointed to 
conduct her, under suitable convoy, to the 
mouth of the harbor ; choice was also made 
of two of the fleetest boats in the squad- 
ron, manned with picked crews, to bring 
them out. At eight o'clock in the even- 
ing she stood into the harbor with a mod- 
erate breeze. Several shots were fired at 
her from the batteries. She had nearly 
gained her place of destination when she 
exploded, without having made anj- of the 
signals previously concerted to show that 
all was well. Night hung over the dread- 
ful catastrophe, and left the whole squad- 
ron a prey to the most painful anxiety. 
The convoy hovered about the harbor until 
sunrise, when no remains could be discov- 
ered either of the Intrepid or her boats. 



188 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Doubt was now turned into fatal certainty, 
— slie had prematurely- blown up ! Tliis 
event was deeply deplored in the United 
States, and, in memory of the heroio dead, 
there has been erected a beautiful Doric 
monument in the eapitol grounds at 
AVashington. 

Soon after these events, Commodore 
Barron succeeded Preble in command, and 
it bcinp; understood that renMiforcements 
and another attack were near at hand, tiie 
Turkish ruler came to terms, and desired 
to make peace. 

True to tlieir characteristic duplicity 
and treachery, the Algerine authorities, on 
the brcakinij-out of war between England 
and the United States, took advantage of 
the presumed disabilities of the latter, re- 
sumed tlieir system of piracies and extorting 
tribute-money and presents. Two squad- 
rons were duly fitted out by the American 
government, and were commanded by 
Commodores Decatur and Bainbridge. 
Ajtpearing before Algiers, Decatur sent 
tile model of a treaty to the governor, de- 
manding instant agreement. The Turk 
thought it hard to have to relinquish his 
tribute-money and presents of every sort, 
and intimated that he would at least like 
to receive a supply of powder. " If" re- 



plied Decatur, " you insist upon receiving 
powder as tribute, you must expect to re- 
ceive balls with it ! " The governor turned 
pale at this stern language, and was glad 
enough to yield to the terms dictated by 
the intrepid negotiator. 

Thus, before the authorities of Barbary 
had received anj- intimation of the restor- 
ation of peace between Britain and Amer- 
ica, the American squadron appeared 
before their capitals ; had captured several 
of their vessels ; compelled the governor of 
Algiers to submit to the indignity of sign- 
ing, on Decatur's quarter-deck, a humiliat- 
ing treaty; obliged Tunis to refund the 
amount of American property which they 
])ermitted the English cruisers to take out 
of their harbor; and exacted of Tripoli an 
apology for the insult offered to the United 
States consul, and again to hoist the re- 
public's flag over the consul's house, 
accompanied by a salute of twenty-four 
guns. The submission of these powers 
was complete. They bound themselves to 
make indemnity for past extortions; to 
surrender every prisoner without ransom ; 
and to renounce all claim for tribute from 
the American government, as well as their 
barbarous practice of piracy and reducing 
prisoners to slavery. 



J 

1 



XVIII. 

FATAL DUEL BETWEEN MR. BURR AND GENERAL 
ALEXANDER HAMILTON.— 1804. 



Fall of Ilamilton at First Fire. — His Deatli in Thirty Hours — Profound Sensation and Solemn Obse- 
quies in all Parts of tlieLand. — Mourned as one of the Founders of tlie Republic. — Indictment of the 
Assassin for the Crime of Murder. — Hamilton's Brilliant Public Life. — Washington's Right hand Man. 
— Champion of the Federalists. — Burr's Career in the Revolution. — His Notorious Debauchery. — Fi- 
nally Dismissed by Washington. — Becomes Vice-President in 1800. — Deadly Personal Hatreds. — 
Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents. — Challenge Sent to Hamilton. — Pacific Explanations Spurned. 
— Forced to Meet Burr. — Makes His Will in Anticipation — Sings at a Banquet the Day Before. — 
Arrival of the Fatal Hour — Hamilton's Mortal Wound. — What He Said of the Event. — Conversation 
Before Dying — Partakes of the Communion. — His Testimony Against Dueling. — Heartless Conduct 
of Burr. — A Fugitive and an Outlaw. 



Censor to Antony : "Let the old ruffian know 

1 have many other wuya to die: meantime, 

Laugti at his challenge."— A.\r. & Cleo., Act. 4, Sc. 1. 




MONUMEXT TO .4LEXANDEB HA.MILTON. 

mainder of the war, and at the siege 



of 



Y far the most exciting personal transac- 
tion that occurred among the first genera- 
tion of American statesmen and politi- 
cians, ^^•as the duel fouglit in July, 1804, 
between Colonel Aaron Burr, at that time 
vice-president of the United States, and 
General Alexander H.auiilton, formerly 
secretary of the treasur}', during the ad- 
ministration of Washington ; and in which 
duel Hamilton fell mortallj' wounded, his 
country being thus deprived of its most 
brilliant ornament. 

Of transcendent abilities and unsullied 
official integrity', it may be said of the 
victim in this murderous tragedv, that no 
one labored more efficiently than he, in the 
organization of the present federal govern- 
ment. At the age of nineteen lie entered 
the revolutionary armj', and in 1777 was 
appointed aid-de-camp of General Wash- 
ington,with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. 
In this capacity he served during the re- 

Yorktown led in person the detachment 



that carried by assault one of the British outworks. AVlien Iiis military services 
were no longer required, he commenced the study of the law, entered into its prac- 



190 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



tice in New York, and soon rose to dis- 
tinction. In 1782, lie was chosen a 
member of congress ; in 1787, a member of 
the convention that franifd the federal 
constitution. Of this work, as profound as 
any, and more generally intelligible than 
most, that have been written on the science 
of government, the larger portion pro- 
ceeded from the pen of Hamilton. In 
political life, he was one of the strongest 
chanii)ions of the part}' which had Wash- 
ington at its head. In 1789, he was placed 
in the cabinet, as secretary of the treasury, 
and while in this position rendered the 
most efficient service to his country, by 
the establishment of an admirable system 
of national finance. During the insurrec- 
tion in Pennsylvania, when tlie people of 
the western counties took up arms against 
the general government, Hamilton was 
placed at the head of the government force 
destined to act against them ; the disturlj- 
ances being quelled without bloodshed, he 
resigned his post. His last appearance in 
military character was again by the side 




of Washington, in 1798, as second in com- 
mand of the army, which was to be called 
into service in case of hostilities with 
France. 



Aaron Burr was one year the senior of 
Hamilton, in point of age. His father was 
the Rev. Aaron Burr, the learned and de- 
vout president of Princeton college, and 




his mother the daughter o{ that eminent 
divine, Jonathan Edwards. Before Burr 
had reached his third year, however, he 
was an orphan. AVhen twelve j-ears of 
age he entered college, graduating at six- 
teen with the highest rejiutatioii. In 
1775, while a student of law, he joined the 
American army under Washington, and 
such was his ardor in his country's cau.se, 
that he joined Arnold as a volunteer in 
the expedition against Quebec. After his 
arrival there he was appointed aid-dc-canip 
to ^Montgomery, and was b}- the side of 
that brave officer when he fell. Subse- 
quently, in 1776, he was received by 
Washington as one of his niilitarj- family, 
but was .soon cast off by that stern moral- 
ist in consequence of his debauchery. 
This act of Washington, Burr never for- 
gave. His unquestioned military talents, 
however, secured for him the high position 
of lieutenant-colonel in 1777, which he re- 
tained until 1779, when he was obliged to 
relinquish it on account of ill-liealth. De- 
voting himself to law, he early became one 
of the greatest lawyers in New York, of 
which state he was made attorney-general 
in 1789. From 1791 to 1797, he was a 
United States senator. In 1800, he was a 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



191 



candidate for the presidency, and received 
the same number of votes as Thomas Jef- 
ferson ; the choice thus went to congress, 
which, on the tliirty-sixth ballot, elected 
Jefferson president and Burr vice-presi- 
dent. In his personal appearance, Burr 
is described as having been, in the prime 
of his manhood, a small but well-formed, 
fair-complexioned, fascinating man; Iiis 
face was handsome, by some described as 
striking, and eyes jet-black and uncom- 
monly brilliant and piercing. In public 
he had an air of eminent authoritj', but in 
the drawing-room his manner was singu- 
larly graceful, gentle, and winning. He 
was a wit, a beau, a good scholar, a pol- 
ished gentleman, an unscrupulous lawyer 
and politician, and a libertine in morals. 
But whoever would read, in all its varied 
detail, the life of this wonderful man, 
must consult the biographies of him by 
Parton and Davis. 

The animosity between Burr and Ham- 
ilton, as the leaders, respectively, of the 
two great political parties, was very bitter. 
The history of this quarrel, in its immedi- 
ate bearing upon the fatal rencontre in 
which it finally culminated, is somewhat 
differently' characterized by various biogra- 
phers, and perhaps not always impartiallj'. 
Reviewing the matter from the date of 
Washington's death, the fact is brought to 
notice, that such was the number of seced- 
ers from the federal party after that un- 
looked-for event, that their opponents re- 
solved to adopt the bold policy of running 
two presidential candidates, in order thus 
to secure at least the election of a vice- 
president, and in this way, although a 
choice by the electoral colleges was not 
effected, the two candidates of the demo- 
cratic party were brought before the house 
of representatives with claims apparently 
equal. In the vote of this body by states, 
it soon appeared that the federal members 
had it in their power to determine which 
of the two, Jefferson or Burr, should be 
president. Many violent federal parti- 
sans were inclined to throw a brand of 
discord into the republican party, by con- 
ferring the dignity on Burr ; and he is 



accused of intriguing with them for the 
purpose. 

It is believed that Burr, from this time 
forth, became Hamilton's mortal foe, and 
watched for an occasion to get rid of such 
a rival. In the careful account given by 
Hildreth, of the subsequent progress of 
this feud, — a portion of which is here cited, 
— he mentions, primarilj', the two well- 
known letters written by Dr. Cooper, a 
zealous partisan, in one of which it is 
alleged that Hamilton had spoken of Burr 
as a dangerous man, who ought not to be 
trusted with the reins of government. In 
the other letter, after repeating the above 
statement. Cooper added that he could de- 
tail a still more despicable opinion which 
General Hamilton had expressed of Mr. 
Burr. 

Upon this latter passage, the historian 
asserts. Burr seized as the means of forcing 
Hamilton into a duel. For his agent and 
assistant therein he selected William P. 
Van Ness, a j'oung lawyer, one of his most 
attached partisans, and not less dark, de- 
signing, cool, and implacable than himself. 
Van Ness was sent to Hamilton with a 
copy of Cooper's printed letter, and a note 
from Burr, insisting upon a jJrompt and 
unqualified acknowledgment or denial of 
the use of any expressions which would 
warrant Cooper's assertions. 

Hamilton expressed a perfect readiness to 
avow or disavow any specific opinion which 
he might be charged with having uttered ; 
but added that he never would consent to be 
interrogated generally as to whether he had 
ever said anj-thing in the course of fifteen 
j'ears of political competition to justify in- 
ferences which others might have drawn, 
thus exposing his candor and sincerity to 
injurious imputations on the part of all 
who might have misapprehended him. 

" More than this," said Hamilton in the 
conclusion of his letter to Burr, "can not 
fitly be expected of me; especially-, it can 
not be reasonably expected (hat I shall 
enter into any explanations upon a basis 
so vague as that j'ou have adopted. I 
trust, on more reflection, you will see the 
matter in the same light. If not, I can 



192 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177&-1876. 



only regret the circumstance, and must 
aliide the consequences." 

Burr's curt, rude, and offensive rei)ly 
began with intimating tliat Hamilton's 
letter was greatly deficient in that sincer- 
ity and delicacy whicli ho i)rofe8sed so 
much to value. The ei)ithet in question, 
in the common understanding of it, im- 
plied dishonor. It having been aflfi.ved to 
Burr's name upon Hamilton's authority, 
lie was bound to say wlietlicr he had au- 
thorized it, either directly, or by uttering 
expressions or opinions derogatory to 
Burr's lioiior. 

It was apparent from this letter, and it 
was subsc(pU'iitly distinctly stated by Van 
Ness, that what B\irr recjuired was a gen- 
eral disavowal on the part of Hamilton, of 
any intention, in any conversation he 
might ever have held, to convey impres- 
sions derogatory to the honor of Burr. 
Desirous to deprive Burr of any possible 
excuse for persisting in his murderous 
designs, Hamilton caused a J>api'r to be 
transmitted to him, through Pendleton, a 
brother lawyer, who acted as his friend in 
this matter, to the effect that, if properly 
addressed — for Burr's second letter was 
considered too insulting to admit of a reply 
— he should be willing to state that the 
conversation alluded to by Dr. Cooper, so 
far as he could recall it, was wholly in re- 
lation to politics, and did not touch upon 
Burr's private cliaracter ; nor should he 
hesitate to make an equally j)rompt avowal 
or disavowal as to anj* other i)articular and 
specific conversation concerning which he 
might bo questioned. 

But as Burr's only object was to find a 
pretext for a challenge, — since he never 
could have expected the general disavowal 
he denumded, this offer was pronounced 
unsatisfactory and evasive ; and again, a 
second time, disavowing in the same breath 
the charge made against him of predeter- 
luined hostility. Burr requested Van Ness 
to deliver a challenge. 

The eleventh of July, at seven in the 
morning, was the time mutually agreed 
upon for the duel ; tlio place, Weehawken, 
New Jersey, opposite the city of New York ; 



the weapons to be pistols, and the distance 
ten paces. In the meantime, Hamilton and 
Burr met once more at the convivial board, 
namely, at the annual bamjuet of the Soci- 
ety of the Cincinnati, of which Hamilton 
was president and Burr a member. It is 
related that on tliis occasion Hamilton was 
cheerful, and at times merry. He was 
urged, as the feast wore away, to sing the 
only song he ever sang or knew, the 
famous old ballad of "The Drum." It 
was thought afterward, that he was more 
reluctant than usual to comply with the 
company's request ; but after some delay, 
he said, " Well, you shall have it," and 
sang it in his best manner, greatly to the 
delight of the old soldiers by whom he 
was surrounded. Burr, on the contrary, 
was reserved, and mingled little with the 
company, and held no intercourse what- 
ever with the president. He was never a 
fluent man, and was generally, in the soci- 
ety of men, more a listener than a talker. 
On this occasion, his silence was, there- 
fore, the less remarked ; j-et it was re- 
marked. It was observed, too, that he 
paid no attention to Hamilton's conversa- 
tion, nor, indeed, looked toward him. until 
he struck up his song, when ]'>iur turned 
towanl him, and, leaning ujxin the table, 
looked at the singer until the song was 
done. 

The fatal morning came. Colonel Burr 
arrived first on the ground, as had been 
previously agreed. He deliberately took 
off his coat, surveyed the ground, and 
then cleared away the bushes, limbs of 
trees, etc. When General Hamilton ar- 
rived, the parties exchanged salutations, 
and the seconds proceeded to make their 
arrangements. They measured the dis- 
tance, full ten ])aces, and cast lots for the 
choice of position, as also to determine by 
whom the word should be given, biith of 
which fell to the seconds of Hamilton. 
Tliey then proceeded to load the pistols in 
each other's presence, after which the 
parties took their stations. 

The gentleman who was to give the 
word now explained to the parties the 
rules which were to govern them in firing, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



193 




SCENE OF THE BURR AXD HAMILTON DUEL, WEEHAWKEN. 



which were as follows : ' The parties being 
placed at their stations, the second who 
gives the word shall ask them whether 
they are readj' ; being answered in the 
affirmative, he shall say Present ; after 
this, the parties shall present and tire 
when they please. If one fiies before 
the other, the opposite second shall saj', 
"One, two, three, fire ; — and he shall then 
fire, or lose his fire.' He then asked if 
they were prepared ; being answered in 
the affirmative, he gave the word Present, 
as had been agreed on, and both parties 
presented and fired in succession. The 
fire of Burr took effect ; Hamilton sprang 
upon his toes with a convulsive movement, 
13 



reeled a little toward the heights, at which 
moment he involuntarily discharged his 
pistol, and then fell headlong upon his face, 
and remained motionless upon the ground. 
His ball rustled among the branches, seven 
feet above the head of his antagonist, and 
four feet wide of him. Burr heard it, 
looked up, and saw where it had severed a 
twig. Looking at Hamilton, he beheld 
him falling, and advanced towards him 
with a manner and gesture that appeared 
to be expressive of regret, but without 
speaking turned about and withdrew, 
being urged from the field by his friend. 
No further communication took place be- 
tween the principals, and the barge that 



194 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



carried Colonel Burr immediately left the 
Jersey sliore for New York. 

Hamilton was at once borne away ten- 
derly in the arms of Pendleton, and his 
necessities ministered to by Dr. Hosack. 
He had, at this moment, just strenjjth 
enough to sa}^ " This is a mortal wound, 
doctor;" when he sank away, and liecanie 
to all appearance lifeless. '"My vision is 
indistinct," were his first words. Soon 
after recoverinj; his sight, he hap]>('iied to 
cast his eye upon the case of j)ist<)ls, and 
observing the one he liad used lying on 
the outside, he said : 

" Take care of that ])istol ; it is undis- 
charged, and still cocked ; it may go off 
and do harm ; — Pendleton knows (attempt- 
ing to turn his head towards him) that I 
did not intend to fire at him." 

" Yes, I have already made Dr. Hosack 
acquainted with your determination as to 
that," replied Pendlct.ni. 

On approaching the sliore, he said, " Let 
Mrs. Hamilton be immediately sent for ; 
let the event be gradually broken to her ; 
but give her hojies." His friend, J[r. 
Ba^-ard, stood on the wharf in great agita- 
tion, and, on seeing Hamilton lying in the 
bottom of the boat, he threw uj) liis arms 
and burst into a flood of tears and lamen- 
tation. Hamilton alone ajijieared tranquil 
and composed. On being jiut to bed, a 
consultation of physicians was held, who 
united in the opinion that there was no 
chance of his recovery. General Key, the 
French consid, also had the goodness to 
invite the surgeons of the French frigates 
then in New York harbor, as they had had 
ninth experience in gun-shot wounds, to 
render their assistance. They immedi- 
ately came, but their opinion was unani- 
mous as to the ho|(elessiiess of the case. 
The ball had struck the second or third 
false rib, and fractured it about the middle ; 
it then passed through the liver and 
the diaphragm, and as far as was sub- 
sequently ascertained, lodged in the first 
or second lumbar vertebra, the latter being 
considerably sjilintered, so that the spic- 
ule were perceptible to the touch of the 
finger. 



The news of Hamilton's fall, and jirob- 
ably speedy death, by a duel with the vice- 
president of the United States, jiaralyzed 
the whole nation, as the shocking intelli- 
gence sped itself over the coniitr^'. In 
New York, csi)ecially, bulletins, hourly 
changed, kept the city in agitation. All 
the circumstances of the catastrojdie were 
told, and re-told, at every corner. The 
thrilling scenes that were ]p;issing at the 
bedside of the dying man, the consultation 
of the physicians, the arrival of the stricken 
family, Mrs. Hamilton's overwhelming 
sorrow, the resignation and calm <lignity 
of the illustridus sufferer, his bii)kcii slum- 
bers during the night, the piteous specta- 
cle of the seven children entering together 
the awful apartment, — all these i)roduced 
an inipressiiin cm the iniblic that can only 
be imagined. 

At General Hamilton's request, Bishop 
^loore and Rev. Dr. Mason visited him at 
his bedside. To the former he said : " My 
dear sir, j'ou perceive my unfortunate sit- 
uation, and no doubt have been made 
acipiainted with the circumstances which 
led to it. It is my desire to receive the 
communion at your hands. I hope you 
will not conceive there is any impropriety 
in my request. It has for some time past 
been the wi.sh of my heart, and it was my 
intention to take an early opportunity of 
uniting myself to the church by the recep- 
tion of that holy ordinance." Bishop 
Moore observed to him, that he must be 
very sensible of the delicate and trying 
situation in which, as a minister, he was 
then placed;- that however desirous he 
might be to afford consolation to a fellow 
mortal in distress, still it was his duty as 
an ambassador of the gospel, to Imld up tlic 
law of God as ]>aramount to all other law, 
and that, therefore, he must uncipiivocally 
condemn the ]iiactice wliiih had lirought 
him to his in-esent unha])]py condition. 
Hamilton acknowledged the propriety of 
these sentiments, and added, " / have no 
ill-will affdinst Colonel Burr. I met him 
with a fixed determination to do him no 
harm. I forgioe all that happened." 
After some other religious convers.ation 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



195 



incident to the occasion, he received the 
sacrament with great devotion, expressing 
strong confidence in divine mercy. In his 
interview with Dr. Mason, he exhibited 
the same spiritual conviction, and rejieated 
the emphatic testimony he had given to 
Bishop Moore, against the barbarous 
custom of dueling. 

The next day, Thursday, at eleven 
o'clock, being about thirty hours after 
receiving the fatal wound, Hamilton em- 
braced his wife for the last time, then 
calmly composed himself to die, and ex- 
pired without a shudder or a groan, in the 
prime of his manhood, being forty-seven 
years of age. 

The death of this most illustrious states- 
man was universall}' deplored, as a na- 
tional calamity second only to the death of 
Washington himself; and, indeed, on ac- 
count of the tragical circumstances under 
which the great patriot was brought to 
his end, the excitement produced through- 
out the country was, if possible, more 
startling and profound than that which 
followed the announcement of Washing- 
ton's decease. In the city of New York, 
the most imposing funeral ceremony ever 
witnessed in America revealed the unex- 
amjiled grief that burdened the public 
mind. All business was susj)ended, the 
bells tolled in solemn requiem, public meet- 
ings of the various societies were held, the 
shi])s in the harbor hoisted their flags at 
half-mast, and sorrow was depicted on 
every countenance. 

The indignation against Burr knew no 
bounds. His fixed determination to bring 
Hamilton within range of his pistol, feel- 
ing " sure of being able to kill him," 
caused his act to be branded as willful 
murder, and an indictment was duly found 
against him ; but in a few days he fled, an 
outlaw and an outcast, and thus eluded 
justice. Burr's execrable heartlessness 
may be judged of, by the note written by 
him to Mr. AUston, his son-in-law, in which 



he said : " General Hamilton died yester- 
day. The malignant federalists or tories, 
and the embittered Clintonians, unite in 
endeavoring to excite public sympathy in 
his favor and indignation against his an- 
tagonist. Thousands of absurd falsehoods 
are circulated with industry. The most 
illiberal means are practiced in order to 
produce excitement, and for the moment 
with effect." 

One week before the time fixed ujjon for 
the duel, Hamilton prepared a letter to his 
wife, to be handed to her in case of his 
death. In this affecting epistle, he assures 
her that he had striven by all lionorable 
means to avoid the meeting, and expects 
to fall in it; he entreats her forgiveness 
for the calamity his death would bring 
upon her, and conjures her to meet the 
blow in calm submission to providence. 

Hamilton's widow, a woman of rare 
excellence and dignity, survived him some 
fifty years. Once only did she see her 
husband's murderer, the circumstances of 
this occasion being related as follows : In 
the year 1822, she was traveling from 
New York to Albany, on one of the 
boats plj'ing the Hudson. The com- 
pany had been summoned to dinner. 
When Mrs. Hamilton had almost reached 
her seat in the dining-saloon, on rais- 
ing her eyes she perceived Aaron Burr 
standing directly opposite to her, with 
only the narrow width of the table between 
them. The shock was too much for her 
system, — she uttered a loud scream, fell, 
and was cai-ricd in a fainting state from 
the apartment. As soon as she recovered, 
she insisted on being set on shore at the 
first landing-place, refusing to journey 
further in the same vessel with Burr. It 
is said, that, after the removal of Mrs. 
Hamilton from the dining saloon, Burr 
deliberately sat down and ate a hearty 
dinner with the utmost conii)osure. Tliis 
story, however, wears an air of improba- 
bility. 



XIX. 

TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE AT MID-DAY.— 1806. 



The Darkness of Niglit Falls upon the Earth -Stars anJ Planets in Full Radiance -Magnificent Spec- 
tacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Rosy Protuberances Flannng Iron, 
the Sun.-Splendor of the Kcturnin- Night.-Similar Eclipse in lS(VJ.-M,lhons of Faces Turned 
Upward -The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder, and Absorbed Del.ght.-Uen.arkably 
Fine Weather.— Serene and Cloudless Ueavens.-Business Pursuits Abandoned— The Moon Crossing 
the Sun-Distinctness of the Lunar Urb.-Urand, Dark, Majestic, Mighty -Total Obscurity Some 
Five Minutes.— Appearance of Nature —Sensations Produced in the Mind.— Involuntary Exclama- 
tions.— Effect on Birds and Animals.-Triuniphs of Astronomical Science -EN.iuisitely-Constructed 
Instruments— Revelations of the Spectroscope.-Great Thennonietricil Changes.-Spots on the Sun 
E.xamined.-Openings in the Moon.-Peculiar Color of that Body .-Its Dark and Dismal Shadows - 
Search for New Stars.— Meteora 'mid Earth and Moon — Cliina.v of the Impressive Scene. 




"The Bun'a rim dips : the Btara ruah out t 

With one Btridc coiiica the dark I "— CoLEBIDOB. 



IMPLE and well known th.iu-li tin- fa.t ni.ty be, according to tlio ex- 
liUuiations of astronomical science, that a solar ecHi>se i.s caiiscl l.y the 
intervention of the moon between the sun atid the earth during the 
daytime, and that the effect of such interposition is to obstruct the 
_.^,,_, sun's rays— the light being turned into darkn(>ss while the i.henome- 

„on lists— a total solar eclipse is, without doubt, the most sublime and awe-in.spiring 
snectacle upon which the eye of man is permitted to gaze. By far the most remarkable 
exhibition of this kind, was that whicli occurred June 10, ISOO, when the sun m the 
northern states was totally eclipsed nearly five minutes, about half an h.uir belore noon, 
the width of the moon's shadow being about one hundred and fifty miles, or about 
seventy-five on each side of the central line. Sin,'e ISOC, only one total eclipse of the 
sun occurred in the Atlantic States, namely in South Carolina and Georgia, November 
30 1834; but the eclipse of June 16, 1806, is reganled by astro.ion.ers as the most 
memorable ever known in the United States,— that of August 7, 18C.'.), being the next 
in grandeur and interest. 

The accounts given by Chancellor De Witt, of New York, Dr. Bowditch, of 31assa- 
cluisetts, and others, of the phe.ton.enon of 180G, .show that its approa.-h was most anx- 
iously watched, an.l, as it was to be seen all over Europe and North America, the gaze 
of the people of both hemispheres was, on that day, simultaneously .lirecte.l toward the 
great luminary and center of the physical system. Some of the most remarkable observ- 
ations inatle by Dr. Bowditch, of Salem, I\Iass., will here be given. 

Fortunately for the interests of science, the day was one of remarkably fine weather, 
scarcelv a cloud being visible in any part of the heavens. An assistant was seated 



GREAT AlSfD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



19< 



near the doctor, who counted the seconds 
from the clironometer, thus enabling Dr. 
Bowditch to mark down with a pencil the 
time when the first impression was made 
on the sun's limb, without taking his eye 
from the telescope till four or five seconds 
had elapsed, and the eclipse had sensibly 
increased. As the eclipse advanced, there 
did not appear to be so great a diminution 
of the light as was generally expected, and 
it was not until the sun was nearly cov- 
ered, that the darkness was very sensible. 
At thirty-seven minutes and thirty seconds 
past eleven o'olock, the sun's surface was 
wholly covered. The last ray of light from 
the sun's limb disappeared instantaneously. 
The whole of the moon was then seen sur- 
rounded by a luminous appearance of con- 
siderable extent, such as had generally 
been noticed in total eclipses of the sun. 
This luminosity, with a twilight bright- 
ness round the horizon, prevented the 
darkness from being any greater than it 
was, during the time that the sun's sur- 
face remained wholly covered. The de- 
gree of light can be estimated, on such an 
occasion, by the number of stars visible to 
the naked eye ; those noticed at this time 
were Capella, Aldebaran, Sirius, Procyon, 
the three bright stars in the belt of Orion, 




and the star a in its shoulder. Venus 
and Mars were also visible. A candle had 
been provided to assist in reading off the 
seconds from the chronometer, but, though 
it was not found necessary in the garden 
where these observations were made, it 
would have been in the house adjoining. 



As the time drew near for witnessing the 
end of the total darkness, there was no- 
ticed a visible increase of light in the at- 
mosphere for about two seconds before any 
part of the sun's limb was visible in the 
telescope ; but at thirty-two minutes and 
eighteen seconds past eleven o'clock — the 
time noted as that of the end of total 
darkness, — the light burst forth with 
great splendor. After this, the light ap- 
peared to increase much faster than it 
had decreased, and in a short time it 
was as light as in a common cloudy day, 
the degree of light continually increas- 
ing, of course, as the eclipse drew to a 
close. 

The impressions made by such an exhi- 
bition, upon different minds, are not the 
least interesting points, in a narrative like 
this. Mr. Coojjer, the novelist, though 
but a youth at the time of the eclipse, was 
so enthusiastic an observer of the specta- 
cle, that, twenty-five years after the event, 
he wrote a minute account of what he 
saw and how he felt during the wonderful 
occurrence. Mr. Cooper states that, as he 
and the other spectators in his company 
first discerned, through their glasses, the 
oval form of the moon darkening the 
sun's light, an exclamation of delight, al- 
most triumphant, burst involuntarily from 
the lips of all. Gradually, and at first 
quite imperceptibljf to the sight, that dark 
and mysterious sphere gained upon the 
orb of light. As j'et (continues Mr. 
Cooper), there was no change perceptible 
in the sunlight falling upon lake and 
mountain ; the familiar scene wore its 
usual smiling a.spect, bright and glowing 
as on other days of June. The people, 
however, were now crowding into the 
streets, — their usual labors were abandoned 
— forgotten for the moment, — and all faces 
were turned upward. Gradually a fifth, 
and even a fourth, of the sun's disc be- 
came obscured, and still the unguarded 
eye could not endure the flood of light. 
The noonday heat, however, began to 
lessen, and something of the coolness of 
early morning returned to the valley. 
Soon, a somber, yellowish, unnatural color- 



198 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



ing was slied over the country. A great 
cliange luid taken place. Tin- trees on the 
di.stant height.s liail lost their venhire and 
their airy character, and were taking the 
outline of dark pictures graven upon an 
unfamiliar sky. 

The startling effect of such an abnormal 
transition in nature, upon animals and 




fowls, and even n]ioii Imnian licings, has 
sometimes been desrriberl in such a 
manner as to excite well-grounded suspi- 
cions of exaggeration, in the minds of 
those persons to whom has been denied 
the opportunit3- of personal observation. 
But Mr. Cooper states that ''all living 
creatures seemed thrown into a state of 
agitation. The liirds were fluttering to 
and fro, in great excitement; they seemed 
to mistrust that this was not the gradual 
a])proach of evening, and were undecided 
in their movements. Even the dogs be- 
came uneasj", and drew closer to their mas- 
ters. The eager, joyous look of interest 
and curiosity, which earlier in the morning 
had appeared in almost every countenance, 
was now changed to an expression of won- 
der, or anxiety, or thoughtfulness, accord- 
ing to the individual character. Every 
house now gave up its tenants. As the 
light failed mure and iiiore with every pass- 
ing second, the children came flocking 
about their mothers in terror. The women 
themselves were looking .about uneasily for 
their husbands. Tlie men were verv gen- 
erally silent and grave. Many a laborer 
left his employment to be near his wife 
and children, as the dimness and darkness 



increased. It was one of those entirely un- 
clouded daj's, less rare in America than in 
Europe. The stea<lily-waning light, the 
gradual approach of darkness, became the 
more impressive as we observed this abso- 
lutely-transparent state of the he.avens. The 
birds, which a quarter of an hour earlier 
had been fluttering about in great agita- 
tion, seemed now to bo convinced that 
night was at hand. Swallows were dimly 
seen dropping into the chimneys, the 
martins returned to their little boxes, the 
pigeons flew home to their d()V(>-cots, and 
through the open door of a small barn we 
saw the fowls going to roost. The usual 
flood of sunlight liad now become so much 
weakened, that we could look upward long, 
and steadil}-, without the least pain. The 
sun appeared like a young monn of three 
or four days old, though of course with a 
larger and more brilliant crescent. One 
after another, tho stars camo into view, 
more rapidly than in the evening twilight, 
until perhaps fifty stars apjicared to us, in 
a broad dark zone of the heavens, crown- 
ing the pines on the western mountain. 
This wonderful vision of the stars, during 
tho noontide hours of day, tilleil tli(" spirit 
with singular sensations. Suddenly, one 
of my brothers shouted aloud, " The 
moon!" Quicker than thought, my eye 
turned eastward again, and there floated 
the moon, distinctly apparent, to a degree 
that was almost fearful. Tho sj)herical 
form, the character, tho dignity, the sul>- 
stance of the planet, were clearly revealed, 
as I liave never beheld tliem before, or 
since. It looked grand, dark, majestic, 
and mighty. Darkness like that of early 
night now fell upon the village. A few 
cows, believing that niglit liad overtaken 
them, were coming homeward fron\ the 
wild o]ien jiastures ; the dew was falling 
perceptibly, and tho thernionu'ter must 
have fallen many degrees from the great 
heat of the morning. The lake, the hills, 
and tho buildings of the little town, were 
swallowed \ip in the darkness. All labor 
had ceased. The plaintive note of the 
whippowil was distinctly heard. A bat 
came flitting about our heads. Many stars 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



199 



were now \'isible. At twelve minutes past 
eleven, the moon stood revealed in its 
greatest distinctness — a vast black orb, so 
nearly obscuring the sun that the face of 
the great luminary was entirely and abso- 
lutely darkened, though a corona of rays 
of light appeared bej-ond. The gloom of 
night was upon us. A breathless intensity 
of interest was felt by all. A group of 
silent, dusky forms stood near me ; one 
emotion appeared to govern all. Three 
minutes of darkness, all but absolute, 
elapsed. They appeared strangely length- 
ened by the intensity of feeling, and the 
flood of overpowering thought which filled 
the mind.'' Mr. Cooper concludes this 
record of his pleasing recollections, by 
stating some of the appearances accompa- 
nying the restoration of light, and tlie 
joyous manifestations on the part of those 
who witnessed it. 

The calculations made and recorded by 
Bowditch, show that the beginning of the 
eclipse was at six minutes and twenty-four 
seconds past ten o'clock ; the beginning of 
total darkness was at twenty-five minutes 
and twenty-six seconds past eleven, and 
it ended at thirty minutes and fourteen 
seconds past eleven ; the eclipse ended 
at fifty minutes and forty-two seconds 
past twelve ; duration of the eclipse, two 
hours, forty-four minutes, eighteen sec- 
onds ; duration of the total darkness, four 
minutes and forty-eight seconds. In the 
engraved representation of this magnifi- 
cent and solemn spectacle, the luminous 
ring round the moon is exaetlv as it ap- 
peared in the middle of the eclipse. The 
edge of the moon was strongly illumin- 
ated, exhibiting the brilliancy of polished 
silver. 

But, though the eclipse of 1806 was, at 
least in the duration of its totality, mem- 
orable above all precedent, to American 
observers, the total eclipse of August sev- 
enth, 1SG9, was destined to be more im- 
portant in a scientific point of view, and to 
fill a more prominent place in history, on 
accoxint of the great progress in astronomi- 
cal knowledge and the corresponding im- 
provement iu all the instruments of tele- 



scopic observation, characterizing the lapse 
of more than three-score j^ears. 

Beginning in the Pacific ocean, just east 
of Yeddo, the capital of Japan, at sunrise 
there, the shadow's central point first 
struck the earth in the Altair mountain 
range in Russian Asia, one hundred and 
sixty-five and a half degrees west from 
Washington, then jiassing in a northward 
curve still, entered United States territory 
in Alaska, near Prince William's sound, 
at the hour of noon. Thence it rapidly 
traversed British Columbia, hit the center 
of Montana's northern line, struck the 
ISIississippi river near Sioux Citj', Iowa, 
passed tlirough Illinois just north of 
Springfield, shaded segments of Indiana, 
Kentuckj', Virginia, Tennessee, and North 
Carolina, and ended its totality in mid- 
ocean. The course of the eclipse was in 
the form of an ellipse, and the extreme 
limits of the obscuration embraced nearly 
one-half the earth's circumference ; while 
the central circular patch of darkness was 
about one hundred and fifty-six miles in 
diameter. 

Never were more extensive preparations 
made by governments and men of science, 
to have thorough observations of a solar 




TOTAL ECLIPSE IN 1869. 

eclipse, than at this time, and never was 
the weather more propitious for such an 
event to be noted, in all its phenomena. 

At Springfield, Illinois, one of the most 
available spots for observation. Professor 
Peirce, of Harvard College, was in attend- 
ance. When the total obscuration took 
place, the heavens and earth presented a 



200 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



scene of awful sublimity. A brilliant 
amber-colored corona appeared around the 
sun and moon, shooting rays of light out- 
ward in all directions, when the whole hori- 
zon was illuminated with light of the same 
color. The planets Mercury and Venus, and 
a number of fixed stars, were distinctly visi- 
ble, but no planetary orbs between Mercury 
and the sun were discovered. A brilliant 
rose-colored flame, or protuberance, was 
noticed on the western limb of the sun dur- 
ing the period of total obscuration. The 
phenomenon, known as Bailey's beads, was 
also distinctly witnessed. According to 
Prof. Peirce, the last-named appearance is 
occasioned by the refraction of light, and 
the corona, or halo, at the time of totality, 
by the sun's atmosphere. 

Des Moines, Iowa, afforded another most 
favorable locality for the presence of 
astronomers, a slight haze only interfering 
to prevent satisfactory search for the plan- 
ets supposed to exist inside tlie orbit of 
Mercury. Professor Safford's observations 
showed that the first contact occurred at 
three o'clock, forty-three minutes, forty- 
three seconds ; the commencement of the 
total obscurity was at four o'clock, forty- 
five minutes, thirty seconds, and its end 
was at four o'clock, forty-eight minutes, 
twent3'-two seconds ; the last contact was 
at five o'clock, forty-five minutes, eleven 
seconds. 

The points of time thus noted by Pro- 
fessor Safford, were from six to twentj-- 
two seconds later than calculated, according 
to Washington ; E. P. Himenas and Pro- 
fessor Hillyard observing it. A discrep- 
ancy was also noticed between the calcu- 
lation and observation of the corona. It 
was nearly rhomboidal in form, and very 
distinct and extended, at some points half 
a degree bej'ond the edge of the sun's 
disc. The rose-colored j)rotuberances ap- 
peared to the number of five or six, the 
greatest being on the sun's south-western 
quarter. Professor Harkness's observ.a- 
tions of the protuberances, in the spectro- 
scope, showed a different spectra for each. 
But a single band was thrown by the cor- 
ona. Professor Eastman's obiervations of 



the thermometer showed a fall of thirteen 
degrees in the temperature, during the 
progress of the eclipse. Venus and Mer- 
cury could be plainly seen, and the dark- 
ness exceeded that of the night. But the 
most interesting feature in the aspect of 
the sun was the protuberances or lieads. 
The largest one was semi-circular in shajie, 
with a finger extending about one-eighth 
part of the sun's diameter, directly down- 
ward as one looked. Another right limb 
was shaped much like two horns of an ante- 
lojie. The greatest length of the corona 
was in the direction of the elliptic. Valu- 
able observations were also made here by 
Professors Peters, Fraser, Rogers, Norton, 
and Lane. 

Professors Hough and Murray made 
some valuable observations at Mattoon, 
Illinois, one of their instruments being priv 
vided with means for accurately measuring 
the diversions of the protuberances on the 
sun or corona. AVlien the sun became 
totally obscured, the darkness was equal to 
that of a moonlight night, and the temper- 
ature w.is forty-two degrees cooler than one 
hour before. Six spots were visible on the 
surface of the sun before the eclipse, two 
of which were very prominent, and the 
others much less. The cusps on the moon 
li.ad a ragged and blurred appearance, and, 
near them, Bailey's beads were seen by all 
observers, extending through an arc of 
fifty degrees. The moment the ediiise 
became total, the flame-like jjrotuberances 
were seen with wonderful distinctness, one 
very large on the lowt-r limb of the sun, 
and three nearly as large on the upjier 
limbs, while at least seven or eight of 
them in all were visible. The one on the 
right hand, or lower limb, had somewhat 
the appearance of a full-rigged ship with 
sails set. In its part nearest the moon 
were two or three jet black spots. To the 
naked eye, it seemed as though there were 
openings in the moon, two on the east side 
and one on the south-west .side. Just after 
the total obscurity, through the openings, 
the lurid glow of the sun was plainly visi- 
ble. The corona was not, as generally 
described, a halo of light surrounding the 



GREAT AND MEISIOEABLE EVENTS. 



201 



moon, but appeared in the shape of five 
forked prongs on the upper circumference 
of the moon. These points presented a 
radiant appearance. The generally-re- 
ceived theory regarding this corona — that 
it is the atmosphere of the sun — did not 
seem to be sustained by the observations 
made at this point. Although search was 
made, no planetary bodies were observed 
between Mercurj^ and the sun. During the 
totality phase, Mercury, Venus, Regulus, 
Mars, Saturn, Denebata, and other stars, 
appeared in full view. The temperature 
in the shade, at the beginning of the 
eclipse, was sevent_v-seven degrees ; during 
the totality, forty-five degrees ; and at the 
end of the eclipse, it had risen to seventy 
degrees. At three o'clock and forty min- 
utes, in the sun, on the grass, the ther- 
mometer was at one hundred degrees. At 
a few minutes after four, it rose to one 
hundred and two degrees, while during the 
totality it fell to sixty, but subsequently 
rose to eighty. 

Dr. B. A. Gould and Professor Cofiin 
had charge of the observations made at 
Burlington, Iowa, by direction of the 
United States government, with whom 
wei-e also associated Professors Morton, 
Mayer, Hines, Watson, Merriman, Van 
Fleck, Johnson, and others, either as ob- 
servers or visitors. Two points were paid 
special attention to at this place, namely, 
a search for those planets which Leverrier 
supposed to exist between the sun and 
Mercury, and the character of the corona. 

For this purpose, a telescope of peculiar 
construction was emploj'ed, being of the 
least magnif3'ing power combined with the 
greatest intensity of light possible. The 
attempts at measuring the corona were 
necessarily vague, but its height above the 
edge of the moon was computed at full six- 
teen minutes, — some four hundred and 
forty thousand miles, — while the stream- 
ers, or longer projections of its light, 
extended some thirty minutes beyond the 
surface, the whole diameter of the sun 
being thirty-two minutes. The color of 
the moon during the total obscuration was 
observed, and decided to be not jet black, 



as represented by some, but a dark slate 
color. The corona was an exquisitely pure 
white, which, as it faded into the dark 
background of the sky, became gray. It 
was visible one minute and twentj'-six 
seconds before totality, and one minute 
after, and was extremely variable in sj-m- 
metry of form. Three sketches were 
taken in less than three minutes of the 
duration, in which the corona showed 
marked change of outline. The protuber- 
ances commonly called rosy, by observers 
at other places, here looked white to the 
naked eye, with an opera-glass slightlj' ro- 
seate, and with the telescope red. At the 
moment of totality, the planets were visi- 
ble, ranged in perfect brilliancy ; Mercury, 
rudd}' as Mars, and Arcturus and Eegulus, 
fixed stai's of the first magnitude, were 
plain to the unassisted ej-e. The right 
protuberance on the sun's lower limb had 
a cellular or honey-combed appearance, not 
like a flame. 

In the search made at Burlington for 
intra-mercurial planets, the light was shut 
off of the corona by means of occulting 
circles, and the region was carefully stud- 
ied. Search was made for the star Pi Le- 
onis, a fixed star of five and eight-tenths 
magnitude, fifty minutes distance from the 
sun, and it was actually seen, j-et so faint, 
that, if it had not been known to be there, 
it could not have been discovered. If 
there were any star of the fifth or sixth 
magnitude there, it would have been 
observed ; but no such star could be 
detected. 

Great preparations were made at Shel- 
byville, Kentucky, for a complete observ- 
ance of the phenomenon. One of the 
most interesting discoveries made here, by 
Professor "Winlock, at the spectroscope, 
was that of eleven bright lines in the 
spectrum of the protuberances of the sun, 
instead of the smaller number hitherto 
determined. He also observed a shower 
of meteors between the earth and moon. 
The beautiful protuberances appeared as 
red flames, and were seen by the naked 
eye. Bailey's beads, as well as the dark 
and dismal shadows of the moon, sailing 



202 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



away through the air, were noted. Mr. 
Searle, whose sjieciulty it was to seareh 
for intra-iuereurial planets, did not succeed 
in finding any, reporting nothing fainter 
than Reguhis near the sun. Some mo- 
ments before tlie total phase, the usual 
phenomena of distraction among the birds 
of the air and the cattle occurred. Six 
minutes before totality, a deathly ashen 
hue overspread the countenances of all, 




ECLII-8E, AS SEEN IS BRAZIL, 



and for a while the faint-hearted were 
almost terrified. The general phenomena 
at all the jilaces where the eclipse was 
complete, or nearly so, were the vacilla- 
tion of the wind, the deep, strange shadow, 
the yellowish pink atmosphere in the west, 
the tiickei-ing and wavy appearance of the 
sun's rays when the eclipse was at its 
height, till- iliilly feeling, the disturbance 
among the birds and fowls, and the sight 
of certain planets with the naked eye. 

At Newbern, North Carolina, the ther- 
mometer fell ten and one-half degrees, 
during the time from first contact to total 
obscuration. The sky was intenseh' blue, 
at totalit}', and studded with glittering 
stars, while the north-west glowed with a 
deep crimson orange hue. Around the 
black body of the moon glowed a ring of 
molten silver, whence radiated the corona, 
an imniiMise halo; and, just as the last 
rays of the sun disappeared, this halo, 
with prominent projections like a huge 
star, burst out all around the disc of the 
moon, forming a most impressive climax 
to the whole phenomenon ; directly at the 
bottom, glowed with intense brilliancy a 



rose-colored projection, visible to the naked 
eye ; a few seconds more, and another 
glittered at the extreme right — and then 
another, and, successively, six or more 
pale ruby brilliants burned with dazzling 
effulgence in their silver setting; a second 
or two more, and the silvering on the right 
melted into golden beads; another, and 
the glorious sunlight flashed forth. The 
corona disappeared. The northern sky 
was radiant with a new daj--brcak at six 
o'clock in the afternoon, the dark shadow 
of the moon swept southward, and the 
chilly" gloominess rolled away into the 
southern sky. The small amount of light 
that fell upon the trees and buildings, just 
before and after the total obscuration, 
lighted them up with a brilliancy most 
peculiar; the light was more diffusive 
than moonlight, and the shadows were 
more distinctly marked and visible. It 
was a pale golden light ; the edges of the 
distant woods were more apparent than in 
the full sunlight, each tree seeming to 
stand out by itsilf, — the nearest approach 
to such a light being that known as the 
calcium, the latter, however, being white 
instead of pale golden. At the instant of 
complete obscuriition, when the corona 
flashed around the dark disc of the moon, 
there also flashed into view the larger stars 
and planets. Venus, twice an evening 
star in one day, hung half-way down from 
the zenith ; near the sun glistened a star 
of the first magnitude, Regulus ; while 
overhead the intense blue sky was full of 
them. 

Much scientific interest centered around 
the expedition sent by government to the 
new and distant territory of Alaska. This 
expedition left Sitka. July 15fh, in an 
open boat, for the Chilkah river, but, in 
consequence of bad weather, it was eleven 
davs in reaching the positions selected — 
only twenty miles from the central path of 
totality. It was found impracticable to 
carry the instruments and provisions over 
Iron Mountain range, for the determina- 
tion of the latitude and longitude and the 
magnetic variation obtained, before the 
date of the eclipse. The seventh of 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



203 



August was the cloudiest day experienced, 
but breaks in the clouds enabled the party 
to watch different pliases, and the begin- 
ning of totality was accurately noted. In- 
stantly after obscuration, rose-colored 
flames were visible to the unassisted eye, 
and their extent, position, elevation, and 
approximit^-, measured on the south-east 
and south-west parts of the sun's limb. 
Tiie corona was visible over a part of the 
limb only. The end of the eclipse was not 
seen, but the whole picture was magnifi- 
cent. The phenomena of coming darkness 
and growing light were verj* marked along 
the course of the valky. The Hon. W. 
H. Seward, and his accompanying tourists, 
visited Professor Davidson's camp, and 
watched with intense interest and solemn 
delight the phases of the eclipse, particu- 
larly the rose-colored flames and corona. 
A party at the mouth of the river had the 
best view of the totalitj' ; the clouds broke, 
and a large clear space enabled them to see 
the flames and corona, in their marvelous- 
beauty, also the planet Mercury', and stars 
of the fourth magnitude. At Sitka, the 
eclipse was watched through broken 
clouds. The Indians were fearfully 
alarmed, and hid themselves in their 
houses, or took to the bushes. 

As usual, on the occurrence of such a 



wonderful sight, some strange incidents 
transpired. In his account of the observa- 
tions made by Professor Watson, at Mount 
Pleasant, Iowa, Professor Tyler narrates 
the case of a good man who went round 
the town for days beforehand, and de- 
nounced the impietj- of the scientific pro- 
ceedings going on — that the astronomers 
were profanely attempting to pry into 
God's secrets, and that he had veiled his 
sun in order to baftle them. The cloudy 
weather which continued up to the last 
day seemed to give some support to Iiis 
declarations ; but, notwithstanding his 
assertion that God would keep liis rain 
a-going, and prevent the use of their irre- 
ligious telescopes, the daj- cleared off with 
the utmost splendor. Another local 
prophet announced tjiat the eclipse was a 
judgment upon the world for its abomina- 
tions, and that the jsath of its shadow over 
the earth would be marked bj- utter blight. 
But these deluded prophets of evil were, 
indeed, rare exceptions ; millions of man- 
kind watched, with reverential and de- 
lighted satisfaction, the obedience of the 
two great luminaries to the eternal laws 
which govern their existence; and Science, 
the hand-maid and interpreter of Nature, 
gave new assurance of her sublime and 
beneficent mission. 



XX. 

COXSPIRACT AND TRIAL OF AAROX BURR— 180G. 



Lawless Sdieme of Conquest and Dominion at the South-west. — A New Empire Contemplated, 
witli Burr as Sovereign. — Seizure of His Flotilla and Dispersion of His Men when Ready 
to Embark, by the Federal Forces. — Capture and Arraignment of Burr for High Trea- 
son. — Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in 
His Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged — Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the 
Whole Plot — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise.— Scene at His Arrest. — 
Attempt to Escape. — The Iron-hearted Man in Tears. — His Social Fascination. — Preparations 

for the Trial. — Its Legal and Forensic In- 
terest — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — 
Shunned as a Man of Infamy. — Devotion of 
His Daughter Theodosia — Lifelong and Un- 
alterable Love — Her Mysterious Fate. — 
Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral 
Wreck and Warning. 




" in« foiintry'i cime. hU chlldren'ii shame. 
Outcast of vlituc, peace, and fiimc." 



reniaincil for Aaron Burr to add one more 
political crime to his corrupt career as a public man, and one 
more dark chapter to his country's history. 8taggcriii}^ unilcr the weight of ob- 
lo(]uy ami disgrace brought down ujion him by liis cold-Moiided disposal of Alex- 
ander Hamilton, on the fatal plains of "Weehawken, lie still sought some means of 
triumphing over his enemies and attaining distinction and power. Strong and 
resolute in the ojjerations of his ever-active mind, liis ambition was etjually restless 
and far-reaching. Abandoned by his onc^admiring political associates, he became an 
exile, in one of the then far-off western states, liis brain teeming with schemes of 
woaltl), conquest, and dominion. 

In the autumn of 180G, President Je£fer.son learned that mysterious proceedings 
were going on along the Ohio ; boats preparing, stores of provisions collecting, and 
a number of suspicious characters in movement. A confidential agent sent by the 
government authorities to the spot, warned the president that Burr was the prime 
mover; and General Wilkinson, who commanded near New Orleans, intimated that 
propositions of a daring and dangerous import had been transmitted to him by 
that personage. The ostensible pretext was, the forming of a large agricultural 
settlement on the banks of the Washita in Louisiana, a tributary of the Jlississiiipi ; 
Imt the various preparations, the engagement for six months onl3-, the purchase 
and building of boats, the provision of muskets and bayonets, pointed to something 
of a very different character — cither the formation of the western territory into a 
separate government, or an expedition against Mexico, sought to be justified by a 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



205 



boundary difference that had arisen with 
Spain. In fact, the erection of a new 
empire, with Burr at its head. 

Burr's chief associate in the plans which 
he had thus formed was Harman Blenner- 
liassett, and the story of tlieir acquain- 
tance, friendship and confederation, 
borders strongly on the romantic. Blen- 
nerhassett was one of the Irish patriots 
who were compelled to flee from Ireland 
after their attempt to liberate themselves 
from the thralldom of England, and was 
the classmate and friend of the celebrated 
Thomas Addis Emmett. He was pos- 
sessed of a large amount of property, the 
greater part of which he was fortunate 
enough to render available in money 
before his departure. Disgusted with the 
corruption of courts, and glad to escape 
the turmoil of politics, he sought retire- 
ment in the western wilderness, on a beau- 
tiful island in the Ohio, then on the 
borders of civilization. Here he built a 
princely mansion, and embellished it in a 
most costly manner. Situated on the 
borders of Virginia, Kentucky and Ohio, 
he had access to very refined society, with 
which it was his custom constantly' to 
intermingle and exchange civilities. His 
hospitality was unbounded ; and, dealt out 
as it was by his own chivalric courtesy 
and the grace of his beautiful wife, his 
island became the general resort for all 
the countrj' around, and it is even yet cel- 
ebrated for the splendid revelries and 
entertainments of which it was once the 
scene. 

Blennerhassett was a fine sample of a 
polished Irish gentleman, and rendered 
himself a very affectionate object of regard, 
by the amenity of his manners and his 
disposition. His lady was a woman of 
rare beauty and accomplishments, which 
were heightened by a pure and unimpeach- 
able character. She reigned the queen of 
this beautiful kingdom of taste and refine- 
ment which Blennerhassett had created on 
the Ohio ; and, according to contemporary 
accounts, she deported herself with an ele- 
gance and dignity that might have become 
a throne. She was also a woman of high 



spirit and ambition, and when Burr, aware 
of her commanding influence over her hus- 
band, contidentiallj' intrusted her with his 
plans, she was fired with the boldness and 
intrepidity of his enterprise, and immedi- 
ately determined to engage her husband as 
an associate. Blennerhassett, being a 
man of ductile temper, was easily induced 
by the dazzling representations of prosjiec- 
tive glorj' and honor which were set before 
him, to become a participator with Burr. 
He was, moreover, a liberalist of the 
French school, of which fact Aaron Burr 
was well aware ; and it would seem that 
the gorgeous picture which Burr held up 
to him, of Mexico redeemed from tyranny 
bj'. their united efforts, inspired his whole 
nature, as he entered with enthusiasm into 
what he was led to regard an honorable 
and humane undertaking. 

When once pledged to Biirr, under the 
mastering genius of his wife, tlie exiled 
patriot actively engaged in enlisting men, 
building boats, and jireparing the essen- 
tials of his expedition. Many of the most 
respectable citizens of the neighboring 
country, being influenced bj' the flattering 
pi'omises held out, were induced to con- 
tribute funds, and connect themselves with 
the affair. The entertainments on the 
island were, with the progress of events, 
broken up, and its shores echoed only to 
the mutfled oar of the conspirators, as they 
crossed from the adjacent banks, or to the 
tramp of bold adventurers, as they congre- 
gated on the beach to resolve and discuss 
their plans. 

Tliough somewhat anticipating the 
thread of the narrative, it may here be 
stated, as illustrating the character of a 
truly lirave woman and devoted wife, that 
a large number of flat-boats had been buil-t 
on the Muskingum, and sent over to the 
island, and everything was ripe for a 
movement, when the plot became known 
to the public authorities. Blennerhassett 
was very speedily deserted by his follow- 
ers; and Buell, who commanded the gov- 
ernment militia, went over with a small 
detachment to arrest Burr's great accom- 
plice. He had hardly set his foot on the 



206 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S76. 



island, before he was met by Mrs. Blen- 
niThassett, whose spirit seemed to rise with 
the increasing desperation of her fortunes. 
She had seen the party coming, and, 
snatching up a pair of her husband's pis- 
tols, she ran from the liouse to meet them. 
Just as the militia-major stepiied out of 
the boat, she seized him by the shoulder, 
and, thrusting him back, presented two 
formidable pistols full in his face, cocked 
and primed, saying in the most positive 
tone, — 

" One step farther, and I will send i/ou 
into eterniti/; it is easier for me to do than 
to say it!" 

Hit splendid figure, drawn up to its 
full height, her eye fixed with a strong 
and determined gaze, her hands clenching 
firmly the weapons which she held at 
arm's length, — these told the militia- 
major, in language not to bo mistaken, the 
tiTins on which he might advance. It is 
no disparagement of his military or manly 
qualities to saj', that the old soldier quailed 
before the courageous woman and her trag- 
ical determination, and was forced to turn 
without his victim. 

Tlie frustration of Burr's scheme was 
largely due to the revelations made by 
General Wilkinson, in whom Burr had 
confided so far as to communicate quite 
fully the character and mode of the 
proposed expedition. The tenor of this 
communication was, that he, Burr, had ob- 
■ tained funds, and had actually commenced 
the enterprise, detachments from different 
points and under different pretenses being 
ready to rendezvous on the Ohio by the 
first of Niivember, to meet on the Missis- 
si[)pi, — Wilkinson to be second in com- 
mand to Burr onl^', and to dictate the 
rank and promotion of the oflficers. Burr 
was to proceed westward with his daugh- 
ter, whose husband would follow in Octo- 
ber, with a company of choice sj)irits. 
Wilkinson was also asked to send an intel- 
ligent and confidential friend to confer 
with Burr, — bringing a list of all persons 
known to the general, west of the moun- 
tains, likely to prove useful, — together 
with four or five commissions of Wilkin- 



son's oflScers, to be borrowed upon some 
pretense, and dul}' to be returned. To 
this was added the assurance, that already 
had orders been given to the contractor, 
to forward six months' provisions to jioints 
Wilkinson should name — this not to be 
used until the last moment, and then 
under proper injunctions. Burr stated his 
plan of operations to be as follows : To 
move down rapidly from the I'alls on the 
fifteenth of November, with the first five 
hundred or one thousand men in light 
boats, to be at Natchez between the fifth 
and fifteenth of December,, there to meet 
Wilkinson and determine as to the expe- 
diency of seizing on or passing by Baton 
Rouge ; that the people of the country to 
which the movement was directed were 
ready to extend a cordial welcome, their 
agents then with Burr declaring that, if 
lie would protect their religion and not 
subject them to a foreign power, in three 
weeks all would be settled. In concluding 
his letter to Wilkinson, Burr in glowing 
rhapsody said: 

" The gods invite to glory and fortune! 
It remains to be seen whether we deserve 
the boon. The bearer of this goes exjiress 
to you ; he will hand a formal letter of 
intrwluction to j'ou from Burr. He is a 
man of inviolable honor and perfect dis- 
cretion, formed to execute rather than to 
project, capable of relating facts with fidel- 
ity and incapable of relating them other- 
wise ; he is thoroughly informed of the 
plans and intentions of Burr, and will dis- 
close to you as far as you inijuire, and no 
farther. He has imbibed a reverence for 
your character, and may be embarrassed 
in your presence; put him at ease and he 
will satisfy you." 

It appeared to be Burr's plan, to make 
Blennerhassett's island, in the Ohio river, 
the place of rendezvous ; there to fit out 
Ijoats furnished w ith armed men, and send 
them down the river. 

Burr had counted too confidently upon 
Wilkinson's becoming an accessory and 
participant. The latter instantly resolved, 
after reading the ci]iher-letter, to avail 
himself of the reference it made to the 



GREAT Ai!iD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



207 



bearer, Mr. Swartwout, and, in the course 
of some da^'s, drew from him the following 
disclosure : — That he had been dispatched 
by Colonel Burr from Philadelphia ; had 
passed through the states of Ohio and 
Kentuckj', and proceeded from Louisville 
for St. Louis, expecting there to find Wil- 
kinson ; but discovering that Wilkinson 
had descended the river, he procured a 
skiff, hired hands, and followed the gen- 
eral down the Mississippi to Fort Adams, 
and from thence set out for Natchitoches, 
in company with Captains Spark and 
Hooke, under the pretense of a disposition 
to take part in the campaign against the 
Spaniards, then pending. That Colonel 
Burr, with the support of a powerful asso- 
ciation extending from New York to New 
Orleans, was levying an armed body of 
seven thousand men from the western 
states and territories, with a view to cari-y 
an expedition against the provinces of 
Mexico, and that five hundred men, under 
the command of Colonel Swartwout and 
a Colonel or Major Tyler, were to de- 
scend the AUeghanj', for whose accom- 
modation light-boats had been built and 
were ready. 

In reply to Wilkinson's inquirj', as to 
what course was to be pursued, answer 
was made that the territory would be revo- 
lutionized, where the people were ready to 
join them ; that tliere would be some seiz- 
ing, probably, at New Orleans ; that they 
expected to be ready to march or embark 
about the first of Februarj-, intending to 
land at Vera Cruz, and to march from 
thence to Mexico. General Wilkinson now 
remarked, " Tliere are several millions of 
dollars in the bank of this place ; " to 
which reply was made, " We hnow it full 
well." On the general's further observing 
that he presumed they certainly did not 
mean to violate private property. Burr's 
agent said that they meant to borrow, and 
would return it ; that they must equip 
themselves in New Orleans, that they 
expected naval protection from Great Brit- 
ain; that the captains and officers of the 
American navy were so disgust('<l with the 
government, that they were ready to join ; 



that similar disgusts prevailed throughout 
the western country, where the people 
were zealous in favor of the enterprise, 
and that pilot-boat built schooners had 
been contracted for along the southern 
coast for their service. 

Though determined to deceive him, if 
possible, General Wilkinson avers — not- 
withstanding the charge which has been 
brought against him of at one time favor- 
ing and subsequently turning his back 
upon Burr's scheme — that he replied that 
he could never dishonor his commission ; 
that he also duped the agent bj- expressing 
admiration of the plan, and by observing, 
that, although he could not join the expe- 
dition, the engagements which the Span- 
iards had prepared for him at the front 
might prevent his opposing it. Yet, as 
soon as General W^ilkinson had fully 
deciphered the letter, he declared his inten- 
tion to oppose the lawless enterprise with 
all the force at his command, and immedi- 
ately informed President Jefferson. With 
the exception of the attack on the frigate 
Chesapeake, Commodore Barron, by the 
British frigate Leopard, and the embargo 
and non-intercourse measures against 
England, few occurrences caused greater 
anxiety to the president, during his eight 
j-ears' official term, than this of Burr. 

Government spies had for some time 
been on Burr's track, and, in view of his 
supposed design to attempt a separation of 
the western states from the federal union, 
the governor of Ohio was authorized by 
the legislature to proceed in such a manner 
as he deemed best to check and break up 
the movement. Accordingly, by the 
middle of December, ten boats with stores 
were arrested on the Muskingum, and in a 
short time after, four more were seized by 
the troops at Marietta. Blennerhassett, 
Tyler, and about fortj' others, left the 
island on the night of December tenth, 
and sailed down the river, barely c.scajiing 
arrest by the military authorities of Ohio. 
On the sixteenth, this party united with 
one commanded by Davis Floyd, at tlie 
Falls, and, ten days after, the whole force 
joined Burr at the mouth of the Cumber- 



208 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




BDRR AXD UIS DELUDED FOLLOWERS. 

land; on tlie twonty-nintli, tliu jidvcntur- 
ers passed Fort JIassac. 

In the meantime, tlie United Stiites 
governmoiit liad not lieen inactive. Pres- 
ident Jefferson's jjroclaniatiou cautioned 
all citizens against joining the enterprise, 
and orders were issued to the United 
States troops, then stationed along the 
Ohio and Mississippi, to capture the boats 
and make ])risoners all on board of them, 
including, of course, the chief conspirator. 
Ample precaution had likewise been taken 
by General Wilkinson, for the protection 
and defense of New Orleans. On the 
fourth of January, Hurr was at Fort Pick- 
ering, Chickasaw Bluffs ; and soon after at 
Bayou I'ierre. But as he approached 
Now Orleans, he fotind such a state of 
things in respect to public sentiment and 
military equi]>ment, as to completely baffle 
his plans. He accordingly proceeded to 
the Tombigbee, on his way to Florida, 



having landed with a single companion on 
the banks of the Itlississippi, in the middle 
of January. 

Close pursuit was made of Burr by 
Lieutenant Edmund P. Gaines, at the 
head of a file of mounted soldiers, and in a 

ii>rt time they encountered the object of 
their searcl), with his traveling comjianion. 
Gaines rode forward, and accosting one of 
the strangers, whom he susjiected to be 
the leader-in-chief, remarked — 

" I presume, sir, that I have the honor 
of addressing Colonel Burr." 

"I am a traveler," answered Burr, "and 
in a strange land, and do not recognize 
your right to ask such a question." 

"/ arrest you," responded Gaines, "at 
the instance of the United States." 

"By what authority do you arrest me, 
a stranger, on the highway, on my own 
private business ? " 

" I am an officer of the United States 
army, and hold in n^Y hand the jiroclania- 
tion of the president, as well as that of the 
governor of the Mississiii])i territory, 
directing your arrest." 

" But you are a young man, and i)erha])s 
not aware of the resj)onsibilit3' of thus 
arresting a traveler." 

" I am perfectly aware of my duties, in 
the premises, and shall endeavor to per- 
form them." 

Burr now broke out in a stream of vehe- 
ment denunciation of the proclamations, 



GREAT JlNT> memorable EVENTS. 



209 



and warning Gaines that, in carrying out 
their illegal requisitions, he would be in- 
curring the most serious liabilities. His 
manner was firm, his tone imperious, his 
words keen and forcible ; but the resolute 
young officer told him his mind was made 
up, — the prisoner must accompany him to 
his quarters, where he would be ti'eated 
with all the respect due the ex-vice- 
president of the United States, so long as 
he made no attempt to escape. He was 
then conducted to Fort Stoddart, and 
thence was conveyed on horseback, in 
cliarge of Captain Perkins, to Richmond, 
Virginia, to be tried by the United States 
on a charge of high treason, before Chief- 
Justice Marshall, of the supreme federal 
court. 

Strange and rapid were Burr's vicissi- 
tudes. From being vice-president of the 
republic, the idol of a powerful and domi- 
nant party, he had become the slayer of 
America's greatest statesman, and then a 
bold and disowned adventurer. Defeated 
and pursued, he was indeed a hopeless 
fugitive. When he fled from the authori- 
ties in the Mississippi territory, he dis- 
guised himself in a boatman's dress ; his 
pantaloons were of coarse, copperas-dyed 
cloth, with a roundabout of inferior drab; 
his hat, a flapping, wide-brim beaver, had, 
in times long past, been white, but now 
gave evidence of having encountered much 
rough weather. He finally found himself 
a jJrisoner, on his way to be arraigned be- 
fore a jury of his country, for high crimes 
and misdemeanors. Yet his fascinating 
power over men's minds was not yet 
extinguished. On being placed under 
guard, to be conveyed to Richmond, it was 
thought necessary by the directing officer, 
to take every man composing the squad 
aside, and obtain the most solemn pledges 
that, upon the whole route, they would 
hold no interviews with Burr, nor suffer 
him to escape alive. His power of fasci- 
nating and making strong impressions 
upon the human mind, and attaching men 
to him by association, could allow of no 
familiarity. 

A characteristic incident occurred on 
14 



the route to Richmond. On reaching the 
confines of South Caroliija, Captain Per- 
kins watched Burr more closely than ever ; 
for, in this state lived the son-in-law of 
Burr, Colonel Allston, a gentleman of 
talents, wealth and influence, and after- 
wards governor of the state. Upon enter- 
ing the frontiers of Georgia, Perkins 
endeavored to convey his prisoner in 
by-roads, to avoid the towns, lest he should 
be rescued. The plan was attended with 
difficulty ; they were often lost — the march 
impeded — the highway again resumed. 
Before entering the town of Chester, in 
South Carolina, the party halted. Two 
men were placed before Burr, two on 
either side, and two behind, and, in this 
manner, they passed near a tavern on the 
street, where many persons were standing, 
and music and dancing were heard in the 
house. Burr conceived it a favorable 
opportunity for escape, and, suddenly dis- 
mounting, exclaimed — 

"I am Aaron Burr, under military 
arrest, and claim protection of the civil 
authorities ! " 

Perkins leaped from his horse, with 
several of his men, and ordered him 
instantly to re-mount. 

" lu'iU not!" replied Burr. 

Not wishing to shoot him, Perkins 
threw down his jjistols, and, being a man 
of prodigious strength, and the prisoner 
rather small, seized him around the waist 
and placed him in his saddle, as though he 
was a child. One of the guards now 
caught the reins of the bridle, slipped 
them over the horse's head, and led him 
rapidly on. The astonished citizens had 
seen a party enter their village with a 
prisoner ; had heard him appeal to them 
for protection ; had witnessed the feat of 
Perkins ; and the party vanished, before 
they had time to recover from their confu- 
sion — for, when Burr dismounted, the 
guards cocked their pistols, and the people 
ran within the piazza to escape from 
danger. Far off in the outskirts of the 
village, the party again halted. Burr 
was intensely agitated ; the hitherto iron- 
hearted man was in tears! It was the 



210 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



first time any one had ever seen Aaron 
Burr unmanned. 

Ou trial, at hist, tlie whole United 
States waited the result with profoundest 
interest. It was one of the most memora- 
ble state occasions, in the history of human 
governments. Upon the bench sat the 
venerated Marshall, calm, dignified, 
learned. For the prosecution, there aj)- 
peared District Attorney Hay and the 
renowned William Wirt. For the defend- 
ant, Luther iMartin, Edniuud Kandolph, 
Jcihn Wickham, Benjamin Botts, and, 
rivaling all the rest. Burr himself. On 
the jury were such men as John Randolph 
and Littleton W. Tazewell. Among the 
spectators were Commodore Tru.xton, Gen- 
erals Eaton and Jackson, Washington 
Irving, Wiufield Scott, William B. Giles, 
John Taylor. Burr was of course the cen- 
tral figure in this master scene. After a 
trial lasting three or four weeks in mid- 
summer, during which the legal exertions 
and forensic talent and power displayed on 
both sides were indeed prodigious, the 
jury returned a verdict, " that Aaron Burr 
is not proved to be guilt}', under the 
indictment, by any evidence submitted to 
us; we, therefore, find him not guilty." 
The prosecution failed and broke down in 
its legal proofs, and consequently the 
indictments against the other conspirators 
were never pursued. 

Blennerhassett found himself strijijied 
of his possessions, because of what he had 
embarked in this calamitous expedition. 
He went to England, in quest of an a]i- 
pointment to office, ai)d to Inland, tn limk 
after some reversionary claims, but unsuc- 
cessfully in both cases, and, bankrupt and 
broken-hearted, he removed to the isle of 
Guernsey, and there died in 1831. Mrs. 
Blennerhassett died, a few j'ears after, in 
New York, in the most abject poverty, 
and was buried by some Irish females. 

Burr, without friends or fortune, became 
an exile in Europe, where he lived in ex- 
treme penury, and everywhere shunned as 
a felon and outlaw. He was peremptorily 
ordered by the government of England to 
quit that realm, being regarded as a spy. 



and, on going to France, was there kept 
uniler the closest police surveillance. Re- 
turning after some years of this kind of 
life, to his native land, he resumed the 
profession of the law, but the ban of soci- 
ety rested upon him, and he was, as he 
himself expressed it, severed from the rest 
of mankind. 

Yet there was one in the wide world 
who never ceased to pour ujwn Aaron 
Burr the richest treasures of woman's 
adoring love. This was his daughter 
Theodosia, the beautiful and accomidished 
wife of Governor Allston, of South Caro- 
lina. As has been truly said, by one of the 
many eulogists of this marvelous woman, 
her love for her father partook of the purity 
of abetter world,— akin, indeed, to the affec- 
tion which a celestial spirit might be suj)- 
posed to entertain for a parent cast down 
from heaven, for sharing in the sin of the 
'Son of the Morning.' Thus it was, that, 
when in the midst of his deepest obloquy, 
and when the whole world, as it were, 
looked upon him, abhorrently, as a de- 
praved monster, the loving and beloved 
Theodosia could write : 




"I witness your extraordinary fortitude 
with new wonder at every new misfortune. 
Often, after reflecting upon this subject, 
you appear to me so superior, so elevated 



GEEAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 



211 



above all other men; I contemplate you 
with such a strange mixture of humility, 
admiration, reverence, love and jn'ide, that 
very little superstition would be necessary to 
make me worship you as a superior being ; 
such enthusiasm does your character excite 
in me. When I afterward revert to my- 
self, how insignificant do my best qualities 
appear. My vanity would be greater, if I 
had not been placed so near you ; and yet 
my pride is our relationship. I had rather 
not live than not be the daughter of such a 
man." 

Never had the worthiest and most vir- 
tuous of fathers so touching a tribute of 
love and reverence from a child, as this 
from the beautiful and gifted Theodosia, 
to a parent whose verj' name was regarded 
by men as the synonym of dishonor and 
pollution. His love for her, too, was con- 
stant and unbounded, — a mutual, fervent, 
enthusiastic love, between the two, that 
almost passes belief, and which no descrijJ- 
tion could adequately characterize. Yet 
it was the destiny of this man to have 
torn and swept from him the last and onlj"^ 
tie that kept him in sympathy with his 
kind. Returning from his exile in Europe, 
to the land where he was still regarded as 



little else than a fiend in human shape, his 
heart was buoyed with the expectation of 
soon clasping to his arms her in whom his 
earthly all-in-all centered. Alas ! he was 
j'et to drain the cup of its nether dregs. 
Hastening to meet her father on his ar- 
rival at New York, Theodosia took passage 
from Charleston, on the 30th of December, 
in 1812, in the small pilot schooner Patriot, 
just from a privateering cruise. But, 
though a fine sailer, with the best of offi- 
cers, the vessel was never seen, nor heard 
from, after leaving port. Whether the 
vessel took fire and was thus destroj'ed 
with all on board, or foundered in the gale 
which occurred soon after she left Charles- 
ton, or was taken by the pirates then 
infesting the high seas, is unknown to this 
day. It was a blow which brought inde- 
scribable dismay and agony to Burr. 
Utterly bereft and alone, shunned as a 
murderer, and despised as a plotter against 
his country, his wretched existence was 
prolonged to past four-score years, when 
he went down in loneliness to the grave, 
"unwejjt, unhonored, and unsung." Of 
his accomplished and affectionate daughter, 
all tongues and pens have unitedly spoken 
as " Theodosia the beloved." 



XXI. 

FULTON'S TRIUMPHANT APPLICATION OF STEAM TO 

NAVIGATION.— 180 T. 



First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters Under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced by the 
Exliibitlon. — Great Era in National Development. — The World at Large Indebted to American 
Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Revolutionary Agent in Human Progress and Power. — 
The Whole Scale of Civilization Enlarged. — Fulton's Early Mechanisms. — His Inventive Projects 
Abroad. — Steam Propulsion the End Sought. — Various Experiments and Trials. — Livingston's 
Valued Co-operation. — Studying the Principle Involved. — Its Discovery at Last. — Legislative En- 
couragement Asked. — Public Ridicule of the Scheme. — Construction of a Steamboat. — The " Queer- 
Looking Craft." — Incidents at the Launch. — Undaunted Confidence of Fulton. — Sailing of the 
" New-Fangled Craft." — Demonstrations Along the Route. — Complete Success of the Trip. — First 
Passage-Money. — That Bottle of Wine. — Opposition Lines, and Racing. — First Steam-boat at the 
West — Amazing Subsequent Increase. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes. 



" It ig to tho uDd&uQted pcrsevenncfl and exertions of the Amerlcen Fvltoh that la due the everlastiDg honor of hevinff produced thU 
revolution, both in ntvol architecture and nCTigmtiou." — Jury Rkpout or Till ExuiniTlox or all Nxtiovs, Lowdoiv, lasi. 



_^1 I'EAM, in its application to the purposes of navigation, 
was first successfully employed by Robert Fulton, a na- 
tive of Little Britain, Pennsylvania. His peculiar genius 
manifested itself at an early age, in an irrepressible taste 
lor producing drawings and various mechanisms. At the 
:ige of twenty-one he was intimate with Franklin. He 
liad previously painted portraits and landscapes in Phila- 
(Iclphia, and derived considerable profit from the occupa- 
tion. He .^ubscqupiitly saik'd for England, with the view 
(if seeking Mr. West's aid in tho prosecution of his art. 
i'liat great painter took him into his family, at once. In 
1793, Mr. Fulton was actively engaged in a project to im- 
prove inland navigation. Even at that time he had con- 
ceived the idea of propelling vessels by steam. In 180-1 he had acquired nnnli 
valuable information upon the subject, and written it down, as well as much concern- 
ing his own life, and sent many manuscripts from Paris to this country, but tin- 
vessel was wrecked and most of the papers destroyed. About this period, tho sul)- 
ject of canals seems to have been the principal object of his attention, although not 
exclusively. In 1806, Mr. Fulton left Europe for New York, and on his arrival 
in this country, he immediately commenced his arduous exertions in the cause of 
practical science. The fertility of his mind in this direction may be understood, 
when it is stated that, in 1794, he had been engaged by the Duke of Bridgewater in 




FXBST STK.\>I-ilOAr ON TUE 
HUDSON. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



213 



canal projects, liad adopted and patented 
the system of inclined planes as a substi- 
tute for locks, and had written a treatise 
on canals. He also invented a mill for 
sawing marble, patented several methods 
of spinning flax and making ropes, and 
constructed a torpedo to be used in war, 
for the destruction of an enemy's vessels. 

At what time Mr. Fulton's mind was 
first directed to steam navigation, is not 
definitely known ; but even in 1793, he 
had matured a plan in which he reposed 
great confidence. No one. previously to 
Mr. Fulton, liad constructed a steam-boat 




/^^^^^ i^^^a 



S^^tI^ 



in any other way, or with any other result, 
than as an unsuccessful experiment ; and 
although many have disputed his right to 
the honor of the discovery, none have done 
so with any semblance of justice. Miller's 
experiments, which simply proved the 
practicability of the principle of projjelling 
vessels by steam, were made in 1787, in 
Scotland; but Fulton's boat, which began 
to navigate the Hudson in 1807, was cer- 
tainly the first practical demonstration of 
this application of steam, being five years 
prior to the success of Henry Bell on the 
Clyde, and nearly ten years preceding the 
first attempts on the Thames river, under 



Brunei's direction. The incomjdeteness of 
Fitch's plan is matter of history, though 
his inventive ingenuity was very great. 

Among those of Fulton's own country- 
men who had previously made unsuccessful 
attempts to render the force of steam sub- 
servient to practical and useful purposes, 
was Chancellor Livingston, of New York. 
As early as 1798, he believed that he had 
accomplished his object, and represented 
to the legislature of the state of New York, 
that he possessed a mode of applying the 
steam engine so as to propel a boat on 
new and advantageous principles; but he 
was deterred from carrying it into effect, 
liy the uncertainty and hazard of a very 
expensive experiment, unless he could be 
assured of an exclusive advantage from it, 
should it be found successful. 

The legislature in March, 1798, passed 
an act vesting Mr. Livingston with the 
exclusive right and privilege of navigating 
all kinds of boats which might be propelled 
l\y the force of fire or steam, on all the 
waters within the territory or jurisdiction 
of the state of New York, for a term of 
twenty years from the passing of the act, 
— upon condition that he should within a 
twelvemonth build such a boat, the mean 
of whose progress should not be less than 
four miles an hour. 

The bill was introdiiced into the house 
of assembly by Dr. Mitchell, upon which 
occasion the wags and the lawyers united 
their powers in opposition to the bill in 
such a manner that the good doctor had 
to encounter .all their jokes, and parry all 
their blows. 

According to Mr. Livingston's own 
account of these most interesting circum- 
stances, it appears that, when residing as 
minister pleni]>otentiary of the United 
States in France, he there met with Mr. 
Fulton, and they formed that friendshiji 
and connection with each other, to which 
a similarity of pursuits naturally gives 
birth. He communicated to Mr. Fulton 
his views of the importance of steam-boats 
to their common country ; informed him ot 
what had been attempted in America, and 
of his resolution to resume the pursuit on 



214 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



his return ; and advised liim to turn liis 
attention to the subject. It was agreed 
between tlieni to embark in the enterprise, 
and immediately to make sucli experi- 
ments as would enable them to determine 
liow far, in spite of former failures, the 
object was attainable. The principal 
direction of these experiments was left to 
Mr. Fulton. 

On the arrival at New York of Mr. 
Fulton, which was not till 1800, they im- 
mediately engaged in building a boat of — 
as was then thought — very considerable 
dimensions, for navigating the Hudson. 
This boat, named the Clermont, was of 
one hundred and sixty tons burden, one 
hundred and thirty feet long, eighteen 
feet wide, and seven feet deep. The 
diameter of the paddle-wheels was fifteen 
feet, the boards four feet long and dipping 
two feet in the water. She was a queer- 
looking craft, and, while on the stocks, 
excited much attention and no small 
amount of ridicule. When she was 
launched, and the steam engine placed in 
her, that also was looked upon as being of 
a piece with the boat built to float it. A 
few had seen one at work raising the Man- 
hattan water into the reservoir back of 
the almshouse; but, to the people at large, 
the whole thing was a hidden mystery. 
Curiosity was greatly excited. Nor will 
the reader be at all surprised at the state- 
ment made by an eye-witness and narrator 
of these events, that, when it was an- 
nounced in the New York papers that the 
boat would start from Cortlandt street at 
six and a half o'clock on Friday morning, 
the fourth of August, and take passengers 
to Albany, there was a broad smile on 
every face, as the inquiry was made, if 
any one would be fool enough to go? 
One friend was heard to accost another in 
the street with — 

"John, will thee risk thy life in such a 
concern ? I tell thee she is the most fear- 
ful wild fowl living, and thy father ought 
to restrain thee ! " 

When Friday morning <ame, the 
wharves, piers, house-tops, and every 
' co'ujne lie vantage ' from which a sight 



could be obtained, was filled with sjjecta- 
tors. There were twelve berths, and 
every one was taken through to Albany. 
The fare was seven dollars. All the 
machinery was uncovered and exposed to 
view. The periphery of the balance- 
wheels, of cast iron, some four or more 
inches square, ran just clear of the water. • 
There were no outside guards, the balance- 
wheels being supported by their respective 
shafts, which projected over the sides of 
the boat. The forward part was covered 
by a deck, which afforded shelter to the 
hands. The after-jiart was fitted up, in a 
rough manner, for passengers. Tire en- 
trance into the cabin was from the stern, 
in front of the steersman, who worked a 
tiller, as in an ordinary slooji. Hlaek 
smoke issued from the chimney; steam 
issued from every ill-fitted valve and crev- 
ice of the engine. Fulton himself was 
there. His remarkably clear and sharp 
voice was heard above the hum of the mul- 
titude and the noise of the engine; his 
step was confident and decided ; he heeded 
not the fearfuluess, doubts, or sarcasm of 
those by whom he was surrounded. The 
whole scene combined had in it an individ- 
uality, as well as an interest, which comes 
but once and is remembered forever. 

Everything being ready, the engine was 
set in motion, and the boat moved steadily 
but slowly from the wharf : as she turned 
up the river, and was fairly under way, 
there arose such a huzza as ten thousand 
throats never gave before. The i)assen- 
gers returned the cheer, but Fulton stood 
upon the deck, his eyes flashing with an un- 
usual brilliancy as he surveyed the crowd. 
He felt that the magic wand of Success 
was waving over him, and he was silent. 

As the boat sailed or steamed by West 
Point, the whole garrison was out, and 
cheered most lustily. At Newburg, it 
seemed as if all Orange county was col- 
lected there; the whole side-hill city 
seemed animated with lifi'. E\ery sail- 
boat and water-craft was out. The ferry- 
boat from Fishkill was filled with ladies, 
1 but Fulton was engaged in seeing a pas- 
I scnger landed, and did not observe tbe 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



215 



boat until she bore up nearly alongside ; 
the flapping of a sail arrested his atten- 
tion, and, as he turned, the waving of so 
many handkerchiefs, and the smiles of so 



In a letter to his friend and patron, Mr. 
Barlow, Eulton saj's of this Clermont trial 
trip : " My steam-boat voyage to Albany 
and back has turned out rather more 




many bright and happy faces, struck him 
with surprise, and, raising his hat, he ex- 
claimed, " That is the finest sight we have 
seen yet." 



favorable than I had calculated. The dis- 
tance to Albany is one hundred and fifty 
miles. I ran up in tliirty-two liours and 
down iu thirty. The latter is just five 



i 



216 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



miles an hour. I had a light breeze 
against me the whole way, going and com- 
ing, so that no use was made of my sails, 
and this voyage has been performed whol- 
ly by the power of the steam engine. I 
overtook many sloops and schooners beat- 
ing to the windward, and passed them as 
if thej' had been at anchor." Such was 
the modest description of this greatest of 
modern inventions. 

Of peculiar interest and entertainment 
is the following narrative connected with 
this historic voyage, from the graphic pen 
of one who was a personal actor in the 
scene described : — 

I chanced to be at Albany on business 
when Fulton arrived there in his unheard- 
of craft, which everybody felt so much 
anxiety to see. Being ready to leave, and 
hearing that this craft was going to 
return to New York, I repaired on board 
and inquired for Mr. Fulton. I was 
referred to the cabin, and there found a 
plain, gentlemanly man, wholly alone, and 
engaged in writing. 

" Mr. Fulton, I presume." 

"Yes, sir." 

" Do you return to New York, with this 
boat ? " 

" We shall try to get back, sir." 

" Can I have a passage down ? " 

" You can take your chance with us, 
sir." 

I inquired the amount to be paid, and, 
after a moment's hosit.ation, a sum, I 
think six dollars, was named. The amount, 
in coin, I laid in his open hand, and, with 
his eye fixed upon it, he remained so long 
motionless, that I supposed it might be a 
miscount, and said to him, " Is that right, 
sir ? " This question roused him as from 
a kind of reverie, and, as he looked up, the 
big tear was brimming in his eye, and his 
voice faltered as he said — 

" Excuse me, sir ; but memory was 
busy as I contemplated this, the first 
pecuniary reward I have ever received for 
all my exertions in adapting steam to 
navigation. I should gl.adly commemorate 
the occasion over a bottle of wine with 
you, but really I am too poor even for 



that, just now; j-et I trust we may meet 
again, when this will not be the case." 

Some four years after this (continues 
the writer of this agreeable reminiscence), 
when the Clermont had been greatly im- 
proved and her name changed to the North 
River, and when two other boats, viz., the 
Car of Neptune and the Paragon had been 
built, making Mr. Fulton's fleet consist of 
three boats regularly plying between New 
York and Albanj, I took passage upon one 
of these for the latter citj'. The cabin in 
that day was below ; and. as I walked its 
length to and fro, I saw I was very closely 
observed by one I supposed a stranger. 
Soon, however, I recalled the features of 
Mr. Fulton ; but, without disclosing this, 
I continued my walk. At length, in i)ass- 
ing his seat, our eyes met, when he sprang 
to his feet, and, eagerly seizing my hand, 
exclaimed — 

" I knew it must be you, for your feat- 
ures have never escaped me ; and, altliough 
I am still far from rich, yet I may venture 
that bottle now ! " 

It was ordered ; and during its discus- 
sion Mr. Fulton ran rapidly, but vividly, 
over his experiences of the world's cold- 
ness and sneers, and of the hopes, fears, 
disappointments, and difficulties, that were 
scattered through his whole career of dis- 
covery, up to the ver3' point of his final, 
crowning triumph, at which he so fully felt 
he had arrived at last. And in reviewing 
all these matters, he said — 

" I have again and ag.iin recalled the 
occasion, and the incident, of our first 
interview at Albany ; and never have I 
done so without renewing in my mind the 
vivid emotion it originally caused. That 
seemed, and does still seem, to me, the 
turning point in my destiny — the dividing 
line between light and darkness, in my 
career upon earth ; for it was the first 
actual recognition of mj- usefulness to my 
fellow-men." 

Even at this early period in the employ- 
ment of so dangerous and slightly under- 
stood a motive power as steam, the rivalry 
and diversion of racing was indulged in. 
It was in the month of September, 1809, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE E^^:]SrTS. 



217 



that the exciting and criminal scene of a 
steam-boat race was first enacted. A com- 
pan_y from Albany bad been formed for 
the purpose of competing with Fulton. 
The first vessel of this opposition line was 
advertised to leave Albany at the same 
time as Fulton's. Parties ran high in the 
hotels of Albany. The partisans of Fulton 
were enrolled under Professor Kenip, of 
Columbia College ; those of the opposition 
under Jacob Stout. The victory was long 
in suspense ; and it was not until after the 
thirtieth hour of a hard struggle that the 
result was proclaimed by Dr. Kemp, on 
the taffrail of Fulton's vessel, and holding 
out, in derision, a coil of rope to Captain 
Stout, for the purpose, as he remarked in 
so doing, of " towing him into port." 
When the age, high standing, and sedate 
character of these two gentlemen are con- 
sidered, it is not surprising that, in course 
of time, women at the West learned to 
devote their bacon to feeding the furnace 
fires of rival steam-boats. 

The complete success attending steam 
navigation on the Hudson and the neigh- 
boring waters, previous to the year 1809, 
turned the attention of the principal pro- 
jectors to the idea of its application on the 
western waters ; and in the month of 
April of that year, Mr. Roosevelt, of New 
York, pursuant to an agreement with 
Chancellor Livingston and Mr. Fulton, 
visited those rivers, with the purpose of 
forming an opinion whether they admitted 
of steam navigation or not. Mr. Roosevelt 
surveyed the rivers from Pittsburg to 
New Orleans, and, as his report was favor- 
able, it was decided to build a boat at the 
former place. This was done under his 
direction, and in the j-ear 1811 the first 
boat was launched on the waters of the 
Ohio. It was called the New Orleans. 

Late at night, on the fourth day after 
quitting Pittsburg, they arrived in safety 
at Louisville, having been seventy hours 
descending a distance of somewhat more 
than seven hundred miles. The novel 
appearance of the vessel, and the fearful 
rapidity — as it was then regarded — with 
which it made its passage, excited a mix- 



ture of terror and surprise among many of 
the settlers on the banks, whom the rumor 
of such an invention had never reached. 

Mr. Livingston's former associate in his 
experiments with appl^'ing steam to this 
purpose was Mr. John Stevens, of New 
Jersey-, who persevered independently of 
Fulton and his patron, in various attemjits 
to construct steam-boats. In this enter- 
prise he was aided by his son, and his 
prospects of success had become so flatter- 
ing, that he refused to renew his partner- 
ship with Livingston, and resolved to trust 
to his own exertions. Fulton's boat, how- 
ever, was first ready, and thus secured the 
grant of the exclusive privilege of the state 
of New York. The Stevenses were but a 
few days later in moving a boat with the 
required velocity. Being shut out of the 
waters of the state of New York, by the 
priority of Livingston and Fulton, Stevens 
conceived the bold design of conveying his 
boat to the Delaware by sea ; and this 
boat, which was so near reaping the honor 
of first success, was the first to navigate 
the ocean by steam. One of the most 
efficient advocates of the new mode of nav- 
igation by steam was DeWitt Clinton. 

From the date of Fulton's triumph in 
1807, steam navigation became a fixed fact 
in the United States, and went on extend- 
ing with astonishing rapidity. Nor could 
a different result have been rationally 
expected in such a country as America. 

In person, Mr. Fulton was about six 
feet high, slender form, but finelj' propor- 
tioned. Nature had made him a gentle- 
man, and bestowed upon him ease and 
gracefulness. A modest confidence in his 
own worth and talents, gave him an unem- 
barrassed deportment in all his social 
intercourse. He expressed himself with 
energy, fluency, and correctness, and, as he 
owed more to his own experience and 
reflections than to books, his sentiments 
were often interesting from their original- 
ity. But what was most conspicuous in 
his character, was his calm constancy, his 
industry, and that indefatigable patience 
and perseverance, which always enabled 
him to overcome difficulties. 






XXII. 

EXTENSIVE AND CALAMITOUS EARTHQUAKE AT THE 

WEST.— 1811. 



Its Convulsive Force Felt all Over the Valley of the Mississippi and to the Atlantic Coast — The Earth 
Suddenly Bursts Open and a Vast Region of Country is Sunk and Lost. — Awful Chasms and 
Upheavals. — Uuin and Desolation Brought Upon the Inhabitants. — Humboldt's Interesting Opin- 
ion of the Western Earthquake. — Its Central Point of Violence. — Terrible Consternation Produced. 
— The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Agitation of the Waters — Houses Buried, Boats 
Wrecked. — Giant Forests Crushed. — Purple Tinge of the Atmosphere. — Thunder, Lightning, Flood, 
Etc. — A Mighty Struggle. — Hills and Islands Disap])ear. — Burial Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's 
Secrets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New Ones Formed — Present Aspect of the Country. — 
Account of the More Recent Earthquakes in California, their Characteristics and Destructiveness. 
— Most Serious in San Francisco.— Lives and Property Lost. — Women and Children Panic-Struck. 
— Direction of the Shocks — Indications of their Approach. — Effect in the Harbor and Bay. 



" Diseoiied naturv onentinicfl breaks forth 

In strange eruptions i and the tecmios earth 

J« with a kind of colic pinch'd and vcx'd 

Br the impriaoning of unruly wlnda 

Vi'ithin her womb ; which, for enlarKcment strivinj;, 

Shake tha old beldame Earth, and topple down 

Steeples and mo«i>-i{rown towera." 




.VFTKIt TME EAKTllyL.VKK. 



VRTHQUAKES in the United States 
liave been of comparatively rare occur- 
rence, so far as any extensive destruction 
of life and propertj' has been involved. 
Uy far the most imj)ortant of these, prior 
to the disastrous California earthcjnakes in 
1865 and 1868, was that which took place 
at Now Madrid, in Missouri, below St. 
Louis, on the Mississippi, in 1811, and 
which is always spoken of, in that section, 
as " the great earthquake." Over a region 
of country three hundred miles in length, 
from the mouth of the Ohio to that of the 
St. Francis, the ground rose and sank in 
great undulations, and lakes w^ere formed, 
and again drained. Humboldt remarks 
tliat it presents one of the few examples of 
:in incessant quaking of the ground for 
successive months far from any volcano. 

The central point of violence in this 
remarkable earthquake was thought to be 
near the Little Prairie, twenty-five or 
thirty miles below Xew Madrid; the vibra- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



219 



tions from which were felt all over the 
valley of the Ohio, as high up as Pitts- 
burg. The first shock was felt on the 
night of December sixteenth, 1811, and 
was repeated at intervals, with decreasing 
severity, into February following. New 
Madrid, having suffered more than any 
other town on the Mississippi from its 
effects, was considered as situated near 
the focus from whence the undulations 
proceeded. 

The water of the river, which the day 
before was tolerably clear, being rather 
low, changed to a reddish hue, and became 
thick with mud thrown up from its bottom, 
while the surface, lashed vehemently by 
the convulsion of the earth beneath, was 
covered with foam, which, gathering into 
masses the size of a barrel, floated along 
on the trembling surface. The earth on 
the shores opened in wide fissures, and, 
closing again, threw the water, sand and 
mud, in huge jets, higher than the tops of 
the trees. The atmosphere was filled with 
a thick vapor or gas, to which the light 
imparted a purple tinge, altogether differ- 
ent in appearance from the autumnal haze 
of an Indian summer, or that of smoke. 
From the temporary check to the current, 
by the heaving up of the bottom, the sink- 
ing of the banks and sand-bars into the bed 
of the stream, the river rose in a few min- 
utes five or six feet ; and, impatient of the 
restraint, again rushed forward with 
redoubled impetuosity, hurrying along the 
boats, now set loose by the jjanic-stricken 
boatmen, as in less danger on the water 
than at the shore, where the banks threat- 
ened every moment to destroy- them by the 
falling earth, or carry them down in the 
vortices of the sinking masses. Many 
boats were overwhelmed in this manner, 
and their crews perished with them. 
Numerous boats were wrecked on the 
snags and old trees thrown up from tln' 
bottom of the Mississippi, where they had 
quietly rested for ages, while others were 
sunk or stranded on the sand-bars and 
islands. At New ^Madrid, several boats 
were carried by the reflux of the current 
into a small stream that puts into the 



river just above the town, and left on the 
ground by the returning water a very con- 
siderable distance from the Mississippi. 

It is an interesting coincidence, that, at 
this precise period, the first steam-boat 
vo}-age ever made in western waters, added 
the novelty of its occurrence to the con- 
vulsions of nature in this region. The 
name of the steam-boat in question was the 
New Orleans, commanded by Mr. Roose- 
velt. On arriving about five miles above 
the Yellow Banks, near New Madrid, they 
moored opposite to a vein of coal on the 
Indiana side, the coal having been pur- 
chased some time previously for the steam- 
er's use. They found a large quantity 
already quarried to their hand and con- 
veyed to the shore bv depredators, who, 
however, had not means to carry it off; 
and with this they commenced loading. 
While thus engaged, the voj-agers were 
accosted in great alarm by the squatters in 
the neighborhood, who inquired if they had 
not heard strange noises on the river and 
in the woods in the course of the preceding 
day, and perceived the shores shake — 
insisting that they had repeatedly heard 
the earth tremble. Hitherto, however, 
nothing remarkable had been perceived, 
and the following day they continued 
their monotonous voyage in those vast sol- 
itudes. The weather was oppressively 
hot ; the air misty, still and dull ; and 
though the sun was visible, like an 
immense and glowing ball of copper, his 
raj-s hardly shed more than a mournful 
twilight on the surface of the water. 
Evening drew nigh, and with it some 
indications of what was passing around 
them became evident, for they ever and 
anon heard a rushing sound and violent 
splash, and finally saw large portions of 
the shore tearing away from tlie laud and 
lapsing into the watery abyss. An eye- 
witness says : " It was a startling scene 
— one could have heard a pin drop on 
deck. The crew spoke but little; they 
noticed, too, that the comet, for some time 
visible in the heavens, had suddenly dis- 
a])peared, and every one on board was 
thunderstruck." 



220 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




.•'rKM-. «'l' 1 HI. i.itl.AI i.AKt li(^l AKl: IN THE WEST. 



The second day after leaving tlie Yellow 
Bunks, the sun rose over the forests, the 
same dim ball of fire, and the air was thick, 
heavy, and oppressive, as before. The 
portentous signs of this terrible natural 
convulsion increased. Alarmed and con- 
fused, the pilot affirmed he was lost — as 
he found the channel ever^'where altered ; 
and where he had hitherto known deep 
water, there lay numberless trees with 
their roots upward. Tlie trees that still 
remained were seen waving and nodding 
on the, banks, without a wind. The 
adventurers had of course no choice but to 
continue their route as best they could, 
but towards evening they were at a loss 
for a place of shelter. They had usually 
brought to, under the shore, but at all 
points they saw the high banks disappear- 
ing, overwlielming many an unfortunate 
craft, from which the owners had landed, 
in the hope of effecting their escape. A 
large island in mid-channel, whidi had 
been selected by the pilot as the better 
alternative, was sought for in vain, having 
totally disappeared, and thousands of 
acres constituting the surrounding coun- 
try, were found to have been swallowed 
up, with their gigantic growth of forest 
and cane. 



Thus, in doubt <and terror, they pro- 
ceeded hour after hour, until dark, when 
thev found a sm.ill island, and rounded to, 
mooring at the foot of it. Here they lay, 
keeping watch on deck, during the long 
night, listening to the sound of the waters 
which roared and whirled wildly around 
them — ^hearing, also, from time to time, 
the rushing earth slide from the shore, 
and the commotion of the falling mass as 
it became engulfed in flic river. The 
Lady of the party was frequently awakened 
from her restless slumber, by the jar of 
the furniture and loose articles in the 
cabin, as in the course of the night the 
shock of the passing earthquake was com- 
municated to the bows of the vessel. The 
morning dawned and showed they were 
near the mouth of the Ohio. The shores 
and channel were now equally unrecogniz- 
able — everything seemed changed. About 
noon that day they reached New Madrid. 
Here the inhabitants were in the greatest 
consternation and distress. Part of the 
population had fled for their lives to the 
higher grounds ; others pmyed to be taken 
on boiird the steamer, as the earth was 
opening in fissures on every side, and their 
houses hourlj' falling around them. Pro- 
ceeding thence they found tlie Mississippi, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



221 



at all times a fearful stream, unusually 
swollen, turbid, and full of trees, and after 
many days of extreme danger, finally 
reached Natchez. 

After shaking the valley of the Mis- 
sissippi to its center, the earthquake 
vibrated along the courses of the rivers 
and valleys, and, passing the primitive 
mountain barriers, died away along the 
shores of the Atlantic ocean. In the 
region of its greatest force, and pending 
the tremendous elemental strife which 
finally ensued, the current of the Missis- 
sippi was driven back from its source with 
appalling velocity for several hours, in con- 
sequence of an elevation of its bed. But 
the noble river was not thus to be stayed 
in its course. Its accumulated waters 
came booming on, and, overtopping the 
barrier thus suddenly raised, carried every 
thing before them with resistless power. 
Boats, theu floating on its surface, shot 
down the declivity like an arrow from a 
bow, amid roaring billows and the wildest 
disorder. A few days' action of its power- 
ful current sufliced to wear away every 
vestige of the barrier thus strangely inter- 
posed, and its waters moved on in their 
wonted channel to the ocean, seemingly 
rejoicing in their triumph over the oppos- 
ing elements and forces. 

The day that succeeded this night of 
dread brought no solace in its dawn. 
Shock followed shock ; a dense black cloud 
of vapor overshadowed the land, through 
which no struggling sunbeam found its 
way to cheer the desponding heart of man. 
The appearances that presented themselves 
after the subsidence of the principal com- 
motion' were indeed staggering to the 
beholder. Hills had disappeared, and 
lakes were found in their stead ; numerous 
lakes became elevated ground, over the 
surface of which vast heaps of sand were 
scattered in every direction ; while in 
man}' places the earth for miles was sunk 
below the general level of the surrounding 
country, without being covered with water, 
— leaving an impression in miniature of a 
catastrophe much more important in its 
effects, which had, perhaps, preceded it 



ages before. One of the lakes thus formed 
is sixty or seventy miles in length, and 
from three to twenty miles in breadth ; it 
is also in some places very shallow, and in 
others from fifty to one hundred feet deep, 
which latter is much more than the depth 
of the Mississippi river in that quarter. 
In sailing over its surface, one is struck 
with astonishment at beholding the gigan- 
tic trees of the forest standing partially 
exposed amid the waste of waters, branch- 
less and leafless, like gaunt, mysterious 
monsters. But this wonder is still further 
increased on casting the eye on the dark- 
blue profound, to witness cane-brakes cov- 
ering its bottom, over which a mammoth 
species of tortoise is occasionally seen drag- 
ging its slow length along, while countless 
millions of fish are sporting through the 
aquatic thickets, — the whole constituting 
one of the most remarkable features in 
American scenery and topography. 

The lost hills or islands before men- 
tioned are of various extent ; some twenty 
or thirty miles in circumference, others 
not so large, and some are even diminutive 
in size, but of great altitude ; occasionally 
furnished with fountains of living water, 
and all well timbered. The low grounds 
are in the form of basins, connected by 
openings or hollows ; these, not being as 
deep as the bottom of their reservoirs, it 
happens that, when an inundation takes 
place, either from the Mississippi river or 
streams issuing from the surrounding 
highlands, they are filled to overflowing — 
and, when the waters recede below a level 
with these points of communication, they 
become stagnant pools, passing off by the 
process of infiltration, which is very slow, 
in a thick, black, tenacious loam, or by 
evaporation equall}' gradual, in a country 
covered bj' forests and impenetrable 
jungle. At New Madrid and its vicinity, 
the earth broke into innumerable fissures ; 
the church-yard, with its dead, was torn 
from the bank and embosomed in the 
turbid stream ; and in manj' places, the 
gaping earth unfolded its secrets, — the 
bones of the gigantic mastodon and ich- 
thyosaurus, hidden within its bosom for 



222 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ages, being brought to the surface. Even 
at the present day, frequent slight shocks 
of earthquake are there felt, and it is 
asserted that, in the vast swamp at the 
back of the town, strange sounds may at 
times be heard, as of some mighty cauldron 
seething and bubbling in the bowels of the 
earth. 

Flint, the geographer, who visited the 
country seven years after the event, says 
that, at the time of his visit, a district 
west of New Madrid still remained cov- 
ered with water, and that the neighboring 
forest presented a scene of great confusion. 
He also saw hundreds of deep chasms re- 
maining in the alluvial soil, which were 
produced, according to the inhabitants, by 
the bursting of the earth, which rose in 
great undulations, and discliarged prodig- 
ious volumes of water, sand, and coaly 
matter, thrown up to a great height. As 
the shocks lasted throughout a period of 
three months, the country people remarked 
that, in particular districts, there were 
certain prevailing directions in which the 
fissures opened, and they accordingly 
felled the tallest trees, making them fall 
at right angles to the direction of the 
chasms. Hy stationing themselves on 
these, the inhabitants often escaped being 
swallowed up when the earth opened 
beneath them. 

During the visit of Sir Charles Lyell to 
this region, in 1846, Mr. Bringier, the 
well-known engineer, related to him that 
he was on horseback near New Madrid, in 
1811, when some of the severest shocks 
were experienced, and that, as the waves 
advanced, he saw the trees bend down, and 
often, the instant afterward, when in the 
act of recovering their position, meet the 
boughs of other trees similarly' inclined, so 
as to become interlockeil, being prevented 
from righting themselves again. The 
transit of the wave through the woods was 
marked by the crashing noise of countless 
branches, first heard on one side and then 
on the other. At the same time, powerful 
jets of water, mixed with sand, loam and 
bituminous shale, were cast up with such 
impetuosity, that both horse and rider 



might have perished, had the swelling and 
upheaving ground happened to burst im- 
mediately beneath them. Some of the 
shocks were perpendicular, while others, 
much more desolating, were horizontal, or 
moved along like great waves ; and where 
the principal fountains of mud and water 
were thrown up, circular cavities, called 
sink-holes, were formed. 

Hearing that some of these cavities still 
existed near the town, Professor Lyell 
went to see one of them, three-quarters of 
a mile to the westward. There he found 
a nearly circular hollow, ten yards wide, 
and five feet deep, with a smaller one near 
it, and, scattered about the surrounding 
level ground, were fragments of black 
bituminous shale, with much white sand. 
Within a distance of a few hundred yards, 
were five more of these " sand-bursts," or 
"sand-blows," as they are sometimes 
termed, and, about a n\ile farther west, 
there is still pointed out " the sink-hole 
where the negro was drowned." It is a 
striking object, interrupting the regularity 
of a flat plain, the sides very steep, and 
twenty-eight feet deep from the top to the 
water's edge. 

In the interesting account of this region 
and of the event in question, furnished by 
Professor Lyell, in his book of travels, he 
relates the reminiscences of a citizen of 
New Madrid, who witnessed the earth- 
quake when a child. He described the 
camping out of the people in the night 
when the first shocks occurred, and how 
some were wounded by the falling of chim- 
ne3'8, and the bodies of others drawn out 
of the ruins; and confirmed the jniblished 
statements of the inhabitants having 
availed themselves of fallen trees to avoid 
being engulfed in open fissures, — a singu- 
lar mode of escape, which, curiously 
enough, had been adopted spontaneously 
in different and widely-ili.-itant jilaces, at 
the same time, even little children throw- 
ing themselves thus on the felled trunks. 
Lyell was then invited to go and see sev- 
eral fissures still open, which had been 
caused by the nndnlatorj- movement of the 
ground, some of them jagged, others even 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



223 



and straight. Two of tliem were traced 
continuously for more than half a mile, 
and a few were found to be parallel ; but, 
on the whole, they varied greatly in direc- 
tion, some being ten and others forty-five 
degrees west of north. They might easily 
have been mistaken for artificial trenches, 
though formerly as deep as wells ; the 
action of rains, frost, and occasional inun- 
dations, and, above all, the leaves of the 
forest blown into them in countless num- 
bers, have done much to fill them up. 

In that part of the forest which borders 
wiiat is called the " sunk country," all the 
trees of a date prior to 1811, although 
standing erect and entire, are dead. Tliej' 
are most noticeable objects, are chiefly 
oaks and walnuts, with trunks several feet 
in diameter, and many of them more than 
two hundred years old. They are sup- 
posed to have been killed by the loosening 
of the roots during the repeated undula- 
tions which passed through the soil for 
three months in succession. The higher 
level plain, where these dead monurchs of 
the forest stand, terminates abruptly 



newer than 1812. The " sunk country " 
extends along the course of the White 
Water and its tributaries for a distance of 
between seventy and eighty miles north 
and south, and thirty miles east and west. 
It is not, however, confined to the region 
west of the Mississippi ; for several exten- 
sive forest tracts in Tennessee were sub- 
merged during the shocks of 1811-12, 
and have ever since formed lakes and 
swamps. 

The earthquakes in California, especially 
those which occurred in 1865 and 1868, 
and both in the month of October, were 
the most disastrous in respect to the value 
of property destroyed, that of October 21, 
1868, being particularljr so. At San 
Francisco, the motion was east and west, 
and several buildings on Pine, Battery, 
and Sansome streets were thrown down, 
and a considerable number badly damaged. 
The ground settled, which threw the build- 
ings out of line. The principal damage 
was confined to the lower portion of the 
city, below Montgomery street, and among 
old buildings on the made ground. The 




EARTHQUAKE SCENE IN SAN FRANCISCO. 



toward the bayou St. John, and the sudden 
descent of eight or ten feet throughout an 
area four or five miles long, and fifty or 
sixty broad, was one of the strange results 
of the earthquake. At the lower level are 
seen cypresses and cotton-wood, and other 
trees which delight in wet ground, all 



custom-house, a brick building erected on 
pile ground, which was badly shattered in 
the earthquake of 1865, had now to be 
abandoned as unsafe. Business in the 
lower part of the city was suspended, the 
streets were thronged with people, and 
great excitement prevailed. The parapets, 



224 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



walls and chimneys of a number of houses 
fell, causing loss of life and many accidents. 
At one i)lace, the ground opened several 
inches wide and about forty or fifty feet 
long ; and in other places, the ground 
opened, and water forced itself above the 
surface. The water in the bay was per- 
fectly smooth at the time of the occurrence, 
and no perceptible disturbance took place 
there ; the shock was felt aboard the ship- 
ping in the harbor, as if the vessels had 
struck upon the rocks. The morning was 
moderately warm, and a dense fog covered 
the city. Not the slightest breeze was 
perceptible. The first indication of the 
approach of the earthquake was a slight 
rumbling sound, as of something rolling 
along the sidewalk, coming apparently 
from the direction of the ocean. The 
shock commenced in the form of slow, hor- 
izontal movements, while the movements 
of the great earthquake of 1865 were per- 
pendicular. The effect on buildings, too, 
of the earthquake of 1868, was widely dif- 
ferent from that of 1865. In the latter, 
glass was broken and shivered into atoms 
in all the lower parts of the city, b\- the 
perpendicular oscillations, while compara- 
tively few walls were shaken down or badl}- 
shattered. The earthquake of 1868 broke 
verj- little glass, but the damage b^- the 
falling of cornices, awnings, and walls, 
was immense. Mantel ornaments and 
shelved crockery we.re everywhere thrown 



down and broken ; top-heavy articles of 
furniture tumbled over ; tanks and dishes 
containing water or other liquids slopped 
their contents; clocks stopped running; 
door -bells rang ; tall structures, like 
steeples and towers, were seen to sway, 
and the motion of the earth under the 
feet was unpleasantly plain to walkers; 
horses started and snorted, exhibiting 
every sign of fear, and in some cases dash- 
ing off furiously with their riders; dogs 
crouched, trembling and whining ; and 
fowls flew to the trees, uttering notes of 
alarm. The panic among women and 
children was, for a time, excessive, and 
their cries and tears were very moving. 

At Oakland, the shock was very severe, 
throwing down chimnej'S, and greatly 
damaging buildings ; in several localities, 
the ground opened, and a strong sulphu- 
rous smell w;is noticed after the shock. 
The court-house at San Leandro was 
demolished and one life lost. At San 
Jose, several buildings were injured. The 
large brick court-house at Redwood City 
was completely wrecked. The shock was 
light at Marysville and Sonora, and severe 
at Grass Valley. It was also felt, with a 
good deal of severity, in Stockton, Sonoma, 
San Lorenzo, Alvarado, San Mateo, Peta- 
luma, Vallejo, and Sacramento ; in the 
latter place, flag-staffs and trees vibrated 
ten feet, and the water in the river rose 
and fell a foot and a half. 



XXIIL 

CAPTURE OF THE BRITISH FRIGATE GUERRIERE BY 

THE U. S. FRIGATE CONSTITUTION.— 1812. 



Captain Dacres's Insolent Challenge to the American Navy,— Captain Hull's Eager Acceptance.— His 
Unrivaled Tactics and Maneuvers.— A Short, Terrific, Decisive Contest.— Yankee Valor on the 
Ocean a Fixed Fact, Sternly Respected —The Constitution Becomes the Favorite SIn'p of the 
Nation, and is Popularly Called " Old Ironsides."— Cruise of the Constitution.— Hull, the " Sea 
King," in Command —A Sail ! The Enemy's Squadron !— Chased Three Days by Them.— Rowing 
and Warping in a Calm —Most Wonderful Escape on Uecord— Another Frigate in Sight, the Guer- 

riere. — Her Signals of Defiance — Yankee Eagerness for Ac- 
tion. — The Two Frigates Afoul.— Yard-arm to Yard-arm 
Encounter. — Fire of the Constitution Reserved.— Final and 
Deadly Broadsides. — Fearless Conduct of her Crew.— British 

Colors Hauleil Down, — Sinking of the Shattered Wreck. 

Arninment and Power of the Ships.— An almost Equal 
Match. — Anecdotes of the Two Commanders. — Honors to the 

Brave Victors. — Future Annals of the Constitution. Her 

Varied and Noble Career. 




** Never before, in the history of the world, did an English frigate strike to an American 
under equal circumstances."— Lo.n don Times. 



KOUDEST among the triumph.s of the American flag will for- 
ever be associated the career of that noble old frigate, the Constitution, 
. ^ — re-christened, by popular acclaim, " Old Ironsides," for her grand 
and victorious resistance to British domination on the ocean, in succes- 
sive and hotl3--contested battles. The greatest of these triumphs came, too, at a 
time when the public heart heaved with despondency; and the sensibilities of a 
whole nation, deeply wounded by the ill-success of their arms on the frontier, were 
suddenly thrilled with joy at the announcement of an action brilliant beyond all 
precedent in its results, in the annals of naval warfare. The American heart beat 
high and warm, as the news of this proud achievement winged itself over the sea and 
over the land, and from the western to the eastern hemisphere. It may here be 
stated, as an interesting naval item, that the first commander of this pet frigate was 
Commodore Samuel Nicholson, brother of Commodore James Nicholson, of revolu- 
tionary note. 

Previous to the final declaration of war against Great Britain, in June, 1812, 
preparation had been made by the United States government to send to sea, imme- 
diately on that event, all the frigates and armed vessels that could be put in readi- 
ness, to protect American commerce, and meet the enemy on the ocean. When, 
15 



226 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(>-1876. 



however, these little squadrons left their 
ports to contend with tlie haughtj' mistress 
of the spiis, every American breast was 
filleil with anxiety'. Indeed, the British 
naval commanders had boasted that they 
would drive the little strijHMl bunting of the 
upstart states, in affright and dismaj-, 
from every part of tlie broad ocean. How 
the Constitution saved herself, on first 
sighting the British lion, is a narrative 
uniting the romantic and miraculous. 

It was on the twenty-first of June, that 
a squadron, consisting of the President, 
the United States, the Congress, the 
Hornet, and Argus, under the com- 
mand of Commodore Rodgers, sailed from 
New York on a cruise in quest of British 
merchantmen, then on tlicir way from 
Jamaica to England. Subsequently, tlic 
frigate Constitution, Cai)tain Isaac Hull, 
received orders to join the squadron of 
Rodgers, and, for that purpose, sailed from 
the Chesapeake on the twclftli of July. 
On the seventeenth, being off Egg Harbor, 
four ships, apparently men-of-war, were 
discovered from the mast-head to the 
northward, approaching rapidly with a fine 
breeze, while it was nearly calm about the 
Constitution. In the belief that it was the 
American squadron, waiting her arrival, 
ever}' effort was made to come up with 
them. At four in the afternoon, another 
ship was seen to the north-east, standing 
for the Constitution, with all sails set. At 
ten in the evening, being then within six 
or eight miles of tlie strange sail, the pri- 
vate signal was made by the Constitution ; 
which not being answered, it was con- 
cluded that they were the enemy's vessels. 

And now commenced what may justly 
be termed the most remarkable series of 
naval tactics and maneuvers ever known, 
— the most wonderful chase recorded in 
nautical Jiistory, — resulting in the success- 
ful, and almost miraculous, escape of the 
American frigate from a whole squadron 
of British vessels, commanded by Captain 
Broke, in close pursuit for nearly three 
days and nights ! 

The position of the Constitution seemed 
hopeless indeed, when she found that one 



of the enemy's frigates was within about 
five or six miles, and a line-of-battle ship, 
a frigate, a brig, and schooner, some ten or 
twelve miles directly astern, all in chase 
of her, with a fine breeze, and coming xip 
fast, — while, unfortunately, the wind had 
entirely left the Constitution, so that the 
ship would not steer, but fell round off 
with lier head towards the two ships under 
her lee. The boats were instantly hoisted 
out, and sent ahead, to tow the ship's head 
round, and to endeavor to get her farther 
from the enemy, being now within five 
miles of three heavy frigates. Tlie boats 
of the enemy were got out and sent ahead 
to tow, by which, with the light air that 
remained with them, the}- came u]> very 
fast. Finding the enemy gaining im him, 
and but little chance of escaping, Hull 
ordered two guns to be ran out at the cabin 
windows for stern guns on the gun-deck, 
and hoisted one of the twenty-four pound- 
ers off the gun-<leck, and ran tliat, witli 
the forecastle gun, an eighteen-pounder, 
out at tlie ports on the quarter-<leck, and 
cleared the ship for action, being deter- 
mined they should not capture her, with- 
out encountering a resistance worthy of 
Americans. 

At about seven o'clock, on the morning 
of the eighteenth, the nearest ship ap- 
proached within gunshot and directly 
astern, seeing which, Hull ordered one of 
the stern guns to be fired, to see if lier 
masts could be reached and disabled, but 
the shot fell a little short. At eight, four 
of the enemy's slii])s were nearl}- within 
gunshot, some of them having six or eight 
boats ahe.ad towing, with all tlieir oars and 
swee]>s out, to row them up to the Consti- 
tution, which they were fast doing. It 
thus appeared that the noble frigate must 
be taken — that escape was impossible, — 
four heavy ships being already so near, a:ul 
coming up fast, with not the least liope of 
a breeze to give the Constitution a chance 
of getting off by outsailing thoni. 

In this situation, and tindiiig himself in 
onlj' twenty-four fathoms of water, Hull, 
adopting the advice of Lieutenant Morris, 
determined to try and warp the sliip ahead. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



227 



by carrying out anchors and warping her 
up to them. Three or four hundred fath- 
oms of rope were instantly got up, and two 
anchors made ready and sent ahead, by 
which means the ship began to distance 
the enemy's squadron ; but the latter soon 
saw this movement, and adopted the same 
plan, under very advantageous circum- 
stances, as all the boats from the British 
ships furthermost off, were sent to tow and 
warp up those nearest to the Constitution, 
by whicli means they again came up, 
almost within gun-shot reach. 

Proui nine to twelve, Hull employed all 
hands in warping the ship ahead, and in 
starting some of the water in the main 
hold to lighten lier, which, with the help 
of a slight breeze, enabled the Constitution 
to rather gain upon the enemy. About 
two, in the afternoon, all the boats from 
the line-of-battle ship and from some of 
the frigates were sent to the foremost frig- 
ate, to endeavor to tow her along more 
rapidly, but, a light air springing up, the 
Constitution held way with her pursuer, 
notwithstanding the latter had eight or ten 
boats ahead, and all her sails furled to tow 
her to windward. The wind continued 
light until eleven at night, and Hull's 
boats were kept ahead, towing and warp- 
ing to keep out of the reach of the enemy, 
three of the frigates being now very near; 
at eleven, however, a fresh breeze blew 
from the southward, when the boats came 
alongside and were hoisted up, the ship 
having too much way to keep them ahead. 

On the nineteenth, the enemy stood six 
sail in siglit, still in chase, with all can- 
vas spread, and very near. The wind, 
however, continued to increase, gradually, 
during the whole day, and Hull gained six 
or eight miles upon Broke, notwithstand- 
ing the latter pressed on with every inch 
of sail he could fling to the breeze. The 
hopes of the Americans were now un- 
bounded in their buoyancj-, and these 
hopes were succeeded by unspeakable 
exultation, when it was discovered, at daj-- 
light on tlie morning of the twentieth, 
that only three of the British vessels could 
be seen from the mast-head, the nearest of 



which was about twelve miles off, directly 
astern. All hands were now set at work 
wetting the Constitution's sails, from the 
royals down, by means of the engine and 
fire-buckets, and it was soon found that 
the enemy was left far in the rear. At a 
quarter-past eight, the British, finding that 
they were fast dropping astern, gave over 
chase, and hauled their wind to the north- 
ward. The Constitution, being seiMrated 
from the rest of the American squadron, 
made immediately for Boston, where she 
arrived in safety, and remained a few days. 

During the whole of this most remark- 
able, as well as exciting and wearisome 
chase, the gallant crew of the Constitution 
remained steadfastly and cheerfully at 
their stations, without murmur or confu- 
sion, and not only they and their officers, 
but the noble ship herself, gained a high 
reputation for masterly movement and 
behavior. Even the officers of the British 
squadron expressed their admiration of the 
consummate nautical knowledge and pro- 
fessional adroitness displayed by Cajitain 
Hull, in maneuvering his shij) and effecting 
his escape. 

But it was soon to be proved that Hull 
was no less a sea-warrior than a brilliant 
strategical navigator. On the second day 




CAPTAIN HULL. 



of August, Hull again ])ut to sea, pursuing 
an easterly course. He passed near the 
coast as far down as the baj- of Fundy, 
then ran off Halifax and Cape Sable ; but. 
not seeing any vessels for some days. Hull 
steered toward Newfoundland, passed the 



228 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



isle of Sables, and took a station off the 
gulf of St. Lawrence, to intercept tlie 
Canada trade. AVIiile crui.sing here, he 
('a])tured two merchant-vessels. On the 
tifteenth, he chased a convo^v of five sail, 
captured one of them, and 2)revented the 
prizi'-.ship of an American ])rivateer from 
being re-taken. Having received informa- 
tion that the British squadron was off the 
Grand Banks, an<l not far distant, he 
changed his cruising-ground, and pro- 
ceeded southward. 

On the nineteenth of August, 1812, at 
two o'clock in the afternoon, the Constitu- 
tion being in latitude fortv-one degrees 
and forty-two minutes north, and fifty-five 
<legrees and thirty-three minutes west 
longitude, off the coast of Massachusetts, 
a ship was discovered from the mast-head 
of the Constitution. Captain JluU in- 
.stantly made all sail in chase, and soon 
gained on her. At three o'clock, it could 
plainly be perceived that she was a man- 
of-war, on the starboard tack, under easy 
sail, close-hauled to the wind ; and by half- 
past three the stranger was ascertained to 
be a British frigate, — the Guerriere, Cap- 
tain James A. Dacres. This vessel had 
hoisted at her mast-head, a flag with her 
assumed name, the Warrior, in large char- 
acters, and on anotlier were inscribed the 
words, ' Xot the Little J3i;lt,'— the latter 
being a British slooji-of-war that had been 
l)adly handled in an engagement with the 
Unite<l States ship I'resident. The Guer- 
riere had looked into several ports inquest 
of American frigates, and given a chal- 
lenge to all vessels of her class. On the 
heaving in sight, therefore, of the Consti- 
tution, the British commander assembled 
his crew, pointed to them the object of 
tlu'ir wishes, assured them of an easj' vic- 
tory, and was answered by three hearty 
cheers. So, too, the aiinouncenient by 
Captain Hull, that the ship in sight was a 
British man-of-war, and probably of about 
the same force as the Constitution, was 
received with lively exultation by the 
brave American crew. 

Eiiger for battle and hopeful of victor}', 
Hull ordered the light sails to be taken in, 



the courses to be hauled up, and the ship 
to be cleared for action. The enemy now 
backed her main-to]>sail, and waited for 
the Constitution to come down; and as 
soon as the latter was ready for action, she 
bore down, intending to bring to im- 
mediate engagement the British frigate 
which had been from the very first, the 
object of such eager attention by the 
.\mericans, on account of her fine ap- 
pearance and peculiar movements, and 
leading to the supposition that she was 
a craft of more than ordinary import- 
ance in the estimation of the enemy, 
— a supposition that did not fail to be 
realized. 

The very fact that she bore on one 
of her flags the words just quoted, in- 
dicated that the feeling engendered by 
that event was a terribly sore one to 
the British, and that, if it were a pos- 
sible thing, the wound was to be liealed, 
at the first opportunity, by some sig- 
nal act of retribution. 

On the Constitution coming within gun- 
shot, the Guerriere fired a broadside, then 
filled away, wore, and gave a broadsiile on 
the other tack ; this firing, however, i)ro- 
duced no effect, as the shot fell short. The 
British frigate maneuvered, and wore sev- 
eral times, for about three-(]uarters of an 
hour, in order to obtain a raking position, 
but, not succeeding in this, she bore up 
under her tojvsails and jib, with the wind 
on the quarter. It is related that, during 
this time, the Constitution not having 
fired a single broadside, the impatience of 
her officers and men to engage was so 
excessive, that nothing but the most rigid 
discipline could restrain them, ]Iull, 
however, was jireparing, with the utmost 
calmness and deliberation, to decide the 
contest according to a method of his own. 

Making sail so as to bring the Constitu- 
tion directly up with her antagonist, and, 
at five minutes before six in the afternoon, 
being alongside within half pistol shot, 
Hull ordered a brisk firing to be com- 
menced from all the Constitution's guns, 
which were double-shotted with round and 
grape shot ; and so well-directed and so 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



229 



warmly kept up was tlie American fire, 
tliat, in fifteen minutes, the mizzen-mast 
of the Guerriere went by the board, and 
her main-yard in her slings. Her hull 
was much injured, and her rigging and 
sails completely torn into shreds. The 
fire was kept uj), in the same spirited 
manner, for fifteen minutes longer, bj' the 
Constitution. She had now taken a posi- 
tion for raking, on the bows of the Guer- 
riere, when the latter could only bring her 
bow guns to bear on the Constitution ; the 
grape-shot and small-arms of the latter 
ship completely swept the decks of the 
British frigate, and she was an utter 
wreck. 

Thirty minutes after the commencement 
of the contest, by the Constitution, the 
main-mast and fore-mast of the Guerriere 
went by the board, taking with them every 
spar except the bowsprit. Seeing her con- 
dition, Captain Hull ordered the firing to 
cease ; and Captain Dacres then struck his 
colors, which had been fastened to the 
stump of the mizzen-mast. 

Setting her fore and main sails, the Con- 
stitution now hauled to the eastward, to 
repair damages. All her braces, a great part 
of her standing and running rigging, and 
some of her spars, were shot away. At 
seven in the evening, she stood under the 
lee of the prize, and sent a boat on board, 
which returned in a short time with Captain 
Dacres, commander of the ill-fated frigate. 
In the action, the Constitution lost seven 
killed, and seven wounded ; the Guerriere, 
fifteen killed, and sixty-two wounded, — 
the latter including several officers, and 
there were twenty-four missing. Among 
the killed, on board of the Constitution, 
was Lieutenant Bush ; and among the 
wounded. First Lieutenant Morris and 
Master Alwyn. The circumstances were 
as follows : As soon as the two vessels 
fell afoul of each other, the cabin of 
the Constitution was observed to take 
fire, from the close explosion of the 
forward guns of the enemy, who obtained 
a small, though but momentary, advantage 
from his position ; the ready attention, 
however, of Lieutenant Hoffman, who 



commanded in the cabin, soon repaired 
this accident, and a gun of the enemy's, 
that threatened further injury, was effect- 
ually disabled. But, in a moment, affairs 
took a more tragical turn, for, the vessels 
having come close together, both parties 
prepared to board. The English turned 
all hands up from below, and nmstered for- 
ward, with that object, while Lieutenant 
Morris, Master Alwyn, and Lieutenant 
Bush, sprang upon the taffrail of the Con- 
stitution, with a similar intention. The 
position of the two frigates was already 
giving employment to the shai'pshooters of 
either side, and incessant volleys of mus- 
ketry rattled in the tumult all around. 
Morris was shot through the body, but 
maintained his post, the bullet fortunately 
missing the vitals. Alwyn was wounded 
in the shoulder. Bush, just as he was 
making the spring, was pierced bj' a ball 
in the head, and tumbled headlong, in the 
speedy agonies of death. 

On the Guerriere's striking her flag, and 
being in a sinking condition, Captain Hull 
immediately sent his boats to bring the 
wounded and prisoners on board the Con- 
stitution. At about two o'clock in the 
afternoon, a sail was discovered off the lar- 
board beam, standing to the south. The 
Constitution was instantly cleared for 
action ; but at three, the vessel stood 
awaj'. At daybreak, information was 
received from the lieutenant on board the 
prize, that the Guerriere was an unman- 
ageable wreck, with four feet of water in 
the hold, and in a sinking condition. As 
soon, therefore, as all the crew were 
removed from on board of her, she was 
abandoned, and her shattered hulk set fire 
to and blown up. During the whole 
period of combat, the total loss on board 
the Constitution amounted to seven killed 
and seven wounded, and, as soon as she 
had rove new rigging, applied the neces- 
sary stoppers, and bent a few sails, she 
was readj', as has been seen, to engage 
another frigate. Captain Hull, in his 
tribute to his crew, says: "They all 
fought with great bravery; from the 
smallest boy in the ship to the oldest 



230 



OUR FIKST CENTURY._1776-1876. 




ACTION nETWEEN THE FRIGATES C0K8TITUTI0N ASD OUEOBIERE. 



spanian, not a look of fear was seen. They 
all went into ai'tion giving three cheers, 
and requesting to be laid close alongside 
the enemy." In the very heat of the 
engagement, one of the crew of the Con- 
stitution, perceiving that the flag at the 
foretop-mast head had been shot away, 
wont up with it, and lashed it so securely 



as to render its removal impossible, unless 
the mast went with it. 

The total casualties, from first to last, 
on board the Gnerriere, in killed and 
wounded, numbered nearly eighty, com- 
prising about one-third of her entire crew, 
and, according to the statement of Captain 
Dacres, in his defense before the court 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



231 



which tried him for the loss of his sliip, 
she had, besides being dismasted, received 
no less tlian thirty shot as low as five 
sheets of copper beneath the bends. 

In respect to armament and force, the 
Guerriere rated thirty-eight guns, and car- 
ried forty-nine, one of which was a light 
boat-carronade. Her gun-deck metal was 
eighteen-pounders, and her carronades, like 
those of the Constitution, thirt^'-twos. 
The Guerriere was a French-built ship, 
and nearly as long as her adversary, 
though the latter was somewhat larger and 
heavier. The Constitution rated forty- 
four guns, and mounted fifty-five. On an 
actual weight, however, of the shot of both 
ships, it was found that the Constitution's 
twenty-fours were only three pounds heav- 
ier than the Guerriere's eighteens, and 
there was nearly the same difference in 
favor of the latter's thirty-twos. The 
great inferiority of the Guerriere was in 
her men, as she mustered but two hundred 
and sixty-three souls at quarters, in conse- 
quence of the absence of some of the offi- 
cers and men who had charge of prizes. 
Captain Dacres had also some ten or a 
dozen Americans in his force, who refused 
to fight, and, much to his credit, he per- 
mitted them to go below. The Constitu- 
tion's complement of men was four hundred 
and fifty, all newly shipped. 

The character and peculiarities of this 
victory have been justly described, by 
Cooper, as consisting in a fine disjday of 
seamanship in the approach, extraordinary 
efficiency in the attack, and great readiness 
in repairing damages, all of which denote a 
disciplined man-of-war. Nor did Captain 
Dacres lose any professional honor by his 
defeat. He had handled his ship in a 
manner to win the applause of his enemies, 
and only submitted when further resist- 
ance would have been as culpable as, in 
fact, it was impossible. Less can be said in 
favor of the efficiency of the Guerriere's 
batteries, wliich were not equal to the mode 
of fighting introduced by her antagonist, 
and which, indeed, was the commencement 
of a new era in combats between single 
ships. Never was any firing so dreadful. 



The news of this brilliant and unexam- 
pled victory — the first, in fact, of any 
importance, as yet obtained by the United 
States in the present contest, — was 
received with rapturous applause by the 
American people, especially in view of the 
victory having been achieved on the water, 
an element ujion which scarcely any Euro- 
pean nation dared to cope with Brit- 
ish prowess. The event was therefore as 
mortifying to the pride of England as can 
possibly be imagined ; for, in the long 
period of thirty years up to this date, it 
was Britain's boast that she had not lost a 
single frigate in anything like an equal 
conflict. By the English journals, the 
American navy was contemptuously spoken 
of as " a few fir-built frigates, manned by 
a handful of dastards and outlaws ! " But 
the generositj' and heroism of Captain 
Hull and his crew extorted praise even 
from the vanquished. Captain Dacres, in 
his official letter, confesses their conduct 
to have been " that of a brave enemy — the 
greatest care being taken to prevent our 
men losing the slightest article, and the 
greatest attention being paid to the 
wounded." This victory of Hull, on the 
ocean, went far to wipe out the stain upon 
American arms jjroduced by General Wil- 
liam Hull's unfortunate campaign in 
Canada. The victory of the Constitution 
over the Guerriere was soon followed by 
the capture of the Frolic by the United 
States sloop-of-war Wasp, under Lieuten- 
ant Biddle ; the capture of the Macedo- 
nian, a large frigate, by Commodore 
Decatur, of the frigate United States ; and 
the capture of the frigate Java, on the 
twenty-ninth of December, bj' Commodore 
Bainbridge, who had succeeded Hull in 
command of the Constitution. 

An amusing anecdote is related of 
Dacres, showing the effect of circum- 
stances upon the gallant captain's temper. 
A short time previous to her cajsture by 
the Constitution, the Guerriere had fallen 
in with, and taken, a French prize, France 
and England being then at war. Among 
the passengers transferred on this occasion 
to the deck of the Guerriere, was a French 



232 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



gentleman charged with dispatches to the 
American government, and who, on pre- 
senting himself to the British commander, 
was dispossessed of his books and papers, 
and peremptorily ox-dered to go below. 
Overwhelmed with this sudden and fatal 
termination of his mission, the gentleman 
passed several days in great distress of 
mind, aggravated not a little by the 
haughty bearing of Daeres. Once or 
twice, addressing him witli his blandest 
manner and best English, he said — 

" Captain Dacre, I tank you, sare, for 
my government deespatch and my law 
books." 

" Go below ! you frog-eating, sallow- 
faced wretch," was the only reply of the 
proud Briton. 

Ere long, however, a sail was descried 
on the edge of the distant horizon. Her 
gradually-increasing size gave token that 
she approached, and, as she neareil to 
view, the tapering spars and the graceful 
trim of Yankeedom were seen. Dacres, 
with glass in hand, had observed her from 
a mere speck, and as soon as he was satis- 
fied that she was American, gave vent to 
the wildest expressions of joy. He paced 
the deck with exulting step — swore he 
would ' take that craft in fifteen minutes,' — 
and, to crown his anticipated tiiuinpli, 
directed that a hogshead of molasses be 

hoisted upon deck, ' to treat the 

Yankees.' Strange as it may appear, this 
order was actually obeyed ; ami, at almost 
the first shot, the Constitution struck tlie 
hogshead, and, its contents spreading over 
the deck, conduced somewhat, no doubt, to 
the Guerriere's disadvantage in the action. 
The Frenchman, who was meanwliile a 
silent though not an uninterested observer 
of what was passing before him, again 
put on his most winning smiles, and 
remarked — 

"Captain Dacre, sare, wid your permis- 
sion I stay upon deck, and see de fifibt." 

" Go to the ," responded the rougli 

old salt — now busied in preparations for a 
bold and brilliant achievement. 

The little Frenchman was soon snugly 
ensconced among the rigging, and tin' two 



vessels continued gradually and silently to 
approacli each other. Tile Constitution 
having finally got within reach of the 
enemy's long-guns, the scene that followed 
is tlms described by the lively "deespatch" 
bearer: — "Captain Dacre, he sail dis way, 
and den he sail dat way, and again he go 
— hooni ! De Yankee man, he say nothing 
— but still keep comin'. Again, Cajitain 
Dacre sail dis way, and den he sail dat 
wa}', and again lie go — boom ! £nfin, de 
Yankee man go juip, pop. pop, — pop, pop, 
pop! I say to Captain I)a<'re, 'Sare, wid 
your permission I go below — '//« too hot 
here!'" 

He went below ; and the action con- 
tinued. ^Vhen the firing ceased, the sleep- 
less little Frcm-hman, peeping up the 
hatchway, espied one ofticer-like man, and 
Cajjtain Dacres handing his sword. The 
truth flashed upon him in an instant. He 
rushed upon dcrk ; and iimling himself 
again at liberty, he capered about like one 
'possessed.' Finally advancing to the 
now mute and fallen Dacres, lie said, with 
an air which utterly defies description : 

" You tell me, sare, j-ou take dis ship in 
fifteen minutes; b^' gar, he take you! 
Now, sare," he added, with a low and 
bitter emphasis, " I tank you for my gov- 
ernment deespatch and law books." 

As has already been stated, the crew of 
the Constitution became somewhat impa- 
tient at Hull's cdol delay to commence 
action, after receiving the (iucrriere's first 
fire. Even ilorris, on seeing bis favorite 
coxswain carried by a shot, looked rather 
liard at ' the old man,' as Hull, though 
young in years, was familiarly called, and 
then walked up to him, saying, by way of 
liint, in a low tone, "The ship is ready for 
action, sir, and the men are getting impa- 
tient." Hull never turned, but, keeping 
his eye steadily on the enemy, simjily 
replied, "Are — you — all ready, Mr. 
IMorris?" "All ready," said the lieuten- 
ant. "Don't fire a gun fill I give the 
orders, Mr. Morris," was flic rejoinder. 
Presently, up went a niidshipnuin from the 
main deck, and, fouchiiii; his cap, said to 
' the old iiiaii,' " First division all ready, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



:oo 



sir, — the second lieutenant reports the 
enemy's shot liave hurt his men, and he 
can with difficulty restrain them from 
returning their fire." " Tell them to wait 
for orders," was Hull's reply again, with- 
out deigning to turn his head. At length, 
however, when the Constitution had actu- 
ally become enveloped in the enemy's 
smoke, and even the old gun-boat men 
began to stare wonderingly, up jumped the 
great-hearted Hull in the air, slapped his 
hand on his thigh with a report like a 
pistol, and roared out in a voice that 
reached the gunners in the magazines, — 

" Now, Mr. Morris, give it to tlieni, — 
now give it to them, — fore and aft, — round 
and grape, — give it to 'em, sir, — r/ive it to 
'cm!" 

These words were scarcely uttered, 
before a wliole broadside glanced at half 
pistol shot — the old ship trembling from 
her keel to her trucks, like an aspen, 
with the roar and crash of her own guns, 
— then, instantly shooting ahead and 
doubling across the enemy's bows, another 



broadside was poured into her, with 
three deafening cheers. It was terrible. 
The continual boom and flash of the 
batteries seemed like a thunder-storm in 
the tropics. 

The Constitution arrived in Boston 
harbor, the last of August. Never did any 
event spread such universal joy over the 
whole country, and such astonishment 
throughout Europe, as this complete and 
magnificent victory. The gallant Hull, 
as well as his equally-gallant officers and 
crew, were received with enthusiastic dem- 
onstrations of gratitude, wherever they 
appeared. He was presented with the 
freedom of all the cities, on his route to the 
seat of government, and with elegant serv- 
ices of silver-plate, also the thanks of leg- 
islative and otlier bodies ; several officers 
were promoted ; and congress voted fifty 
thousand dollars to the crew, as a recom- 
pense for the loss of the prize. 

At home and abroad, the valor of the 
American sailor was acknowledged to be 
a fixed fact. 



XXIV. 

AMERICA AND ENGLAND MATCHED AGAINST EACH 
OTHER IN SQUADRON COMBAT.— 1813. 



Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter. — Sixteen Vessels Engaged.— The British, under Captain Bar- 
clay, one of Lord Nelson's Veteran Officers, and with n Superior Force, are Thoroughly Beaten by 
the Americans, under Commodore Oliver H. Perry. — Kver)- British Vessel Captured — General Harrison 
Completes the Victorious Work on Land — Building of the Fleet on the Lake. — Great Difficulties to be 
Overcome. — Commodore I'erry tlie Master Spirit. — Completion and Sailing of the Fleet. — Challenge 
to the Enemy. — Line of Battle Formed. — I'erry's Blue Union-Jack. — Its Motto, "Don't Give Up the 
Ship I " — Wild Enthusiasm of his Men. — Flagship Lawrence in the Van — Meets the Whole Opposing 
Fleet. — Badly Crippled in a Two Hours' Fight. — Huzzas of the Enemy. — The Day Supposed to be 
Theirs — Indomitable Resolution of I'erry. — He Puts Oll'in an Open Boat. — Ueaclies the Niagara with 
His Flag. — Again Battles with the Foe. — Severe and Deadly Conflict. — American Prowess Invincible. 
— Barclay Strikes His Colors. — I'erry only Twenty-seven Years Old. 



Wt liflvc met the enemy, and they ora our«.'"—rKiuir's Mcmobaolb Dispatcu Akkoukcixo His ViOTOBT, 





OREIGN nations, who still smiled incredulously at tlio pre- 
tt'iisions of the United States in carrying on an ocean war- 
*''i> . ■^- fare with tlie proud " nii.strcss of the seas," — as England 
was everywhere acknowledged to be, — were now to receive, 
in adilition to the splendid victory of the United States 
l^ -^ frigate Constitution over the Guerriere, fresh and decisive 

PERnv's FLAo ON LAKE ERIE, proof of thc Haval supremacy of the youthful rej)ublic, in the 
magnificeiit triumph achieved by Commodore Oliver H. Perry, on the waters of Lake 
Erie. Here, for the first time in the history of the western world, the flag of a 
British squadron was struck, humiliatingly, to the Americans. Great Britain had 
already been signally defeated in single naval combats, during the present contest; 
she was now beaten in squadron, — every one of her ships striking their colors to 
the stars and stripes. 

The unexpected and disgraceful surrender of the northern army under General 
Hull, to the British, rendered a superior force on Lake Erie necessary for the de- 
fense of the American territory bordering on the lake, as well as for offensive opera- 
tions in Canada. Under these circumstances Oliver H. Perry, a brave and accom- 
plished young officer, who h.id the command of a gunboat flotilla for the defense 
of New York, was designated to the command on Lake Erie. But, at this time, the 
United States possessed no naval force on the lake ; the oidy vessels bi'longing to 
the government were captured at Detroit. The southern or American lake shore, 
being principally a sand beach formed by the sediment driven by the northerly 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS, 



235 



winds, afforded but few harbors, and those 
encumbered with bars at their entrance. 
At Presque Isle, ninety miles west of Buf- 
falo, a peninsula extending a considerable 
distance into the lake encircles a harbor, on 
the borders of which was the port of Erie. 

At this place, Commodore Perry was 
directed to locate, and superintend a naval 
establishment, the object of which was to 
create a superior force on the lake. The 
difficulties of building a navy- in the wil- 
derness can only be conceived by those 
who have experienced them. There was 
nothing at this spot out of which it could 
be built, but the timber of the forest. 
Ship-builders, sailors, naval stores, guns, 
and ammunition, were all to be transported 
by land, in wagons, and over bad roads, a 
distance of four hundred miles, either from 
Albany by the way of Buffalo, or from 
Philadelphia by the way of Pittsburg. 
But under all these embarrassments, by 
the first of August, 1813, Commodore 
Perry had provided a flotilla, consisting of 
the ships Lawrence and Niagara, of twenty 
guns each, and seven smaller vessels, to 
wit, one of four guns, one of three, two of 
two, and three of one. 

While the ships were building, the 
enemy frequently appeared off the harbor 
and threatened their destruction ; but the 
shallowness of the water on the bar, tliere 
being but five feet, prevented their ap- 
proach. The same cause, which insured 
the safety of the vessels while building, 
seemed likely to prevent their being of 
any service when completed. The two 
largest drew several feet more water than 
there was on the bar. The inventive 
genius of Perry, however, soon surmounted 
this difficulty. He placed large scows on 
each side of these two, filled them so that 
they sank to the water-edge, then attached 
them to the ships by strong pieces of 
timber, and pumped out the water. The 
scows, in this way, buoyed up the ships, 
enabling them to pass the bar in safety. 
This operation was performed in the very 
eyes of the enemy. 

Having gotten his fleet in readiness. 
Commodore Perry proceeded to the head 



of the lake and anchored in Put-in Bay, 
opposite to and distant thirty miles from 
Maiden, where the British fleet lay under 
the guns of the fort. He remained at 
anchor here several days, watching the 
British fleet, and waiting a chance to 
offer battle. 

On the morning of the tenth of Septem- 
ber, 1813, the enemy was discovered bear- 
ing down upon the American force, which 
immediatel3' got under weigh, and stood 
out to meet him. Perrj' had nine vessels, 
consisting of the Lawrence, his flag-ship, 
of twenty guns ; the Niagara, Captain 
Elliott, of twenty; the Caledonian, Lieu- 
tenant Turner, of three; the schooner 
Ariel, of four ; the Scorpion, of two ; the 
Somers, of two guns and two swivels ; the 
sloop Trippe, and schooners Tigress and 
Porcupine, of one gun each. 

The force of the British consisted of the 
Detroit, flag-shijJ of Commodore Barclay, 
and carrying nineteen guns and two how- 
itzers ; the Queen Chai-lotte, Captain 
Finnis, of seventeen guns ; the schooner 
Lady Prevost, Lieutenant Buchan, of 
thirteen guns and two howitzers ; the brig 
Hunter, of ten guns ; the sloop Little 
Belt, of three guns ; and tlie schooner 
Chippewa, of one gun and two swivels. 
Thus, the belligerents stood, in respect to 
force and power, as follows : The Ameri- 
cans had nine vessels, carr^ying fifty-four 
guns and two swivels ; the British, six 
vessels, carrying sixty-three guns, four 
howitzers, and two swivels. 

Commodore Perry got under way with 
a light breeze at the south-west. Sum- 
moning his commanding officers by signal 
to the deck of the Lawrence, he gave them 
in a few words their last instructions pre- 
paratory to the approaching battle, and, 
unfolding his union-jack, a blue flag upon 
which was inscribed in white letters the 
motto of the American navj-, " Don't 
GIVE UP THE SHIP ! " The sight of this 
flag, bearing upon it the dj'ing words of 
the brave Captain Lawrence, brought the 
most enthusiastic cheers from the crew. 
As the officers were about taking their 
leave. Perry declared that it was his 



236 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



iutention to briiif; the enemy to dose <)uar- 
ters from the lirst, uiul tliat lie could not 
advise them better than in the words of 
Lord Nelson — " If you lay j'our enemy 
close alongside, you can not be out of your 
place." As soon, therefore, as the ap- 
proach of the eneni^' warranted the display 
of the signal, every vessel was under sail, 
beating out against a light head-wind, and 
with the boats ahead towing. The object 
was, to beat to the windward of the 
islands which now interj)osed between the 
two approaching squadrons, and, thus gain- 
ing the weather-gauge, to bear down with 
that important advantage upon the foe. 
The wind, however, was light and baffling; 
and Perry's patience was so severely tried 
by the incessant tacking, that, seeing time 
lost, and but little progress made, he 
called out to his sailing-master, — 

"Taylor, you wear ship and run to the 
leeward of the islands." 

" Then we'll have to engage the enemy 
from the leeward," exclaimed Taylor. 

"I don't care — to windward or to lee- 
ward, tliey shall fiijht to-dai/" was Perry's 
instant response. 




'~-€^m^ 



He now fornnd the line of battle, the 
wind suddenly shifting to the south-east, 
thus bearing the sipiadron clear of the 
islands, and enabling it to keep the 
weather-gauge. But the moderateness of 
the breeze caused the hostile scpiadrons to 
approach each other but slowly, thus pro- 



longing the solemn interval of suspense 
and anxiety which precedes a battle. The 
order and regularity of naval discipline 
heightened the dreadful quiet of this 
impressive prelude. No noise, no bustle, 
prevailed to distract the mind — except, at 
intervals, the shrill pipings of the boat- 
swain's whistle, or a murmuring whisper 
among the men, who stood in groups 
around their guns, with lighted matches, 
narrowly watching the movements of the 
foe, and sometimes stealing a glance at the 
countenances of their commanders. In 
this manner, the opposing fleets gradually 
neared each other in awful silence. Even 
the sick felt a thrill uf the pervading deep 
emotion, and, with fancied renewal of 
strength, offered their feeble services in 
the coming conflict. To one of these poor 
fellows, who had crawled up on deck, to 
have a hand in the fight, the sailing-master 
said : 

" Go below, Ma\'s, you are too weak to 
be here." 

" I can do something, sir," replied the 
brave old tar. 

" What can you do ? " 

"I can sound the pump, sir, and let a 
strong man go to the guns."' 

It was even so. He sat down by the 
pump, and sent the strong man to the 
guns; and when the fight was ended, 
there he was found, with a ball in his 
heart. He was from Newport; his name, 
AVilsoii Mays ; his montnnent and ei)itaph, 
the grateful memory of a whole nation. 

As they were coming nearer and nearer 
the British fleet (says Dr. Tomes, in his 
admirable delineation of this battle), and 
by twelve o'clock would certainly be in 
the midst of action, the noonday-grog was 
served in advance, and the bread-bags 
freely emptied. In a moment after, how- 
ever, every man was again at quarters. 
Perry now went round tlic deck, from gun 
to gun, stopping at each, carefully exam- 
ining its condition, and passing a cheerful 
word with the " laptain." Recognizing 
some of the old tars who h.ad served on 
board the Constitution, he said, "Well, 



boy^ 



are vuu re; 



adv V ' 



' All ready, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



237 



your lionor ! " was tho prompt reply, as 
they touched their tarpaulins, or the hand- 
kerchiefs in which some of them had 
wrapped their heads, that they might be as 
unencumbered as possible for the fight. 
" But I need not say anything to you," 
rejoined their commander — "you know 
how to beat these fellows" — and he passed 
on. His face now beamed with a smile of 
friendly interest as he recognized some of 
his fellow-townsmen, exclaiming, " Ah, 
hero are the Newport boys ! Thetj will do 
their duty, I warrant." 

At fifteen minutes after eleven, a bugle 
was sounded on board the enemy's head- 
most ship, the Detroit, loud cheers burst 
from all their crews, and a tremendous fire 
opened upon the Lawrence, from the 
British long-guns, and which, from the 
shortness of the Lawrence's, the latter was 
obliged to sustain for some forty minutes, 
without being able to return a shot. 

Losing no time in waiting for the other 
ships, Commodore Perry kept on his course 
in such gallant and determined style, that 
the enemy supposed he meant immediately 
to board. At about twelve o'clock, having 
gained a more favorable position, the Law- 
rence opened her fire, but the long-guns of 
the British still gave them greatly the 
advantage, and the Lawrence was exceed- 
ingly cut up, without being able to do 
much of any damage in return. Their 
shot pierced her side in all directions, even 
killing the men in the berth-deck and 
steerage, where they had been carried to 
be dressed. One shot had nearly produced 
a fatal explosion ; passing through the 
light room, it knocked the snuff of the 
candle into the magazine — but which was 
fortunately seen by the gunner, who had 
the presence of mind immediately to seize 
and extinguish it. It appeared to be the 
enemy's plan at all events to destroy the 
commander's ship ; their heaviest fire was 
directed against the Lawrence, and blazed 
incessantly from all their largest vessels. 

Eluding the peculiar and imminent 
hazard of his situation. Perry made all 
sail, and directed the other vessels to 
follow, for the jiurpose of closing with the 



enemy. The tremendous fire, however, 
to which he was exposed, soon cut away 
every brace and bowline of the Lawrence, 
and she became unmanageable. The other 
vessels were unable to get up; and in this 
disastrous situation, therefore, she still 
continued to sustain the main force of the 
enemy's fire, within canister distance, 
though, during a considerable part of this 
terrible ordeal, not more than two or three 
of her guns could be brought to bear with 
any material effect upon her antagonist. 

Throughout all this scene of ghastly 
horror, however, the utmost order and reg- 
ularity prevailed, without the least sign of 
trepidation or faintheartedness ; as fast as 
the men at the guns were wounded, they 
were quietly carried below, and others 
stejjped manfully into their places; the 
dead remained where they fell, until after 
the action. 

At this juncture, the enemy believed 
the battle to be won. The Lawrence was 
reduced to a mere wreck ; her deck was . 
streaming with blood, and covered with 
the mangled limbs and bodies of the slain, 
nearly the whole of her crew were either 
killed or wounded ; her guns, too, were 
dismounted, — the commodore and his offi- 
cers personally working the last that was 
capable of service, assisted by the few 
hands j-et remaining capable of duty. 
According to the account given by Dr. 
Parsons, the surgeon of the Lawrence, the 
muscular material was reduced to its abso- 
lute minimum. " When the battle had 
raged an hour and a half," says Dr. Par- 
sons, " I heard a call for me at the small 
skylight, and, stepping toward it, I saw it 
was the commodore, whose countenance 
was calm and placid as if on ordinary 
duty. 'Doctor,' said he, ' send me one of 
your men,' — meaning one of the six that 
were to assist me ; which was done in- 
stantly. In five minutes the call was 
repeated and obeyed ; and at the seventh 
call, I told him he had them all. He 
asked if any could pull a rope, when two 
or three of the wounded crawled upon deck 
to lend a feeble hand in pulling at the last 
guns." So close and desperate was this 



238 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




conflict ; so brare and courageous 
the lieart.s of those w)io fuuglit for 
tlie honor and rights of America. 

It was two o'clock, and Captain 
Elliott, of the Niagara, was 
enabled by the aid of a fresh 
breeze to bring his ship into 
close action in gallant style. 
Finding, now, that no resistance 
or liostility on the part of the 
Lawrence could be profitably* pei^ 
sisted in. Perry suddenly formed 
the determination to shift his flag 
to Elliott's ship ; and, leaving his 
own vessel in charge of her 
lieutenant, the brave and gallant 
Yarnall, he hauled down his 
union-jack, and, taking it under 
his arm, ordered a boat to put 
him on board the Niagara. He 
passed the line of the enemy, 
exposed to a perfect shower of 
their musketry, still standing in 
tlie boat, — waving his sword and 
gallantly cheering his men, — a 
markftl and pointed object from 
three of the enemy's ships, until 
he was forcibly pulled down by 
his own men. He arrived safe, 
and tumultuous huzzas rent the 
air as he again unfurled and 
hoisted aloft his union-jack, with 
its inspiring motto, 'Don't give 
up the ship I ' gaily kissing the 
breeze. On seeing their noble 
commander step upon the deck of 
the Niagara, the crew of the 
Lawrence — the few that yet 
remained — sent up three lusty 
cheers. The question with which 
Elliott first saluted Porry was — 

" How is the day going ? " 

" Badly I " was the brief reply ; 
"and do you see those infernal 
gun-boats — they have lost us tlie 
victor}" ! " 

" No ! " exclaimed Elliott ; " do 
you take command of this ship, 
and I will bring up the boats." 

Elliott at once put off. to bring 
up the schooners which had been 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



239 



kept back by the lightness of the wind. 
At this moment, the flag of the Lawrence 
was hauled down. Lieutenant Yarnall, 
upon whom the command of the vessel 
devolved after the commodore left her, 
refused for some time to leave the deck, 
though more than once wounded; and 
Lieutenant Brooks and Midshipman Saul 
were both killed. As the surgeon was 
stooping, in the act of dressing or examin- 
ing a wound, a ball passed through the 
ship a few inches from his head, which, 
had it been erect, must have been taken 
off. The principal force of the enemy's fire 
had now been sustained uninterruptedly' 
by the Lawrence, and, as she was rendered 
totally incapable of defense, any further 
show of resistance would have been a use- 
less sacrifice of the remnant of her brave 
and mangled crew. The enemy were at 
the same time so crippled, that they were 
unable to take possession of her, and cir- 
cumstances soon enabled her crew again 
to raise the American flag. 

Commodore Perry now gave the signal 
to all the vessels for close action. The 
small vessels, under the direction of Elli- 
ott, got out their sweeps, and made all 
sail. On an inspection of the Niagara, 
and finding her but little injured, Perry 
determined upon the bold and desperate 
expedient of breaking the enemj''s line ; 
he accordingly bore up and passed the 
head of the two ships and brig, giving 
them a raking fire from his starboard 
guns, and also a raking fire upon a large 
schooner and sloop, from his larboard 
quarter, at half pistol shot. 

Having brought the whole squadron 
into action. Perry luffed up and laid his 
ship alongside of the British commodore, 
Barclay, of the Lady Prevost. Approach- 
ing within half pistol shot, Perry's fire 
was so destructive that the enemy's men 
were compelled to run below. At this 
moment the wind freshened, and the Cal- 
edonia came up and opened her fire upon 
the British; and several others of the 
squadron were enabled soon after to do 
the same, — the small vessels having now- 
got up within good grape-and-canister 



distance on the other quarter, inclosed 
their enemy between them and the Niag- 
ara, and in this position kept up a most 
deadly fire on both quarters of the British. 
For a time, the combat raged with inde- 
scribable violence and fury. The result of 
a campaign — the command of a sea — the 
glory and renown of two rival nations 
matched for the first time in squadron, — 
these were the issues at stake which in- 
spirited the combatants. The contest was 
not long doubtful. The Queen Charlotte 
having lost her captain and all her princi- 
pal officers, by some mischance ran foul of 
her colleague, the Detroit. By this acci- 
dent, the greater part of their guns were 
rendered useless, and the two ships were 
now in turn compelled to sustain an inces- 
sant fire from the Niagara and the other 
vessels of the American squadron. The 
flag of Captain Barclay soon struck ; and 
the Queen Charlotte, the Lady Prevost, 
the Hunter, and the Chippewa, surren- 
dered in immediate succession. The 
Little Belt attempted to escape, but was 
pursued by two gun-boats, and captured. 
Thus, after a contest of three hours, was a 
naval victory achieved bj' the Americans, 
in which every vessel of the enemy was 
captured. If anj'thing could enhance its 
brilliancj' it was the modest and laconic 
manner in which, Csesar-like, it was 
announced by the gallant victor — 

" WE HAVE MET THE EXEMY, AND THEY 
ARE OURS ! " 

The carnage in this action was very 
great in proportion to the numbers en- 
gaged. The Americans had twenty-seven 
killed, and ninetj--six wounded. The loss 
of the British was about two hundred in 
killed and wounded, many of these being 
officers ; and the prisoners, amounting to 
six hundred, exceeded the whole number 
of Americans. Commodore Barclay, a 
gallant sailor, one of whose arms had been 
shot off at the battle of Trafalgar, under 
Lord Nelson, was severely wounded in the 
hip, and lost the use of his remaining arm. 
Perry was but twentj'-seven years old, and 
had scarcely recovered from an attack of 
the lake-fever, when he thus 'met the 



240 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



enemy,' — a circumstanre that liei^litons 
the estimate to be put upon liis indomita- 
ble perseverance and bravery on tliis occa- 
sion. To his adroit transfer of liis com- 
mand to the Niagara, passing througli the 
thickest of the battle in an open boat, may 
fairly be attributed his brilliant fortune 
on that eventful day. His success raised 
him to the very pinnacle of professional 
renown, and the naval supremacy of tlie 
United States upon the lakes was tri- 
umphantly secured. 

This important and decisive battle was 
fought midway of the lake, between the 
two hostile armies, who lay on the opjio- 
site shores, waiting in anxious expectation 
of its result, — the allied British and Indian 
forces, to the amount of nearly five thou- 
sand, under Proctor and Tecnmseh, being 
ready, in case of a successful issue, to 
renew their ravages on the American 
borders. The fruits of this victory, there- 
fore, were such as to cause unbounded 
demonstrations of joy in the United States. 
All jiarty-feclings were for the time for- 
gotten; and the glorious occurrence was 
celebrated by illuminations and festivities, 
from one end of the continent to the other. 
During this same year, our gallant navy 
was victorious in the capture of the sloop- 
of-war Peacock, by Captain James Law- 
rence ; and in the capture of the brig 
Boxer, by the Enterprise, commanded by 
Lieutenant Barrows. The British, how- 
ever, on the first of June, rejoiced in the 
capture of the Chesapeake by the frigate 
Shannon, off Boston harbor, and, on the 
fourteenth of August, in the capture of the 
Argus, Captain Allen, by the Pelican. 
The liritish were also victorious on land, 
at the battles of Mackinaw, Queenstown, 
Frenchtown, and some other points ; but 
lost the battles of York, Fort Jleigs, and 
the Thames. The proposed invasion of 
Canada, under the direction of Generals 
Dearlmrn, ■\Vilkiiisnn, Hampton, Lewis, 
and Izard, proved a failure. Such a vic- 
torij, therefore, as that of Pemj, was well 
calrulated to fill the nation ifith jo;/. 

The struggle being ended, and Perry 
acquainting himself with the condition 



and wants of the several vessels and their 
crews, at last visited the shattered remains 
of the Lawrence. The deck was slij)- 
jiery with blood and brains, and strewed 
with the bodies of officers and men, and 
the ship resounded everywhere with tin- 
groans of the wounded. Those of the 
crew who were spared and able to walk or 
limp, approached the gallant captain with 
tears in their eyes, and with outstretched 
arms of welcome ; but the salutation was 
a silent one on both sides, — so overcome 
with emotion were the hearts of these 
brave men, that not a word could find 
utterance. The principal loss in the 
whole action was on board the Lawrence, 
so indomitable was Perry's resolution not 
to be conquered. In memory of this he- 
roic service to liis countrj', there was 
erected in I860, at Cleveland, Ohio, near 
the scene of his great battle, a marble 
statue l>v AValcutt. 

Two days after the battle, two Indian 
chiefs who had been selected for their 
skill as marksmen, and stationed in the 
tops of the Detroit for the purpose of pick- 
ing off the American officers, were found 
snugl3' stowed awaj' in the hold of that 
ship. These savages, who had been ac- 
customed to vessels of no greater magni- 
tude than what they could sling upon their 
backs, when the action became warm, 
were so panic-struck at the terrors of the 
scene and at the strange perils surround- 
ing them, that, looking at each other in 
amazement, they vociferated their signifi- 
cant ' Quonth ! ' and ]>recipitately de- 
scended to the hold. In their British 
uniforms, hanging in bags upon their fam- 
ished bodies, they were now brought be- 
fore Commodore Perrv, fed, and discharged, 
— no further parole being necessary to 
prevent their ever engaging again in a 
similar contest. 

The slain of the crews of both squadrons 
were committed to the hike immediately 
after the action ; and, the next day, the 
funeral obsequies of the American and 
British officers who had fallen, were per- 
formed at an opening on the margin of 
the baj-, in an appropriate and affecting 



GREAT A^B MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



241 



manner. The crews of both fleets united 
in the ceremony. The autumnal stillness 
of the weather — the procession of boats — 
the music — the slow and regular motion 
of the oars, striking in exact time with the 
notes of the solemn dirge — the mournful 
waving of the flags — the sound of the 
minute-guns from all the ships- — the wild 
and solitary aspect of the place ; — all these 
gave to this funeral ceremonial a most 
impressive influence, in striking contrast 
with the terrible conflict of the preceding 
day. Two American and three British 
officers were interred side by side of each 
other, in this lonely place of sepulture, on 
the margin of the lake, a few paces from 
the beach. 

In his official dispatch. Perry speaks in 
the highest terms of the co-operation, 
bravery and judgment, of his associate. 
Captain Elliott. Nevertheless, there is 
universal agreement with the assertion 
made by Mackenzie, the appreciating biog- 
rapher of this heroic commander, that the 
battle of Erie was won not merely by the 
genius and inspiration, but eminently by 
the exertions, of one man, — a young man 
of twenty-seven, who had never beheld a 
naval engagement. He had dashed boldly 
into action with the Lawrence, trusting 
that the rear of his line would soon be 
able to close up to his support. Sustained, 
however, only bj' the Caledonia, the Ariel, 
and the Scorpion, he resisted for two hours 
or more the whole of the British squadron. 
Overcome at last. Perry made a new ar- 
rangement of his remaining resources, and 
snatched from the enemy, with desperate 



obstinacy, a victory which that enemv had 
already claimed with exulting cheers for 
his own. This he accomplished by an 
evolution unsurpassed for genius and hard- 
ihood, bearing down with dauntless assur- 
ance upon the whole of the opposing fleet, 
and dashing with his fresh and uninjured 
vessel through the enemj^'s line, to their 
dismay and complete discomfiture. And 




this victory on the lake was so much the 
more important from its enabling General 
Harrison to recover from the British in- 
vaders the American territory which they 
had occupied, and to pursue them into 
Canada, where, on the fifth of October, 
they were totally routed in the battle of 
the Thames. Nearly all the British force 
was either captured or slain, and their 
famous Indian ally, Tecumseh, here ended 
his life. 



16 



XXV. 

CONQUEST AND BURNING OF WASHINGTON, BY THE 

BRITISH.— 1814. 



Precipitate Flight of the President of tlie United States, and His Cabinet— The Capitals of Europe 
Protected from Fire and Devastation by Their Conquerors. — Contrast of British Warfare in America. 
— The Capitol, Presidential Mansion, etc., Sacked and Fired. — National Indignation Arouseil by These 
Barbarities. — Veterans from Europe's Battle-Fields E.\ecute these Deeds. — Orders to " I-ay Waste" 
the American Coast. — Operations at the South. — Wasliinijton the Prize in View. — Inetflciency of its 
Defense. — Winder and Barney in Command. — The Idea of an Attack Scouted.— Onward March of 
the Invaders. — Fearful Excitement in the City. — High Officials in Camp. — The Armies at Bladens- 
burg. — Winder Defeated, Barney Taken — Ross's Progress Unopposed — Complete Master of the 
_g^ City. — A Rush for the Spoils. — British Soldiers in the White 

'^^^^^r, "' '^ - House. — They Eat the President's Dinner. — Cockburn's 

Bold Infamy. — Betreat of the Vandal Foe. — Their March 
Upon Baltimore. — Ross Shot Dead in the Fight. 




[ viU make t cow-pasture of these Tankc« Capitol Krounda."— Gc5ZBal Ross. 



A CLOUD ON THE NATIONAI, 
ESCUTOHEOy. 



.Vl;].>LY any event connected with the second war with 
Great Britain aroused so universal a spirit of indignation 
I'll tlie part of the people of the United States — so united 
■A sentiment of hostility — against their ancient enemy, as 
the capture and burning of "Washington city, the federal 
capital, August twenty-fourth, 1814. 
The commencement of this year was distinguished by military and political occur- 
rences of transcendent importance, such as the entry of the allied armies into Paris, 
the forced abdication of Napoleon, his exile to Elba, and the establishment of general 
peace on the continent. But these momentous transactions, which filled the Eur()j>ean 
world with almost boundless e.xultation, produced in America a very different imj)re.s- 
sion. The fact of pacification having been, at last, definitely accomi)lished throughout 
Europe, offered to the British a large disposable force, both naval and military, — that 
which had been so successfully instrumental in overthrowing the greatest power and 
most masterly warrior in the world. With this force, England resolved on giving to 
the war in America a character of new and increased activity and extent ; and the 
royal authorities accordingly promulgated it as their determined purpose to lay waste 
the whole American coast, from Maine to Georgia. 

In pursuance of this sanguinary programme of operations. Admiral Sir Alexander 
Cockburn was intrusted with the British naval armament, and the army was jmt in 
command of Major-General Ross, a brave leader in the Peninsula wars, under Welling- 
ton, the conqueror of Napoleon. 



GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



243 



About the middle of August, an English 
squadron of between fifty and sixty sail 
arrived in the Chesapeake, with troops 
destined to strike the first decisive blow, 
namely, an attack on Washington, the 
metropolis of the United States. Of the 
American forces. General Winder, as the 
successor of General Van Ness, aided by 
General Walter Brown and John E. How- 
ard, was in command of the army, and 
Commodore Barney of the flotilla. The 
enemy divided his force into three parts. 
One division was sent up the Potomac, 
under Captain Gordon, for the jjurpose of 
bombarding Fort Warburton, and opening 
the way to the city of Washington ; and 
another, under Sir Peter Parker, was 
dispatched to threaten Baltimore. 

The main body ascended the Patuxent, 
apparently with the intention of destroy- 
ing Commodore Barney's flotilla, which 
had taken refuge at the head of that river, 
but with the real intention, as it was soon 
discovered, of attacking Washington. In 
the prosecution of this plan, the expedition 
proceeded to Benedict, the head of frigate 
navigation. This place, on the west bank 
of the Patuxent, was reached on the nine- 
teenth of August ; and, on the next day, 
the debarkation of the land forces under 
General Ross, to the number of six thou- 
sand, was completed. On the twenty-first, 
pursuing the course of the river, the troojss 
moved to Nottingham, and on the twenty- 
second arrived at Upper Marlborough ; a 
flotilla, consisting of launches and barges, 
under Cockburn's command, ascending the 
river and keeping pace with them. The 
day following, the flotilla of Commodore 
Barney, in obedience to orders to that 
effect, was blown up by men left for that 
purpose, the commodore having already 
joined General Winder with his seamen 
and marines. 

At this time, when the invading army 
was within twenty miles of the capital. 
Winder was at the head of only three 
thousand men, one-half of whom were mili- 
tia entirely untried. The Baltimore mili- 
tia, those from Annapolis, and the Vir- 
ginia detachment, had not yet arrived. 



His camp was at the Woodyard, twelve 
miles from Washington. It was still 
doubtful whether the British intended an 
attack upon Port Warburton, which could 
offer but little resistance to their land 
forces, although it could be formidable to 
their ships, or intended to march directly 
on Washington. The secretary of war. 
General Armstrong, himself an old soldier, 
scouted the idea of an attack on the capi- 
tal, saying, energetically — 

" Have they artillery ? No. Have they 
cavalry ? No. Then don't tell an old sol- 
dier that any regular army will or can come. 
We are more frightened than hurt, or 
likelj' to be. Wliat do they want, what 
can they get, in this sheep-walk? (as he 
ironically termed the ' city of magnificent 
distances.') If they want to do anj'thing, 
they must go to Baltimore, not come to 
this barren wilderness !" 

But the secretary's military judgment 
was found to be at fault, as events soon 
showed. Alarmed at the threatening 
aspect of affairs, President Madison con- 
vened a special cabinet-council, to devise 
measures for meeting the extraordinary 
emergency. The District of Columbia, 
with parts of the adjacent states, was con- 
stituted a distinct military department, 
and a proclamation was issued for the 
assembling of congress at a speedy day. 
But, in anticipation of such movements as 
these, the British army again set out, on 
the afternoon of the twenty-second, and, 
after skirmishing with the Americans, 
halted for the night. General Winder 
now retreated to a place called the Old 
Pields, which covered Bladensburg, the 
bridges on the east branch of the Potomac, 
and Fort Warburton. Colonel Monroe, 
the secretary of state, and subsequently 
president of the United States, had been 
with the commanding general for several 
days, assisting him with his counsel, and 
actively engaged in reconnoitering the 
enemj'. Late in the evening of the 
twenty-second. President Madison, the 
secretaries of war and navy, and the attor- 
ney-general, joined General Winder ; here 
they slept that night, and remained on the 



244 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ground until the evening of the twenty- 
third, when, in view of the possibility of 
an iminediiite attack, it was concluded to 
abandon that position, and retire to the 
eastern branch bridge. 

On the morning of the twenty-third. 
General Winder's army had been duly 
mustered and reviewed by the president. 
It then consisted of four hundred horse, 
under the command of Colonel Tilghman ; 
four hundred regular troops, under Colonel 
Scott; six hundred marines and flotilla 
men, under Commodore Barney ; and Cap- 
tain Miller, with five pieces of heavy 
ordnance, and eighteen hundred militia ; 
— forming an aggregate of three thousand 
two hundred men, with seventeen pieces 
of artillery. The general staff consisted 
of the president of the United States, as 
commander-in-chief, the secretaries of 
state, war, and navy, the attorney-general. 




^^''-:^^^.^2AuJ? 



and General Winder. At Bladensburg, 
General Stansbury had arrived from Bal- 
timore, with his brigade of drafted militia ; 
also, the fifth regiment, consisting of the 
elite of the Baltimore city brigade, under 
Colonel Sterrott, a battalion of riflemen 
under Major Pinckney, and Myers's and 
Magruder's companies of artillery, with 
six field-pieces. 

Tlie invading army at Upper Marlbor- 
ough, on the twentj'-third, did not exceed 
four thousand five hundred effective men, 
without cavalry, wagons, or means of 
transportation, and with but throe pieces 
of light artillery, drawn by men. The 
force remained at Upper Marlborough 



until the afternoon of the twenty-third, 
when the}' commenced their march towards 
Washington, by the way of Bladens- 
burg. Colonel Scott and Major Peter, 
with light detachments, were sent out to 
meet and harass the enemy, and General 
Stansbury was ordered to proceed with the 
troops under his command, on the route 
direct to Upper Marlborough. Colonel 
Scott, with his detachment, met the Brit- 
ish about six miles in advance of the main 
body, and, after some skirmishing, 
retreated. The American army at Old 
Fields, were j)laced in a favorable attitude 
of defense; they remained in their position 
until evening, when, apprehending the 
approach of the enemy, they were ordered 
to march to Washington. The British 
encamped that evening three miles in 
front of the position wliich the American 
troops had left. The retreat of the latter 
towards the city was precipitate and dis- 
orderly-, the enemy being supposed to be 
in close pursuit. 

General Winder, on the morning of the 
twenty-fourth, had established his head- 
quarters, with the main body, at the east- 
ern branch bridge. His force here amounted 
to three thousand five hundred men ; Gen- 
eral Stansbury was four miles in front at 
Bladensburg, with twenty-five hundred ; 
Colonel Minor, with seven hundred in 
the city of Washington, — endeavoring to 
get across to the arsenal ; and General 
Young's brigade of five luindred, twelve 
miles below, on the left bank of the 
Potomac. 

Various reports were brought to head- 
quarters, of the movements and intentions 
of the British. The president and heads 
of departments assembled at General 
Winder's in the morning. The secretary 
of state, upon hearing a rumor that the 
British were marching upon the capital by 
the way of Bladensburg, proceeded to join 
General Stansbury, to aid him in forming 
a line of battle. That commander, on the 
approach of the enemy, retired from his 
position in advance of Bladensburg, and 
occupied the ground west of the village, on 
the right bank of the eastern branch. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



245 



Here it was at last resolved to meet the 
enemy, and fight the battle that was to 
decide the fate of the metropolis. 

The best arrangements that time would 
permit were made. About five hundred 
yards from the bridge, the artillery from 
Baltimore, consisting of six six-pounder.s, 
under the command of Captains Myers and 
Magruder, were posted behind a kind of 
breastwork ; and Major Pinckney's rifle- 
men were placed in ambush to the right and 
left, so as to annoy the enemy when 
attempting to cross the stream, and at the 
same time, in conjunction with Captain 
Doughty's company, to support the artil- 
lery. The fifth Baltimore regiment was 
drawn up about fifty yards in the rear, 
but afterwards removed much further. 
The other parts of the brigade were also 
so disposed as to support the artillery, and 
annoy the enemy in his approach. Shortly 
after this disposition was made, Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel Beall arrived with about five 
hundred men from Annapolis, and was 
posted higher up in a wood on the right of 
the road. General Winder having, by 
this time, brought up his main body, had 
formed it in the rear of Stansbury's brig- 
ade, and in a line with Beall's detachment, 
and the heavy artillery under Commodore 
Barney posted to the right on an eminence 
near the road. This line had scarcely 
been formed, when the engagement com- 
menced. This was about twelve o'clock, the 
movement being as follows : 

On the hill which overhangs the stream, 
a column of the British made its appear- 
ance, and moved down towards the bridge, 
throwing rockets, and apparently deter- 
mined to force the passage. He now made 
an attempt to throw a strong body of 
infantry across»the stream, but a few well- 
directed shot from the artillery compelled 
him to shelter himself behind some houses. 
After a considerable pause, a large column 
of the British rapidly advanced in the face 
of the battery, which, although managed 
by skillful and courageous officers, was un- 
able to repress them ; and they continued 
to push forward, until thej' formed a con- 
siderable bod\' on the Washington road. 



These troops had not advanced far, 
when the company under Cajitain Doughty, 
having discharged their pieces, fled, in 
spite of the efforts of their commander and 
of Major Piuckney to rally them. Had 
they known their power, however, they 
would have stood their ground ; for it is 
stated, on the best historical authority, 
that when General Ross, leading on his 
troops, reconnoitered the militia stationed 
on the rising ground, he was alarmed at 
their formidable appearance. But he had 
gone too far to retreat ; the order was 
given to move forward. His alarm was of 
short continuance. A few congreve rock- 
ets put the Maryland militia to flight ; the 
riflemen followed ; the artillery, after firing 
not more than twice, rajiidlj' retreated ; 
then the Baltimore regiment, on which 
some hopes were placed, fled also. 

The British now moved on slowly, until 
they were checked by the marines under 
Barney. Finding it impossible to force 
the position of the marines and sailors in 
front, detachments filed by the right and 
left and passed up ravines. At the head 
of one was stationed the Annapolis regi- 
ment, which, as has already been men- 
tioned, fled at the first fire. At the head 
of the other ravine were placed some reg- 
ulars and militia ; they also showed their 
instinct of self-preservation, by getting 
out of harm's way as soon as j)ossible. 
The sailors and marines, thus deserted, 
and in danger of being surrounded, retired, 
their guns and wounded companions 
falling into the hands of the enemy. 
Owing to the vigoi'ous fire of the marines, 
the British lost a large number of men, — 
nearly a thousand, in killed, wounded, and 
missing ; the loss of the Americans was a 
little rising of two hundred. At the time 
Commodore Barney ordered a retreat, the 
British were in his rear, and he was made 
prisoner. As he lay wounded by the side 
of the fence, he beckoned to a British 
soldier, and directed him to call an offi- 
cer. General Ross himself immediately 
rode up, and, on being informed of Bar- 
ney's rank and situation, caused him to be 
treated with that gallantry which his cliar- 



240 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



acter merited, ordered his wounds to be 
dressed, and paroled him. Barney offered 
his watch, as a gift to the soldier who had 
so obligingly served him, but the English- 
man replied — 

" / can help a brave man without pay." 
Much has been said, by critics and his- 
torians, concerning the course pursued by 
the chief magistrate of the nation, during 




I'RESIDENT MADI30K. 

these occurrences around and within tlie 
metropolis. Before the American troops 
broke (says Ingersoll), while showers of 
rockets were flying where the president 
stood, he was requested by General 
Winder to retire out of their reacli, and 
with his cabinet he withdrew by inglori- 
ous but not ignominious retreat; although 
everything demonstrated tliat a field of 
battle was not Madison's theater of action. 
Wilkinson's account imputes to General 
Armstrong, secretary of war, the assertion 
that the ' little man ' — meaning Mr. Mad- 
ison — said to the veteran whom he would 
not allow to fight, "Come, General Arm- 
strong, come, Colonel Monroe, let us go, 
and leave it to the commanding general;" 
words which may well have been used, 
without involving any imputation of cow- 
ardice against tile utterer. It is extremely 
uncommon for conspicuous men, sur- 
rounded as the president was, to betray 
apprehension, even if they feel it. Arm- 
strong, when the troops fled, gave vent to 
his mortification in strong terms, addressed 
to the president, of disgust at so base and 
cowardly a flight, and no doubt the presi- 



dent, amazed and confounded by the trep- 
idation of the troops, retired, as Colonel 
Monroe his secretary of state did, dis- 
heartened ; General Armstrong indignant ; 
and Mr. Rush, the youngest and only 
hoping one of the administration, ashamed ; 
soon followed by General Winder, demor- 
alized by the whole of the front line van- 
ishing in wild disorder from the conflict. 
During the day, Mr. Madison frequently 
dispatched notes, penciled on horseback, 
to his wife, to keep her informed of its 
vicissitudes. More than Winder feared 
and Armstrong predicted of inexperienced 
troops was realized in the twinkling of an 
e^'e. The victory was won, fully and com- 
pletely, by the British ; and it required 
only to realize in fact, what was now being 
carried out in spirit, the threat of the 
commanding invader, " / will make a cow- 
pasture of these Yankee cajiitol grounds !" 
Among those who exhibited conspicuous 
bravery, as participants in these scenes, 
were Hugh McCulloch and John P. Ken- 
nedy, so prominent in national affairs in 
after years. 

By the issue of this battle, General Ross 
obtained possession of the bridge over the 
eastern branch of the Potomac. After 
halting his army for a short time for 
refreshment, he, with Admiral Cockburn, 
rode slowly into the wilderness city, almost 
every male inhabitant of which was then 
absent, either in arms, or in distant hiding- 
places, — some keeping close in their dwell- 
ings. Many passed the niglit in huts and 
cornfields around the town. The first 
considerable dwelling the enemy was to 
pass had been Mr. Gallatin's residence, 
the house of Mr. Sewall, some hundred 
yards east of the capitol. From behind 
the side wall of that house, as is supposed, 
at all events from or near to it, a solitary 
musket, fired bj- some excited and perhaps 
intoxicated person, believed to be a well- 
known Irish barber, aimed at General 
Ross, killed the bay mare he rode. In 
Ross's official report, no mention is made 
of this affair ; but his naval companion, 
Admiral Cockburn, not only introduces it 
in his account, but exaggerates and falsi- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



247 



fies the incident into what he character- 
izes as " many similar acts of universal 
wanton enormity ; " absurdly calling it a 
heavy fire from the cajjitol, which was 
more than twice gun-shot distant ! The 
house from which this shot came was at 
once burned by the soldiery, and all its 
inmates slain. Other houses also shared 
the same fate, one of these being General 
Washington's house, the unprovoked de- 
struction of which General Ross much 
regretted, on being informed of its owner- 
ship. 

Having arrived on capitol hill. General 
Ross offered terms of capitulation, which 
were, that the city might be ransomed 
for a sum of money nearly equal to the 
value of the public and private property 
it contained, and that, on receiving it, the 
troops should retire to their ships unmo- 
lested. But there being, at the time, 
neither civil nor military authorities at 
Washington, by whom the propositions 
could be received, the work of vandalism 
commenced, — Cockburn being the soul of 
these outrages. It became, at last, a per- 
fect Cossark vusli for spoils. 



To the third brigade, that which was 
least fatigued by fighting, was assigned 
the task of destroying. According to the 
English narrator, who was also the perpe- 
trator of these proceedings, it was a ' sub- 
lime ' scene. The sun set, says this jocund 
barbarian, before the different regiments 
were in a condition to move in the dark. 
Before they quitted their ground, the 
work of destruction had begun in the city. 
The blazing of houses, ships and stores, 
the reports of exploding magazines, and 
the crash of falling roofs, informed them, 
as they proceeded, of what was going for- 
ward. Nothing (says a British writer) 
can be conceived finer than the sight 
which met them as they drew near the 
town : The sky was brilliantly illuminated 
by the different conflagrations ; and a 
dark, red light was thrown upon the road, 
sufficient to permit each man to view dis- 
tinctly his comrade's face. The scene was 
striking and sublime, as the burning of 
St. Sebastian's. The first and second 
brigades advanced into the plain, halted, 
and in close column bivouacked for the 
night. Towards morning, a violent storm 




CAPTURE AKD BURXIXG OF WASHINGTON BY THE BRITISH, IN ISH. 



248 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



of rain, accompanied with thunder and 
lightning, came on, — whose flashes seemed 
to vie in brilliancy with the flames which 
burst from the roofs of burning houses, 
while tlic tlnmdcr drowned the noise of 
crumbling walls, and was only interrupted 
by the occasional roar of cannon, and of 
large depots of gun-powder, as they ex- 
ploded one by one. 

The description thus coldly penned by 
one of the actors in this barbarous drama, 
onlj' falls short of the terrible truth. In 
the American metropolis, then in the fif- 
teenth year, only, of its existence, the 
British found about nine hundred houses, 
scattered in groups over a surface of three 
miles; and two splendid buildings, namel^', 
the capitol, as yet unfinished, and the 
])resident's house, these being among the 
finest specimens of architecture in the 
new world. But, beautiful though they 
were, the torch of the incendiary soon laid 
them in ruins. The great bridge across 
the Potomac was also wantonly burnt. 
The blaze produced by these wholesale 
acts of destruction was seen even in Balti- 
more, forty miles distant. All that was 
combustible about the capitol and the pres- 
idential mansion, including therein all the 
furniture and articles of taste or value, and 
the valuable libraries of the senate and 
liouse of representatives, was reduced to 
ashes; and the walls of these stately 
buildings, blackened with smoke and in 
melancholy demolition, remained, for a 
time, the monuments of British barbarity. 
Gales and Seaton's valuable printing 
establishment was also destroyed. All 
the public buildings, with the exception of 
the patent-office, shared the same fate at 
the hands of the enemy, who also took 
particular pains to mutilate the beautiful 
monument eivcted in honor of the naval 
heroes who fell at Tripoli. 

It is related, that when the detachment 
sent out to destroy the president's house 
entered his dining-parlor, tliey found a 
dinner-table spread, and covers laid for 
forty guests. Several kinds of wine, in 
handsome cut-glass decanters, were cooling 
on the side-board; dishes ami plates, 



knives, forks, and spoons, were arranged 
for immediate use. In short, everything 
was ready for the entertainment of a cere- 
monious party. Such were the arrange- 
ments in the dining-room, while in the 
kitchen were others answerable to them in 
every respect. Spits, loaded with savory 
joints, turned before the fire; pots, sauce- 
pans, and other culinary utensils, stood 
near by ; and all the other requisites for 
an elegant and substantial repast were 
exactly in a state which indicated that 
they had lately and precipitatel3- been 
abandoned. These preparations were be- 
held by a party of hungry British soldiers, 
with no indifferent eye. An elegant din- 
ner, even though considerably over-dressed, 
was a luxurv to which few of them, at least 
for some time back, had been accustomed, 
and which, after the dangers and fatigues 
of the day, appeared peculiarly inviting. 
They sat down to it, therefore, not indeed 
in the most orderly manner, but with 
countenances wliich would scarcely have 
belied a party of aldermen at a civic feast ; 
and, having satisfied their ap])etites with 
fewer comjilaints than would have proba- 
bly escaped their rival gourmands afore- 
said, and partaken pretty freely of the 
presidential wines, thej- finished with the 
incendiary's torch, and with such a carni- 
val of violence and plunder as would dis- 
grace even the Thugs of India. 

Mrs. Madison states that General Ross 
sent a message, offering her an escort to 
whatever place of safety she might choose. 
"I make no war," Ross pretentiously 
remarked, " on letters or ladies, and I. have 
heard so much in praise of Mrs. Madison, 
that I would rather ])rotect than burn a 
house which sheltered so excellent a lady." 
She, however, had seasonably absented 
herself, taking with her such valuables, in 
the shape of plate, portraits, and ward- 
robe, as she could hastily collect and have 
placed in a wagon. One of the articles 
which Mrs. Madi.-^on insisted on saving, 
before leaving, was a large picture of (ien- 
eral Washington by Stuart; it was, how- 
ever, screwed to the wall, and the frame 
had therefore to be broken and the canvas 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



249 



detached therefrom, Mrs. Madison stand- 
ing near by, with a carving knife in her 
hand, ready with her assistance. She 
succeeded, with the aid of Mr. Jacob 
Barker, in her purpose, and escaped to a 
tavern some sixteen miles from the citj-, 
Mr. Madison joining lier, secretly, in the 
evening. Ross remained in his camp 
during the night. Cockburn, it is said, 
passed the same time, in beastly degra- 
dation, at a brothel. 

The British having accomplished the 
object of their visit, passed through Bla- 
densburg, on the route to Benedict. They 
left their dead unburied ; such of their 
wounded as could ride, were placed on 
horseback, others in carts and wagons, 
and a considerable number were left 
behind. The wounded British jirisoners 
were intrusted to the humanity of Com- 
modore Barney, who provided everything 
for their comfort; and such as recovered 
were exchanged, and returned to the Brit- 
ish. The retreat of the invaders, though 
unmolested, was precipitate, and conducted 
under evident apprehension of an attack. 
They took Alexandria on the thirtieth of 
August. On the twelfth of September 
they marched upon Baltimore, but were 
repulsed, General Boss losing his life in 
the preliminary engagement. It was amid 
the excitement of this movement on the 
part of the foe, especiallj' their bombard- 
ment of Fort McHenry, that Francis Key, 
who was on the spot at the time, composed 
that popular song, " The Star Spangled 
Banner." 



On account of Washington being the 
seat of government of the American repub- 
lic, its capture occasioned great eclat on 
the part of the British, and much chagrin 
and indignation throughout the United 
States — indeed, the whole civilized world 
exclaimed against the act, as a violation of 
the rules of modern warfare. The capitals 
of most of the European kingdoms had 
lately been in the power of an enemy ; but 
in no instance had the conqueror been 
guilty of similar conduct. In this case, 
too, the outrages were committed while a 
treatj' of peace was actually pending ! The 
success of the Americans in the battles of 
Chippewa and Bridgewater, had, doubtless, 
greatly exasperated the haughty Britons, 
and led them to this act. 

So overwhelming was the effect upon 
the people of the United States, of the 
wanton burning and jilunder of their cap- 
ital, that party sp)irit instantly vanished, 
and with it the dissensions which had 
almost paralj-zed the government. A 
nation of freemen was seen to rise in its 
strength. Multitudes who had at first 
ojjposed the war on the ground of its impol- 
icy, or who had condemned the invasion of 
Canada, now viewed Great Britain only as 
a powerful nation, precijsitating her armies 
on the country, with the simple intention 
of sating her vengeance by desolating its 
fairest portions. The whole country' was in 
motion ; every town was a camp ; all consid- 
erations were merged into one, paramount 
above all others, namely, the defense of 
the country against a barbarous foe. 



XXVI. 

MCDONOUGH'S NAVAL VICTORY ON LAKE CHAM- 
PLAIN.— 1814. 



The Projected British Invasion of the Nortliern States, by Land and Water, Frustrated by an Over- 
whelming Blow on Their Favorite Element. — Most Unexpected and Mortifying Hesult to the Enemy's 
Pride. — Not One of the Seventeen British Ensigns Visible Two Hours After the Opening of the 
Action by Downie. — McDonough's Laconic Message. — British Advance on New York. — Grand 
Scheme of Conquest. — Picked Men Employed. — Great Land and Naval Force. — Their Fleet on Lake 
Cliamplain. — Downie, a Brave Officer, Commands. — Flushed Confidence of Victory. — Pleasure Par- 
ties to " See the Fight." — Pluck of Commodore McDonough. — His Prayer on the Eve of Battle — 
Strange and Beautiful Omen. — Its Inspiriting Effect on the Men. — McDonough Sights the First Gun. 
— The Flagships in Close Grapple. — Their Aspect like a Sheet of Fire. — Tremendous Cannonade — 
The Two Fleets in Full Action. — Desperate Situation of Both. — McDonough's Extraordinary Resort. 
— Downie Completely Circumvented. — At the Mercy of the Americans. — No English Flag on the 
Lakes. 



"The Almighty hu beeD pieued to grant US a aigaal victorj on Lake Chatnptaln."— COUHODORI MoDoMODOB TO tub Sicbitabt 
or TUB N*vr. 





REATLY to the joy of the Amer- 
icans, and deeply to the chagrin 
of their boastful enemy, the i)ro- 
jected invasion of the northern 
part of the United States, planned with such 
apparent sagacity and witli the most prodi- 
i;al outlay of resources by the British gov- 
rrnment, for the fall campaign of 1814, met 
with the most signal defeat. This scheme 
of conquest, so grandly organized and con- 
fidently counted upon, covered nothing less 
than the subjugation of the state of New 
York and the several states of New 
England, by a combined movement of the 
English land and naval forces. The Ameri- 
cans, confiding in the bravery of those with 
whom they had intrusted the honor of their 
flag on the ocean — Stewart, Perry, McDon- 
jACK's oFFERiNu TO MLS C.H .NTKv. '""gh, CliauHcey, Allcu, Warriugtou, Henley, 

AVoolsey, Blakele3', Cassin, and others, — did not shrink from the threatened conflict. 
The important post of Plattsburg, on Lake Cliamplain, being, for the time, in a 
comparatively defenseless state, the British determined to initiate their movement 



GKEAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



251 



by an attack upon that place by land, and, 
at the same time, to attempt the destruc- 
tion of the American flotilla concentrated 
on the lake. 

Accordingly, on the third of September, 
Sir George Prevost, the governor-general 
of Canada, at the head of some fourteen 
thousand men — most of them veterans 
who had served under Wellington in his 
recent victorious campaigns against Napo- 
leon — entered the territories of the United 
States. On the sixth they arrived at 
Plattsburg. It is situated near the lake, 
on the northern bank of the small river 
Saranac. On their approach, the Ameri- 
can troops, who were posted on the oppo- 
site bank, tore up the planks of the 
bridges, with which they formed slight 
breastworks, and prepared to dispute the 
passage of the stream. The British 
employed themselves for several daj-s in 
erecting batteries, while the American 
forces were daily augmented by the 
arrival of volunteers and militia. Early 
in the morning of the eleventh, the Brit- 
ish squadron, commanded by Commodore 
Downie, appeared off the harbor of Platts- 
burg, where that of the United States, 
commanded by Commodore McDonough, 
lay at anchor prepared for battle. Downie, 
an ofiicer of high distinction, coveted this 
combat upon Britain's favorite element, 
not doubting for a moment that he should 
cover himself with glory, by the speedy 
capture or annihilation of the Yankee fleet. 
He little knew the pluck of McDonough, 
— a striking illustration of whose charac- 
ter may here be related : 

In 1806, McDonough was lieutenant of 
a United States vessel, the Siren, then 
cruising in the Mediterranean, under 
the command of Captain Smith. One 
forenoon, during the absence of Captain 
Smith on shore, a merchant brig, under 
the colors of the United States, came into 
port, and anchored ahead and close to the 
Siren. Soon after, a boat was sent from 
a British frigate then lying in the harbor, 
and the crew boarded this merchantman. 
After remaining alongside a little while, 
the boat returned, ivith one inore man than 



she went ivith ! This circumstance 
attracted the notice of McDonough, who 
sent Lieutenant Page on board the brig, 
to know the particulars of the affair. Page 
returned with information that the man 
had been impressed by the boat that came 
from the British frigate, although he had 
a protection as an American citizen. 
McDonough's blood was up ! In a twink- 
ling, he ordered the Siren's gig to be 




COMMODORE MCDONOCQH. 



manned, and putting himseK in her, went 
in pursuit of the boat, determined to 
rescue his countryman. He overtook her 
alongside the British frigate, just as the 
man at the bow was raising his boat-hook 
to reach the ship, and took out the Amer- 
ican by force, — although the British boat 
had eight oars, and his only four, — and 
carried him on board the Siren. When 
the report of this affair was borne to the 
captain of the British frigate, he put off, 
in a rage, for the Siren, determined to 
know how McDonough had dared to take 
a man from one of his majesty's boats. 
Politely greeting him, McDonough reso- 
lutely said — 

" The man is an American seaman, and 
under the protection of the flag of the 
United States, and it is my duty to protect 
him." 

" By ! I don't care for your Amer- 
ican flag ! If you don't give up the man, 
I'll bring my frigate alongside, and blow 
you to the devil ! " replied the Britisher. 

" That you may do ; but, as long as my 
vessel swims, I shall keep the man," 
calmly responded McDonough. 



252 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



" You are a very young man, and will 
repent of this indiscretion. If I had been 
in the boat, you would not dared to have 
taken the man, I'm if you \vould ! " 

" I would fi 'ire taken the man, or lost 
my life" said McDonougli. 

"Wliat, sir! would you attempt to stop 
me, if I \vere now to undertake to impress 
men from that brig ? " inquired the Brit- 
ish captain, scornfully. 

"I would; and, if you wish to be con- 
vinced, you have only to make a com- 
mencement." 

Enraged at this, the Englishman 
returned to his ship, and shortly after- 
wards \yas seen making in the direction of 
the American merchantman. McDonough 
thereupon ordered his boat manned and 
armed, and got in her himself, all in read- 
iness for pursuit. The Englishman, seeing 
the turn things were likely to take, and 
deeming discretion to be the better part of 
valor, contented himself with taking a cir- 
cuit round the American brig, and return- 
ing again to the frigate. Thus the affair 
ended. 

It was with this cool, intrepid, and res- 
olute master of himself and of the situa- 
tion, thatDownie, flushed with expectations 
of a speedy and easj' victory, was soon to 
deal, and bj' whom, as the sequel showed, 
he was doomed to overwhelming defeat, on 
the waters of that vast lake where his 
squadron now floated in proud defiance. 
Indeed, such was the assurance of ability 
in the mind of Downie, to scatter the 
Americans to the four \vinds, that a Brit- 
ish barge, filled with amateur spectators, 
accomi)anied the other vessels, which 
misled McDonough to suppose that there 
were thirteen barges in force, when in 
reality there were but twelve, — the thir- 
teenth being filled with idlers, who came 
not to bear the brunt of battle, but to 
enjoy the excursion, and witness and share 
the expected victory. 

On Sunday morning, Seiitcmbcr 11, 
1814, it being the fifth day of the siege, 
the motives which induced the Uritisli 
general to delay, hitlierto, his final assault 
upon the American works, became appar- 



ent. Relying on his ability to carry them, 
however they might be strengthened and 
fortified, he had awaited the arrival of the 
British fleet, in the belief that, with its 
co-oi)eration, an easy conquest could be 
made not onl^' of the American army, but 
also of the American fleet. On this daj-, 
therefore, the British fleet, consisting of 
the frigate Confiance, carrying thirty-nine 
guns, twenty-seven of which were twenty- 
four pounders ; the brig Linnet, of sixteen 
guns ; the sloops Chub and Finch, each 
carrying eleven guns ; and a large number 
of gallcj's, each carrj'ing one or two guns; 
was seen coming round Cumberland, where 
the American fleet lay at anchor. 

The American fleet comprised the ship 
Saratoga, carrying twenty-six guns, eight 
of which were long twent^'-four pounders ; 
the brig Eagle, of twenty guns; the 
schooner Ticonderoga, of seventeen guns ; 
the sloop Preble, seven guns ; and ten 
gallej's, six carrying two guns each, and 
the remainder one gun ajiiece. 

Besides the advantage which the enemj' 
possessed in being able to choose their 
position, their force \vas much superior. 
The number of guns, all told, in the Brit- 
ish fleet, amounted to ninety-five, and of 
men, to upwards of a thousand ; while the 
Americans had only eight3'-six guns, and 
eight hundred and twenty men. One of 
tlie American vessels had been built with 
almost incredible dispatch ; eighteen daj-s 
before, the trees of which it was con- 
structed were actually growing on the 
shores of the lake. 

The American vessels were moored in 
line, with live gun-boats or galleys on each 
flank. At eight o'clock, the look-out boat 
announced the approach of the British, 
and at nine, imuicdiately on getting round 
Cumberland Head, Downie anchored in 
line abreast of the American force, at 
about three hundred yards distance, and 
gave tokens of battle. The j'outhful 
McDonough awaited all these movements 
with perfect calmness and order. Indeed, 
true to his manly character and to his 
trained habits of observing the Sabbath 
and trusting to divine hel]) in human 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



253 



affairs, he knelt down iu, the presence of 
his men, and solemnly offered up the fol- 
lowing prayer of the Episcopal service 
appointed to be read before a fight at sea 
against an enemy: ' most powerful and 
glorious Lord God, the Lord of hosts, that 
rulest and commandest all things; Thou 
sittest in the throne judging right, and 
therefore we make our address to thy 
Divine Majesty in this our necessity, that 
thou wouldest take the cause into thine 
own hand, and judge between us and our 
enemies. Stir up thy strength, Lord, 
and come and help us ; for thou givest not 
alway the battle to the strong, but canst 
save by many or by few. let not our 
sins now cry against us for vengeance ; 
but hear us thy poor servants begging 
mercy and imploring help, and that thou 
wouldest be a defense unto us against the 
face of the enemy. Make it appear that 
thou art our Saviour and mighty Deliv- 
erer, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
Amen.' The offering up of this invocation 
to the God of battles, on the eve of that 
terrible conflict, was a most unusual occur- 
rence, eminently worthy the just cause in 
whose behalf McDonough was about to 
strike so decisive a blow. It is also related 
that, at the very moment of McDonough's 
ordering his vessels cleared and jjrepared 
for action — a moment when modern seamen, 
like old Romans, are extremely alive to 
signs, which the superstition natural to 
sensitive and imaginative persons converts 
into auspicious or ill-boding occurrences, 
— a cheerful indication animated the Sara- 
toga, such as Caesar or Napoleon would 
have proclaimed to his soldiers with 
delight, and they would have hailed with 
enthusiasm. A cock flew upon a gun- 
slide, clai^ped his ivings, and crov;ed, — a 
signal of defiance and victory which broke 
the silence of anxious expectation preced- 
ing the battle, being received with exult- 
ant cheers by the seamen. 

In the line of battle, the Confiance, 
Downie's own vessel, was opposed to the 
Saratoga, commanded by McDonough ; 
the Linnet to the Eagle; the British 
galleys and one of their sloops to the 



Ticonderoga, the Preble, and the left divi- 
sion of the American galleys ; their other 
sloop was opposed to the galleys on the 
right. To complete his arrangements for 
the action, McDonough directed two of 
his galleys to keep in shore of the Eagle, 
and a little to windward of her, to sustain 
the head of the line ; one or two more to 
lie opposite to the interval between the 
Eagle and the Saratoga ; a few opposite 
to the interval between the Saratoga and 
Ticonderoga ; and two or three opposite 
the interval between the Ticonderoga 
and the Preble. The rear of the line 
appears not to have been covered according 
to this plan. 

In this position, the weather being per' 
fectly clear and calm, and the bay smooth, 
the whole force on both sides became 
engaged in the work of blood ; and at the 
same moment, as if the firing from the 
first gun from the Confiance had been the 
signal, the land conflict commenced 
between the Americans, under General 
Macomb, and the British, under Sir George 
Prevost. The latter opened a heavy fir* 
of shot, shells, and rockets, upon the Amer' 
ican lines, and this was continued with 
little interruption until sunset, and 
returned with spirit and effect. At six 
o'clock, the firing on the part of the Brit- 
ish ceased, every battery having been 
silenced by the American artillery. At 
the commencement of the bombarding, 
and while the ships were engaged, three 
desperate efforts were made by the British 
to pass the Saranac, for the purpose of 
carrying the American works by storm, or 
assault. With this view, scaling ladders, 
fascines, and every implement necessary 
for the purpose, were prepared. One 
attempt was made to cross at the village 
bridge, one at the upper bridge, and one 
at the ford way, three miles above the 
works. At each point, they were met at 
the bank by the American troops and 
repulsed. 

But the fate of the day's conflict, in 
which the two great competitors for mili- 
tary superiority were now so earnestly 
engaged on the land and on the sea. 



254 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




HODONODOH'S VICTORY ON LAKE THJIMPLAIN. 



depended chiefly on the res\ilt of the naval 
encounter, and this latter mainly on the 
result of the sanguinary hattle between 
the two largest ships — the Confiance and 
the Saratoga, under the direction, respec- 
tively, of Downie and McDonough, the 
commanders of the fleets. 

As the British came nearer, tlie hrig 
Eagle, at the head of the American line, 
opened fire suddenly with a broadside from 
her four long-guns, l)ut with little effect, 
on account of the distance. McDonough, 
however, — according to Cooper's narrative, 
— did not give tlio order to commence, 
although the enemy's galleys now opened, 
for it was apparent that the Eagle's fire 
was useless. As soon, however, as it was 
seen that her shot told, McDonough him- 
self, sighted a long twenty-four, and the 
gun was fired. This shot is said to have 
struck the Confiance near the outer hawse- 
liole, and to have passed the length of her 
deck, killing and wounding several men, 
and carrying away the wheel. It was a 
signal for all the American long-guns to 
open, and it was soon seen that the Amer- 



ican commanding ship was causing her 
special antagonist, the Confiance, to suffer 
heavily. Still the enemy advanced stead- 
ily, and in the most gallant manner, con- 
fident if lie could get the desired position 
with his vessels, that the great weight of 
the Confiance would at once decide the 
fortunes of the day. But he had miscal- 
culated his own powers of endurance, and 
not imjirohably those of annoyance pos- 
sessed by the enemy on the other side, 
under the gallant McDonough. The 
anchors of the Confiance were hanging by 
the stoppers, in readiness to let go, and 
the larboard bower was soon cut away, as 
well as a spare anchor in the larboard 
forechains. In short, after bearing the 
fire of the American vessels as long as 
possible, and the wind beginning to baflfle, 
Downie found himself reduced to the 
necessity of anchoring while still at the 
distance of about a quarter of a mile from 
the American line. The lulin was put 
a-port, the ship shot into the wind, and a 
kedge was let go, while the vessel took a 
sheer, and brought up with her starboard 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



255 



bower. In doing the latter, however, the 
kedge was fouled and became of no use. 
In coming to, her halyards were let run, 
and she hauled u^j her courses. At this 
time, the Linnet and Chubb were still 
standing in, farther to windward, and the 
former, as her guns bore, fired a broadside 
at the Saratoga. The Linnet soon after 
anchored, somewhat nearer the Confiance, 
getting a very favorable position forward 
of the Eagle's beam. The Chubb kept 
under way, intending, if possible, to rake 
the American line. The Finch got 
abreast of the Ticonderoga, under her 
sweeps, supported by the gun-boats. All 
the English vessels came to in very hand- 
some style, nor did the. Confiance fire a 
single gun until secured. As soon as 
Downie had performed this duty, in a 
seaman-like manner, his ship appeared a 
sheet of fire, discharging all her guns at 
nearly the same instant, pointed princi- 
pally at the Saratoga. The effect of this 
broadside thrown from sixteen long 
twentj'-fours, double-shotted, in perfectly 
smooth water, with guns leveled to 
point-blank range, and coolly sighted, 
was terrible upon the ship that received 
it, killing or wounding one-fifth of 
her men, including her only lieutenant. 
Gamble. 

But, notwithstanding the greater weight 
of the enemy's battery seemed to be inclin- 
ing the scale of victory in his favor, he 
suffered prodigiously. The chances, too, 
against the Saratoga, were accidentally 
increased by the commander of the Eagle, 
who, being unable to bring his guns to 
bear as he wished, cut his cable, and, 
anchoring between the Saratoga and 
Ticonderoga, exposed the former vessel to 
a galling fire from the British brig Linnet. 
The cannonade from all the vessels was 
now incessant and destructive, dismount- 
ing guns, disabling crews and masts, and 
on both sides extremely devastating ; every 
gun on the side of the Saratoga facing the 
enemy, was rendered useless, nor was the 
situation of the English such as to inspire 
them with any flattering prospect of escap- 
ing annihilation. 



Things had so culminated that, in respect 
to each of the combatants, the fortunes of 
the contest now depended upon the execu- 
tion of one of the most difficult naval ma- 
neuvers, that of winding the vessel round, 
and bringing a new broadside to bear ! 

This feat the Confiance essayed in vain. 
The invincible commander and crew of the 
Saratoga saw, at once, that the only 
chance now left was a resort to some 
extraordinary expedient to meet the immi- 
nent emergency. Three times McDonough 
had been prostrated, by falling spars, 
senseless on the deck of his ship — fought 
almost to the water's edge, and incapable 
of further effort. It was at this critical 
moment, that an old seaman, named Brum, 
suggested the contrivance, by means of an 
anchor, — a stern anchor being put on, and 
the bower cable cut, — to turn the ship 
round, so as to bring into action the side 
remaining uninjured. Under this arrange- 
ment, the gallant ship rounded to, and 
presented a fresh broadside to the enemy. 
This was attended with such destructive 
effect, that the Confiance was obliged to 
surrender in a few minutes. 

No sooner had the Confiance surrendered, 
than the whole broadside of the Saratoga 
was brought to bear upon the Linnet, 
which struck its flag fifteen minutes after- 
wards. The sloop which was opposed to 
the Eagle, had struck some time before, and 
drifted down the line. The sloop that was 
with their galleys had also struck. Three 
of their galleys were also sunk, and the 
others pulled off. McDonough's galleys 
were about obeying with alacritj'the signal 
to pursue them, when rejioi-t was made of 
all of them being in a sinking state ; it 
consequently became necessary to annul 
the signal to the gallej'S, and order their 
men to the pumps. McDonough states 
that he could only look at the enemy's 
vessels going off in a shattered condition, 
for there was not a mast in either squadron 
that could stand to make sail on, for anj^ 
purpose whatsoever. The lower rigging, 
being nearly shot away, was hanging down 
as loosely and uselessly as though it had 
just been placed over the mast-heads. 



256 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



The Saratoga received fifty-five round 
shot in hiT hull, and the Confiance one 
hundred and five. The aitiou lasted with- 
out any cessation, on a smooth sea, at 
close quarters, two liours and twenty min- 
utes. In the American s(iuadron, fifty-two 
were killed, and fifty-eight wounded. In 
the British, eighty-four were killed, and 
one hundred and ten wounded. Among 
the slain was Downie, the British com- 
mandant. This engagement was in full 
view of both armies, and of throngs of 
spectators collected on the heights, hordor- 
ing on the bay, to witness the momentous 
scene. It was viewed by the inhabitants 
with trembling anxiety, as success on the 
part of the Britisii would have opened to 



them an easy passage into the heart of the 
country. When, therefore, the flag of the 
Confiance was struck, the shores resounded 
with the deafening acclamations of the 
troops and citizens. Tlie British, when 
they saw their fleet succumbing, were 
terror-stricken. Not one of the numerous 
British ensigns so gaily streaming at eight 
o'clock was visible soon after ten. British 
offensive operations in that vast region 
were now stopped. McDonough received 
the grateful applause of his countrymen ; 
congress conferred its highest commemor- 
ative honors ; and the legislature of Ver- 
mont presented him with a magnificent 
estate on Cumberla?id Head, overlooking 
the very scene of his splendid victory. 



XXYII. 

GENERAL JACKSON'S TERRIBLE ROUT AND SLAUGHTER 
OF THE BRITISH ARMY AT NEW ORLEANS.— 1815. 



His Consummate Generalship in the Order and Conduct of this Campaign. — The War with England 
Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to the American Arms. — Jackson is Hailed as One 
of the Greatest of Modern Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior of His Country. — 
National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle. — British Invasion of Louisiana. — Prepar- 
ations to Resist Them. — Jackson Hastens to New Orleans. — His Presence Inspires Confidence. — 
Martial Law Proclaimed. — Progress of the British Forces. — They Rendezvous at Ship Island. — 
Pirates and Indians for Allies. — Capture of the United States Flotilla. — Arrival of Veterans from 
England. — Desperate Attempts at Storming. — Both Armies Face Each Other. — The Day of Action, 
January Eighth. — General Pakenham Leads the Charge. — His Motto, " Booty and Beauty." — Fire 
and Death Open Upon Them. — They are Mown Down Like Grass. — Pakenham Falls at the Onset. 
— Panic and Precipitate Retreat. — America's Motto, " Victory or Death." — The Result at Home and 
Abroad. — Startling and Impressive Effect. 



** The redcoats will find out whom they have to deal with. 1 wiU smash them, so help me God 1" 

XUE DEFENSE OF NEW OBLEANS. 



-Geneeal Jackson, on assuming 





AMERICAN DEFENSES AT NEW <'I:I,EANS. 




T is a fact fruitful of the most suggestive reflections, 
that, had the facilities of communication by steam 
and electricity been enjoyed in 1815, as they are at 
the present time, the battle of New Orleans, and 
the blood which flowed so freely on that memorable 
occasion, would have been spared ; for, only two 
weeks previous to the sanguinary conflict, namely, on the 24th 
of December, 1814, the treaty of peace between the United 
States and Great Britain was signed at Ghent, by the ap- 
pointed commissioners, — a most joyous event to all, but the 
tidings of which did not, unfortunately, reach the contending 
armies in Louisiana, until several weeks after the battle took 
place. Nevertheless, perhaps no other battle in American 
f^-y^- annals, up to that period, had given such prestige to the valor 
of American arms, nor can any estimate be made of the 



258 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



immense consequences of that victory to 
General Jackson and Lis conntr}'. Mr. 
Bancroft, the historian, says that the 
heroes of antiquity would have contem- 
plated with awe the unmatched hardihood 
of Jackson's character. 

The circumstances which led to a battle 
so creditable in its result to the genius 
and bravery of the American armj' were 
as follows : On the twenty-fifth of August, 
1814, a British army landed at I'ensacola, 
and took forcible possession of the place, 
being aided by the Spaniards in all their 
proceedings ; they collected all the Indians 
that would resort to their standard; and 
Colonel Nichols, the chief British com- 
mander, even sent an oflBcer to the notori- 
ous piratical establishment at Barataria 
to enlist the chief, Lalitte, and his follow- 
ers, in their cause, the most liberal and 
tempting inducements being held out. 
These people, however, showed a decided 
preference for the American cause, and, 
deceiving the English by delay, convej-ed 
intelligence of their designs to the gov- 
ernor of New Orleans, and frankly offered 
their services to defend the country. Dis- 
appointed in securing their aid, the expe- 
dition proceeded to the attack of Fort 
Bowyer, on Mobile point, commanded by 
Major Lawrence. The result, however, 
was a loss to the besiegers of more than 
two hundred men ; the commodore's ship 
was so disabled that they set fire to her, 
and she blew up, and the remaining three 
vessels, shattered and tilled with wounded 
men, returned to Pensacola. While the 
British were thus sheltered in this place, 
busily oi'cupied in bringing over the Indi- 
ans to join them, General Jackson, — who, 
after the peace with the Creeks had become 
active conuiiander at the south, — formed 
an expedition of about foxir thousand men, 
to dislodge them. He summoned the 
town, was refused entrance by the Sj)anish 
governor, and his flag of truce was fired 
upon ; the British soldiers being also in 
the forts, where their flag had been 
hoisted, in conjunction with the Spanish, 
the day before the American forces 
ajjpeared. Preparations were immediately 



made to carry the place ; one battery 
having been taken by storm, with slight 
loss on either side, the governor surren- 
dered, the English having previously 
retired on board their ships. The forts 
below, which commanded the passage, 
were blown up, and this enabled the 
English tleet to put to sea. 

Returning to Mobile, General Jackson 
learned that prejtarations were making by 
the British for the invasion of Louisiana, 
and with especial reference to an attack 
on New Orleans. 

He accordingly hastened to New Orleans, 
which he found in great alarm and confu- 
sion. He at once put in ojjeration the 
most rigorous measures of defense. The 
militia of Louisiana and Mississipjii were 
ordered out en masse, and large detach- 
ments from Tennessee and Kentucky. 
From a previous correspondence with Gov- 
ernor Claiborne, General Jackson had been 
informed tliat the city corps had, for the 
most part, refused obedience to the orders 
which had been given them to turn out ; 
that tliey had been encouraged in their dis- 
obedience by the state legislature, then in 
session in the city ; and that, although 
there were many faitliful citizens in the 
place, there were uumy others who were 
more devoted to the interests of S])ain, and 
others still whose hostility to the English 
was less observable than their dislike to 
American government. 

Under these circumstances, and finding 
that the statements relative to the disaf- 
fection of the populace were fully confirmed, 
Jackson, on consultation with the gover- 
nor, in conjunction with Ju<lge Hall, and 
many influential persons of the city, on 
the sixteenth of December, issued an 
order, declaring the city and environs of 
New Orleans to be under strict martial 
law. 

Nor were the military modes and plans 
adopted by General Jackson, outside of 
the cit}' proper, wanting in efiiciency. 
Fort St. Philip, which guarded the passage 
of the river at the detour la Plaqueniine, 
was strengthened and placed under the 
command of Major Overton, an able and 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



259 



skillful engineer. A site was also selected 
for works of defense, four miles below the 
city, where its destinies were ultimately to 
he determined. The right rested on the 
river, and the left was flanked by an 
impenetrable cypress swamp, which ex- 
tended eastward to Lake Poutchartrain, 
and westward to within a mile of the river. 
Between the swamp and the river was a 
large ditch or artificial bayou which had 
been made for agricultural objects, but 
which now served an important military 
purpose. On the northern bank of this 
ditch, the entrenchments were thrown up, 
and large quantities of cotton-bales so 
arranged, that the troops could be 
effectually protected from the fire of the 
British. Each flank was secured by an 
advance bastion, and the latter protected 
by batteries in the rear. These works 
were well mounted with artillery. Oppo- 
site this position, on the west bank of the 
river, on a rising ground. General Morgan, 
with the city and drafted militia, was sta- 
tioned ; and Commodore Patterson, with 
the crews of the Caroline and Louisiana, 
and the guns of the latter, formed another, 
near General Morgan's ; both of which 
entirelj' enfiladed the aj)proach of an 
enemy against the principal works. A 
detachment was stationed above the town, 
to guard the pass of the bayou St. John, 
if an attempt should be made from that 
quarter. 

On the twenty-second of December, the 
enemy proceeded from their rendezvous on 
Ship island, with all their boats and small 
craft capable of navigating the lake to the 
bayou Bienvenue, and having surprised 
and captured the videttes at the mouth of 
the bayou, the first division accomplished 
their landing unobserved. Major-General 
Villery, of the New Orleans militia, living 
on the bayou, to whom the important 
service of making the first attack, and 
giving notice of the enemy's approach was 
intrusted, found them on his own jjlanta- 
tion, nine miles below the city, without 
any previous knowledge of their approach. 

The morning of New Year's daj', 1815, 
was very dark and foggy amid the swamps 



and bogs of New Orleans, and the day was 
somewhat advanced before the Americans 
discerned how near the enemy had ap- 
proached to them, or the novel use which 
had been made of their molasses and sugar 
hogsheads. In the course of the day, 
under cover of these batteries, three 
unsuccessful attempts were made to storm 
the American works. By four in the 
afternoon, all the enemy's batteries were 
silenced, and the next night found them 
in their former position. 

On the fourth of January, General 
Adair arrived, with four thousand Ken- 
tucky militia, principally without arms. 
The muskets and munitions of war, des- 
tined for the supply of this corps, were 
provided at Pittsburg, but did not leave 
that place until the twenty-fifth of Decem- 
ber, and arrived at New Orleans not until 
several days after the decisive battle of 
Januarj- eighth. On the sixth, the enemy 
received their last re-enforcement of three 
thousand men from England, under Major- 
General Lambert. But before the final 
assault on the American lines, the British 
general deemed it necessary to dislodge 
General Morgan and Commodore Patter- 
son, from their positions on the right 
bank. These j)osts so effectually enfiladed 
the approach to General Jackson's works, 
that the army advancing to the assault, 
must be exposed to the most imminent 
hazard. To accomplish this object, boats 
were to be transported across the island 
from lake Borgne to the Mississipjii ; for 
this purpose the British had been labori- 
ously employed in deepening and widening 
the canal or bayou Bienvenue, on which 
they first disembarked. On the seventh, 
they succeeded in opening the embank- 
ment on the river, and completing a com- 
munication from the lake to the Missis- 
sippi. In pushing the boats through, it 
was found, at some places, that the canal 
was not of sufficient width, and at others 
the banks fell in and choked the passage, 
thus occasioning great delaj' ; at length, 
however, they succeeded in hauling through 
a sufficient number to transport five hun- 
dred troojas to the right bank. 



260 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



On the left bank, where General Jack- 
son in person commanded, everything was 
in readiness to meet tlie assault when it 
should be made. The redoubt on the 
levee was defended by a company under 
Lieutenant Ross. The regular troops 
occupied that part of the entrenchment 
ne.xt to the river. General Carroll's divi- 
sion was in the center, supported by Gen- 
eral Adair's Kentucky troops ; while the 
extreme left, extending for a considerable 
distance into the swamp, was protected by 
the brig.ide of Gener.al Coffee. How soon 
the onset should take place, was uncertain ; 
at what moment rested with the enemy, — 
with the Americans, to be in readiness for 



pace with the zeal and preparation of the 
enemy. He seldom slept ; he was always 
at his post, performing the duties of both 
general and soldier. His sentinels were 
doubled, and extended as far as possible in 
the direction of the British camp ; while a 
considerable portion of the troops were 
constantly at the line, with arms in their 
hands, ready to act, when the first alarm 
should be given. For eight days did the 
two armies remain thus upon the same 
field, in battle array and in view of each 
other, without anything decisive on either 
side being effected. Twice, since their 
landing, had the British columns essayed 
to effect by storm the execution of their 



Q^J^^-^-^^<>^(^i^,^ 



resistance. There were many circum- 
stances, however, favoring the belief that 
the hour of contest was fast approachinr; : 
the unusual bustle, — the efforts of the 
enemy to carry their boats into the river, 
— the fascines and scaling-ladders that 
were preparing; all these circumstances 
indicated the hour of attack to be near at 
hand. General J.ickson was not only 
unmoved by these appearances, but, accord- 
ing to General Eaton's statements, he 
anxiously desired a contest, which, he 
believed, would give a triumph to his 
arms, and terminate the hardships of his 
soldiers. Unremitting in exertion, and 
constantly vigilant, his precaution kept 




plans, and twice had failed and retired 
from the contest. 

The eighth of Ju»Har>i, 1815, at length 
arrived. The day dawned ; and the sig- 
nals, intended to produce concept in the 
enemy's movements, were descried. On 
the left, near the swamp, a skjM'ocket was 
perceived rising in the air; and presently 
another ascended from the right, next the 
river. They were intended to announce 
that all was prepared and ready, to proceed 
and carry by storm a defense which again 
and again had foiled their utmost efforts. 
Instantlj' the charge was made, and with 
such r.apidity, that the American soldiers 
at the outposts with difficulty fled in. 



GREAT AND HIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



261 



The British batteries, which had been 
demolished on the first of the month, had 
been re-established during the preceding 
night, and heavy i^ieces of cannon mounted, 
to aid in their intended operations. These 
now opened, and showers of bombs and 
balls were poured upon our line, while the 
air was lighted with their congreve rock- 
ets. The two divisions, commanded by 
Sir Edward Pakenham in person, and 
supported by Generals Keane and Gibbs, 
pressed forward ; the right against the 
center of General Carroll's command, — 
the left against our redoubt on the levee. 
A thick fog, that obscured the morning, 
enabled them to approach within a short 
distance of our entrenchment, before they 
were discovered. They were now perceived 
advancing, with firm, quick, and steady 
pace, in column, with a front of sixty or 
seventy deep. The American troops, who 
had for some time been in readiness, and 
waiting their appearance, gave three deaf- 
ening cheers, and instantly the whole line 
was lighted with the blaze of their fire. 
A burst of artillery and small-arms, pour- 
ing with destructive aim upon them, 
mowed down their front, and arrested their 
advance. It was a perfect sheet of fire 
and death ! 

The havoc and horror before them — the 
terrible carnage which swept down their 
advancing ranks, — became at last too 
great to be withstood, and already were 
the British troops seen wavering in their 
determination, and receding from the con- 
flict. At this moment. Sir Edward Paken- 
ham, the distinguished commander-in-chief 
of the British forces, hastening to the 
front, endeavored to encourage and inspire 
them with renewed zeal. His example, 
however, was of short continuance, for, 
when near the crest of the glacis, he 
deceived a ball in the knee ; still continu- 
ing to lead on his men, another shot soon 
pierced his body, and he was carried in 
mortal agony from the field, in the arms of 
his aid-de-camp. Nearly at the same time, 
Major-General Gibbs, the second British 
officer in command, received a mortal 
wound when within a few yards of the 



lines, and was removed. The third in 
command also, Major-General Keane, 
while at the head of his troops near the 
glacis, was terribly wounded, and at once 
borne away. 

At this moment. General Lambert, — 
who had arrived from England but two 
days before, and found himself now the 
only surviving general, — was advancing at 
a small distance in the rear, with the 
reserve, and met the columns precipitately 
retreating, broken and confused. His 
efforts to stop them were unavailing, — 
onward they continued in their headlong 
retreat, until they reached a ditch, at the 
distance of four hundred yards, where a 
momentary safety being found, the pant- 
ing and fear-stricken fugitives were ral- 
lied, and halted. 

The field before them, over which they 
had so confidently advanced, was strewed 
with the dead and d^'ing. Imminent 
danger faced them ; yet, urged and en- 
couraged by their officers, who feared 
their own disgrace involved in the failure, 
they again moved to the charge. They 
were already near enough to deploj', and 
were endeavoring to do so ; but the same 
constant and unremitted resistance that 
caused their first retreat, continued yet 
unabated. Our batteries had never ceased 
their fire ; their constant discharges of 
grape and canister, and the fatal aim of 
our musketry, mowed down the front of 
the columns as fast as they could be 
formed. Satisfied nothing could be done, 
and that certain destruction awaited all 
further attempts, they forsook the contest 
and the field in disorder, leaving it almost 
entirely covered with tlie dead and 
wounded. It was in vain their officers 
endeavored to animate them to further 
resistance, and equally vain to attempt 
coercion. The panic produced by the 
dreadful repulse they had experienced, — 
the sight of the field on which they had 
acted, covered with the ghastly bodies of 
their countrymen, — and the bitter fact 
that, with their most zealous exertions, 
they had been unable to obtain the 
slightest advantage; all these circum- 



262 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



stances were well calculated to make even 
the most submissive solilier oppose tlu- 




autlioritj- that wuiilJ have controlled liim. 
The decided advantage of the Americans 



gave to the conduct of the enemy more of 
the character of madness than of valor. 
As has already been stated, the 
fall of General Pakenham and 
the two next in command de- 
volved the leadershij) upon 
Lambert, the only general offi- 
cer left upon the field, and to 
whom had been consigned the 
charge of the reserve ; and 
though, meeting the discom- 
fited troops in their flight, he 
endeavored to restore the for- 
tune of the da}', the effort was 
: fruitless to the last degree. 
E On the ninth. General Lam- 
- bert determined to relinquish 
I altogether so desperate and 
J hopeless an enterprise, and 
S immediately commenced the 
•: necessary preparations, though 
< with the utmost secrecy. It 
was not until the night of the 
b eighteenth, however, that the 
f British camp was entirely 
/ evacuated. 

: The loss of the British in 
; this fatal expedition was im- 
mense, the narrow field of strife 
between the opposing combat- 
ants being strewed witli dead. 
So dreadful a carnage, consid- 
ering the length of time and 
the numbers engaged, has sel- 
dom been recorded. Two thou- 
sand, at the lowest estimate, 
pressed the earth, besides such 
of the wounded as were not 
able to escape. The loss of the 
Americans did not exceed seven 
killed, and six wounded. Mili- 
tary annals do not furnish a 
more extraordinary instance of 
disparity in the slain, between 
the victors and vanqui-shed. 
The entire British force en- 
gaged in this attempted reduc- 
tion of New Orleans, amounted 
to twelve thousand men ; the 
Anieiicans numbered some six thousand, 
chielly militia. 



GREAT ANT) MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



263 



Pakenham, the distinguished leader of 
the British forces, was a brother-in-law of 
the great Duke of Wellington, had long 
been in high repute for military skill and 
personal bravery, and on this occasion 
numbered among his troops those who had 
won laurels of victory on the battle-fields 
of Europe. But, that he felt convinced of 
the magnitude and hazard of his present 
undertaking, as distinguished from all 
previous ones, is evident. When an officer 
leads his troops on a forlorn attempt, he 
not unfrequently places before them allure- 
ments stronger than either authority or 
duty. According to General Eaton's his- 
torical statements, a positive charge is 
made against General Pakenham, in this 
respect, — inducements having been held 
out by him, than which nothing more 
inviting could be offered to an infuriated 
soldiery. By this gallant but misguided 
general, there was promised to his soldiers 
— to excite their cupidity — the wealth of 
the city, as a recompense for their gal- 
lantry and desperation ; while, with brutal 
licentiousness, they were to revel in lawless 
indulgence, and triumph, uncontrolled, 
over female innocence. The history of 
Europe, since civilized warfare began, may 
be challenged to afford an instance of such 
gross and wanton outrage. The facts and 
circumstances which were developed at the 
time, left no doubt on the minds of the 
American officers, but that ' Boot// and 
Beauty' was the British watchword of the 
day. The information was obtained from 
prisoners, and confirmed by the books of 
two of their orderly sergeants taken in 
battle. 

Jackson was well aware, from the first, 
of the bold and recldess character of the 
enemy he had to deal with. With patri- 
otic indignation he declared : " The red- 
coats will find out whom they have to deal 
with. 1 will smash them, so help me 
God ! " And the spirit with which he led 



his men forward may be easily judged of 
from his emphatic exclamation — " Remem- 
ber, our watchword is ' Victory or Death ! ' 
We will enjoy our liberty, or perish in the 
last ditch ! " Never before did a general 
bring upon his troops such a spell of 
enthusiastic devotion to himself, and to 
the demands of the hour. So, too, in the 
flush of triumph, he did not forget mercy 
and magnanimity. " General Jackson," 
says Blackwood's Magazine, of London, 
" behaved with humanity and generosity 
to all his prisoners, which did him as great 
honor as his conduct in the defense. We 
do not hesitate to call him a great man." 
Such was the encomium bestowed upon 
him by the pen of an enemy, — one of 
the most influential organs of British 
opinion. 

At this time, the person of General 
Jackson is described as being neither 
robust nor elegant. He was six feet and 
one inch high, remarkably straight and 
spare, and weighing about one hundred 
and forty-five pounds. His physique 
apjjeared to disqualify him for hardship ; 
yet, accustomed to it from early life, few 
were capable of enduring fatigue to the 
same extent, or with less injury. His 
dark blue eyes, with brows arched and 
slightly jjrojecting, possessed a marked 
expression ; but when from any cause 
excited, they sparkled with peculiar luster 
and penetration. In his manners he was 
pleasing — in his address commanding. 
His countenance, marked with firmness 
and decision, yet beamed with a strength 
and intelligence that struck at first sight. 
In his deportment, he was easy, affable, 
familiar, and accessible to all. 

The annunciation of the triumphant 
defense of New Orleans was hailed, in 
every section of the country, with accla- 
mations of delight, and won for Jackson 
the title of " the conqueror of the con- 
querors of Napoleon." 



XXVIII. 

THE EVER-MEMORABLE SEPTEMBER GALE.— 1815. 



Its Violence and Destructiveness Without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country. — Terror 
Excited by Its Sudden and Tumultuous Force. — Unprecedented Phenomena of Tempest, Deluge and 
Flood. — One Hour of Indescribable Havoc on the Land and Sea. — Premonitory Indications. — Heavy 
Northeast Hains. — Sudden and Violent Changes of Wind. — Its Rapidity and Force Indescribable. — 
Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchards and Forests Instantly Uprooted. — Uaging and 
Foaming of the Sea. — Its Spray Drives Like a Snow-storm over the Land. — Tremendous Rise in the 
Tides — Irresistible Impetuosity of the Flood. — Several Feet of Water in the Streets. — Innumerable 
Fragments Fill the Air. — Flight for Safety to the Fields. — The Whole Coast Swarms with Wrecks. 
— Perils, Escapes, Fatalities. — Peculiar Meteorological Facts. — Bright Skies in the Midst of the Tem- 
pest. — Suffocating Current of Hot Air. — Sea Fowls in the Depths of the Interior. — Effect Upoa 
Lands, Crops, and Wells. — All New England Desolated. — Comparison with Other Gales. 



— " sun overheftd 
The minftlinc tempcist wctn its gloom, anil etjlt 
The deluge doeiivni': till the flelds around 
Lie eunk and tlutted in the aordid wove. 

All thnt the winds had tparad. 
Id one wild niotnent ruined." 



UDGING from all the information, historical 
and traditional, relating to the great American 
gales during tlie last hundred years, it would 
ap]icar that the one which occurred in New 
England, on the 23d of September, 1815, was 
and is still without a parallel, in its extraordi- 
nary characteristics of violence and destruc- 
tiveness. In the liistory of the country, 
dating back to its earliest annals, there is no 
account of any gale or hurricane equaling 
this, in its various phenomena of suddenness, 
severity and power. As distinguishing it, 
tlierefore, above all others of its class, this 
has ever since been called the Great Septem- 
lier Gale. 

The observations of the character, course 
iid effects of this wonderful storm, made by 
Professor Farrar and others, for the latitude 
I. w.M.,1.. "f Hoston, show that it was there i)receded by 
for about twenty-four hours with a moderate wind 
Early in the morning of the twenty-third, the wind shifted 
to the east, and began to blow in gusts accompanied with showers. It continued 




l»l-.niKt:«:il«».N UV TUK t,UK.\l t.Al.K A 

rain, which continued to fall 
from the north-east 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



265 



to change toward the south and to increase 
in violence while the rain abated. Be- 
tween nine and ten o'clock in the fore- 
noon, it began to excite alarm. Chimneys 
and trees were blown over both to the 
west and north ; but shingles and slates, 
that were torn from the roofs of buildings, 
were carried to the greatest distance in the 
direction of about three points west of 
north. 

Between half-past ten and half-past 
eleven o'clock, the greatest destruction 
took place. The rain ceased about the 
time the wind shifted from south-east to 
south ; a clear sky -was visible in many 
places during the utmost violence of the 
tempest, and clouds were seen flying with 
great rapidit)' in the direction of the wind. 
The air had an unusual appearance. It 
was considerably darkened by the exces- 
sive agitation, and filled with the leaves 
of trees and other liglit substances, which 
were raised to a great height and whirled 
about in eddies, instead of being driven 
directly forward as in a common storm. 
The rivers raged and foamed like the sea in 
a storm, and the spray was raised to the 
height of sixty or one hundred feet in the 
form of thin white clouds, which were 
drifted along in a kind of wave form, like 
snow in a violent snow-storm. Travelers 
were frequently driven back by the force 
of the wind, and were obliged to screen 
themselves behind fences and trees or to 
advance obliquely. It was impossible for 
even the stoutest man to stand firm in a 
place exposed to the full force of the wind. 
The pressure of the wind was like that 
of a rapid current of water ; pedestrians 
could with great difficulty hear each other 
speak at the distance of two or three 
yards ; and they moved about almost as 
awkwardly as if attempting to wade in a 
strong tide. 

In Boston harbor, the sea had risen 
unusually high, two hours before the calen- 
dar time of high water. But the direction 
of the wind at this time tended to coun- 
teract the tide, and thus secured the port 
from that awful calamity which threatened 
it. Great losses, however, were sustained 



from the wind alone ; many buildings 
were blown down, great numbers were 
unroofed or otherwise injured, and few 
entirely escaped. The most calamitous 
destruction befell the trees, — orchards and 
forests exhibiting a scene of desolation, 
the like of which had never before been 
witnessed in America. The roads in many 
places were rendered impassable, not only 
through woods, but in the more cultivated 
towns, where they hajipened to be lined 
with trees ; and the streets in Boston and 
neighboring towns were strewed with the 
ruins of innumerable gardens and fruit- 
yards. A considerable proportion of the 
large and beautiful trees in Boston mall, 
and in other public walks, some of which 
trees measured from eight to twelve feet 
in circumference, were torn up by the 
roots and prostrated. Apple trees, in 
especial, being separated at a considerable 
distance from each other, were overturned 
in great numbers ; no less than jive thou- 
sand were thus destroyed in the town of 
Dorchester alone. In this same town, 
also, seventeen houses were unroofed, sixty 
chimnej'S blo^vll over, and about forty 
barns demolished. 

Rhode Island felt the full force of this 
remarkable gale. Providence suffering to 
the amount of millions of dollars, accom- 
panied with a fearful loss of life, as in 
other i^laces. This was owing to the wind 
blowing directly up the river on which the 
place is built, unbroken by the cape or 
Long Island, and in sweeping over such 
an extent of water it accumulated a dread- 
ful and most destructive tide, so that 
vessels were actually driven over the 
luharves and through the streets. Early 
in the morning, the wind was north-east, 
but, at about eight, it shifted to south-east, 
and soon began to blow violently, continu- 
ing to increase until ten, when it became 
a hurricane. All was now confusion and 
dismay in the exposed region. The tide, 
impelled by the tempest, overflowed the 
wharves ; vessels, broken from their moor- 
ings in the stream, and their fastenings at 
the wharves, were seen driving with dread- 
ful impetuosity towards the bridge, which 



266 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S7G. 



thej' swept away, without a moment's 
check to tlieir progress, and passed on to 
the liead of the basin, where they drove 
liigh up tlie bank. Every exertion to 
protect property, was rendered futile bj- 
the violence of the wind, the rapid rise of 
the water, and the falling of trees ; indeed, 
these, with the crashing of chimneys, 
tumbling upon the houses and descending 
into the streets, together with tiles and 
railings from the tops of buildings, and 
manj- other species of dangerous missile 
flj'ing througli the air, rendered it perilous 
to appear in the streets. All considera- 
tion of property, however, was soon for- 
gotten ill the more important one of self- 
preservation. The tenijiist still raged 



elements, were seen removing the panic- 
stricken inmates; and on the east side, an 
awful torrent rolled through the main 
street, in depth nearly to a man's waist, 
and by wliich boats, masts, bales of cotton, 
and imniense ijuantities of property' of 
every description, were driven along with 
resistless force. It was an awful and te)"- 
rific scene. Every store below, on the 
east side, was either carried away or com- 
pletely shattered ; and every building on 
the opposite side and on the wharves, were 
swept froui their foundations — so that all 
the space, where, an hour or two before, 
were so many valuable wharves and stores 
crowded witli shipping and merchandise, 
was now one wide waste of tumultuous 




1 id: 1 \ Ki:-Mi:>loUAlti,E c 



with increasing violence ; the flood was 
overwhelming tlie lower jiartsof the town; 
stores and dwelling-houses were tottering 
on their foundations, and then, plunging 
into the deluge, blended their shattered 
remains with the wrecks of vessels, — the 
whole passing, with irresistible impetuos- 
ity, in full view, on the current to the head 
of the cove, to join tlie ahead}' accumu- 
lated mass of similar wrecks. 

By this time, the water on the west side 
of the river had risen nearly to the tops of 
the lower windows of the houses, and boats 
and scows, struggling with the maddened 



.VI. K. SEI'TEMIIEI! L'3, Ibl.i. 

water. Only two small vessels, of all that 
were in the harbor, succeeded in riding 
out the gale, all the rest having drifted 
ashore, or been carried high up on the 
wharves. It was suih a scene of wide- 
si>read ruin and desolation, as beggars all 
description — vessels of all kinds and in 
every position, blended promiscuously, 
with carriages, lumber, wrecks of build- 
ings of every variety, furniture, and tens 
of thousands of fragments from far and 
near, all told the story of universal havoc 
and destruction. Women and children tcere 
saved in boats from chamber-windows. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



267 



One distressing and peculiar scene, 
which took place among the shipping, will 
serve as a description of a thousand other 
cases which occurred during the storm. A 
brig, loaded and ready for sea, with live- 
stock, drove against the end of a wharf, 
and her head rested on it ; here slie hung, 
appearing every moment as if she would 
upset, and plunge her crew into the raging 
flood. The men were seen clinging to her, 
awaiting their fate, as no soul could ven- 
ture to their succor, — the whole distance 
between the vessel and the houses being 
filled with roofs and parts of stores tum- 
bling with the violence of the tempest. 
Expecting every moment to be precipitated 
into the torrent, they determined at last 
upon the final but perilous attempt to quit 
the vessel and gain the houses. Strug- 
gling with the violence of the gale, and 
with the rolling and bounding materials, 
in endeavoring to get a foothold, they at 
last reached the rear of the houses, where 
some were taken into the second story, 
and others, unable to be reached, succeeded 
in braving the waves until they swam to a 
place of safety. 

But it would be absolutelj' impossible to 
give an extended detail of the disastrous 
scenes pertaining to each separate locality, 
although some of the incidents and items 
of the gale's destructive effects deserve to 
be cited for their very marvelousness. 
Mention has already been made of the 
devastation in Dorchester, near Boston, — 
unparalleled since its settlement,^result- 
ing in seventeen houses being unroofed, 
sixty chimneys prostrated, forty barns 
demolished, and more than five thousand 
trees destroyed. The number of buildings, 
large and small, destroyed in Providence, 
ivas estimated at five hundred, and about 
fifty vessels wrecked. In many instances, 
majestic oaks, which had braved the tem- 
pests an hundred j-ears or more, were • 
thrown down, or twisted into shreds ; and 
in Danvers, Mass., the venerable pear tree, 
imported and transplanted by Governor 
Endicott, was made terrible havoc with. 
In Chelsea, not far from Danvers, the 
great Elm tree, seventeen feet in girth, 



and which had a jjortico built upon its 
limbs, capable of holding thirty persons, 
was among the wrecked. In tlie little 
town of Acton, about twenty miles from 
Boston, the damage amounted to forty 
thousand dollars. At Stonington, Conn., 
the tide rose seventeen feet higher than 
•usual, all the vessels going ashore or sink- 
ing, and all the wharves and manj- build- 
ings being destroyed. The fate of one 
citizen of this town was almost as disas- 
trous as that of Job of yore : His house, 
ropewalk, blacksmith's shop, and other 
buildings, with all their contents, were 
swept away, and, melancholy to relate, his 
wife, daughter, wife's mother, and a 
young lady visitor, all perished in the 
billows. All along the New England 
coast, and as far as New York, the damage 
done to the ship2:)ing was immense, hun- 
dreds of vessels with their cargoes being 
wrecked ; and almost every seaport as well 
as inland town suffering to some degree, 
— in nianj' instances, almost irreparable, in 
kind and extent. Innumerable churches 
were wholly or partially ruined, and the 
number of cattle killed was very great. 
The gale was also severely felt by 
vessels off Cape Hatteras, in the gulf 
stream, off the capes of Delaware, at Sandy 
Hook, Nantucket Shoals, Cape Ann, Cape 
Henlopen, etc. 

The course of the gale, as ascertained 
from data procured from various points, 
furnishes facts of peculiar meteorological 
interest. Thus, in Philadeljihia, there 
was, during most of the night of the 
twenty-second, a gale from the north-east, 
with heavy rain. Early the next day, the 
wind veered to the north-west, the gale 
continuing, with torrents of rain, for sev- 
eral hours. Between eight and nine 
o'clock, the wind slackened, the rain 
ceased, and clouds broke away in the west 
and south. About noon, the weather was 
clear and mild, with a gentle westerly 
breeze. During the greater part of the 
afternoon, the sun was obscured with fly- 
ing clouds from the west and north-west. 

In New York, a violent north-east storm 
of wind and rain commenced at liight, on 



208 



OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187C. 



the twenty-first ; about two o'clock, the 
wind siiildi'iily shifted to the north and 
north-west, blowing with increased vio- 
lence. On the twenty-second, there was a 
gale all day, from the north-east and east, 
with heavy and incessant rain. The gale 
increased in the evening, continuing until 
four o'clock tlie ne.\t afternoon, though 
most violent at nine o'clock the same fore- 
noon, the wind being north to north-west. 
At New London, Connecticut, the storm 
commenced on Friday, the twenty-second, 
a heavy raiu falling during that day and 
night, the wind north-east. Next morn- 
ing, the twentj'-tliird, the wind became 
very violent, and soon after almost a hur- 
ricane. The tide, which commenced flood 
about six o'clock, had, by ten, risen three 
or four feet higher than was ever known 
before. The rise was so rapid, too, that 
some of the dwellings were deluged before 
the inhaliitauts knew of their danger, and 
not more tliaii thirty minutes elapsed after 
they thus realized their peril, before the 
waves rose four to six feet in the streets ! 
Stores were soon seen falling before the 
terrible power of the tempest, buildings 
were unroofed, giant trees fell. But this 
awful scene of destruction was short. 
Soon after eleven o'clock, the wind shifted 
to the westward and abated ; the sea 
returned with the velocity it came in, 
though it should have run flood until 
twelve ; and the storm ceased. The show- 
ers which fell over the city and neighbor- 
hood were of salt water; and the leaves of 
the tender fruit-trees and shrubs and of 
many forest trees, without I'rost, shrunk in 
a few hours after the gale as though tliey 
had been scorched. Brooks and wells in 
the town and neighborhood became brack- 
ish ; and during the strength of the wind, 
in the eddies, the air was extremely hot 
and suffocating. 

Far into the interior, the tempest swept 
and raged with unparalleled fury. Early 
on Saturday morning, the wind became 
very violent, and torrents of rain descended, 
continuing with but short intermissions 
until about half-past ten in the forenoon ; 
at this time, the rain abated, and the wind. 



suddenly shifting to the south-east, blew a 
hurricane, the terrible devastation of wliich 
covered a column or urea oj' nixty miles in 
width. A suffocating current of air as, 
from a hot bath, accompanied the middle 
stage of the temjjest. Flocks of gulls, 
from the far-off ocean, were seen after the 
storm in the AV'orcester meadows, and, as 
evening approachud, they flew toward the 
sea. 

Along the seaboard, the effect of the 
tide upon the soil and its productions was 
very marked. Grass was entirely killed. 
There was not a green blade to be seen, in 
any place, over which the flood liad passed. 
In a few spots, near running springs, some 
new shoots appeared in the course of the 
autumn ; but on uplands, none grew until 
another season, and then it was not the 
same kind of grass which grew there 
before, excepting in a very few instances. 
Several cedar-swamps were filled with sea 
water, which, having no outlet, soaked 
into the ground. The trees in these 
swamps perished forthwith, the leaves 
withering and falling off in a very short 
time. In the trees cut from these swamps 
during the winter following the storm, the 
sap-wood had turned nearly black ; and 
there was scarcely an instance in which a 
cedar-tree survived the effect of the flood. 
Pine and oak trees suffered a similar fate, 
excepting a very few, which stood near 
the shore, — these latter, perhaps, having 
grown accustomed to the influence of salt 
water, and could better endure the ordeal, 
— though a verj' great proportion even of 
these perished in a short time. Most of 
the shrubs and bushes, over which the tide 
passed, perished similarly. It was ob- 
served, however, that one or two species 
of laurel, and the common bayberry, were 
but little if at all injured, and some of 
the swamp whortleberry-bushes survived. 
Apple trees were, generally, on such high 
ground, that the tide did not reach them ; 
only a few were surrounded by the water, 
and none of them were so situated that the 
water could remain about them for any 
length of time. They were, nevertheless, 
as much exposed as many of the cedars 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



269 



which died ; but the apple trees continued 
to live, though considerably stinted in 
their growth. With these exceptions, the 
destruction of vegetable life in localities of 
this exposure, was very general, if not 
universal. 

Wherever the cultivated lands were in 
low places near the shore, they were of 
course overflowed. In fields where Indian 
corn was standing, the roots were, in most 
cases, torn out of the ground ; and whei'e 
this did not take place, the stalks were 
wrenched and twisted, and the spikes 
broken off. The corn, where it had pre- 
viously grown hard or ripe, was fit for 
food, but where the grain had not already 
hardened, it failed to do so, and either per- 
ished in the husk, or very soon after it 
was taken out. It was a common remark, 
that no part of the plant could be dried by 
any means, and therefore by far the 
greater part of the harvest was lost, not 
being yet ripe. Potatoes, and other 
vegetable roots, if left in the ground, 
perished ; but, where they had rijiened, 
and were taken up within a few daj^s 
after the flood, and well dried, they were 
good. 



which the tide water did not run, were so 
infected with the taste and qualities of sea 
water, as to be totally unfit for domestic 
purposes. The inhabitants were obliged 
therefore to transport this necessary article 
for household uses, from a great distance ; 
and travelers who needed it were glad to 
receive it in a measure of the smallest 
capacity. In some wells near the shore, 
the water formerly rose and fell with the 
tide, still remaining fresh ; but the severe 
and peculiar discipline of this flood so 
changed their habit, that the water in 
them became of a fixed height, and saltish. 
When the vast and tremendous tide was 
sweeping over the land, the spray arising 
from it was very great, over a wide surface 
of country, extending to the furthermost 
of the interior of the northern states. It 
is spoken of as having resembled a driving 
snow-storm, through which objects could 
be discerned only at short distances. In 
the more northerly regions, it was observed, 
immediately after the storm, that a singu- 
lar effect had been produced upon the 
leaves of the trees by the spray; their 
vitality was destroj'ed, and they exhibited 
an apj)earance similar to that which 




HOKROKS OF THE WHIELWIXII THROUGHOUT NEW ENGLAND. 



Fresh water, along the seaboard, was, 
for a long time, a rarity of jsrice, the wells 
having been generally overflown and left 
full of sea water. Watering-places for 
cattle suffered a similar fate ; and so 
extensive was the influence of the flood, 
that many wells, pools and streams, into 



accompanies frost, except that they 
retained more of their original color, anil 
in some instances they assumed a dark 
red hue, as if thej' had been well scorched. 
But in other sections along the shore, the 
leaves did not exhibit this peculiar dis- 
coloration ; those which were destroyed by 



270 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the flood, bore every mark of death, but 
not of having been burnt, — neitlier was 
there any thin coating of salt on the win- 
dows in these regions, as on those in the 
neighborhood of Boston and elsewliere. 

In multitudes of instances, the saltness 
of tlie wells and water! ng-plaees continued 
unabated for six months, or until tlie first 
week of the following March. The winter 
had been severe, and the ground frozen 
very deep until tlie middle of February, 
when there were several weeks of moderate 
weather, with soft rains, which dissolved 
the snows and opened tlie ground ; shortly 
after which, it was discovered that several 
of the wells and ponds were fresh. As 
the water in these had been tasted but a 
few days previously and was found still to 
retain its disagreeableness, the freshness 
must have taken place suddenly. After 
.suiiessive spells of dry weather, these 
wells grew salt again, but not to the same 
degree as before ; and, on the other hand, 
they would be fresh, after heavy rains, and 
tlien become salt again after dry weather, 
the degree of saltness diminishing from 
time to time. This peculiaritj- continued 
for several years, in some localities, being, 
of course, a great inconvenience to man 
and beast. 

The center or the limits of this great 
and memorable tempest, scientific investi- 
gators were unable to determine. It was 
very violent at places separated by a con- 
siderable interval from each other; while 
the intermediate region suffered much less. 
Its course through forests was, in some 
instances, marked almost as definitely, as 
where the trees have been newly cut down 
for a road. In these cases, it appears to 
hare heeii u mor'tng vovtex, and not the 
rushing forward of the great body of the 
atmosphere. Tliere seems to have been 
no part of the coast of New England which 
escaped its fury, though in Vermont and 
the western parts of New HampsJiire its 
severity was much less; yet still further 
west, on the St. Lawrence, the gale was so 
great as to render it extremely dangerous 
to be upon the river. And what is still 
more remarkable, the storm began to grow 



violent at tliis plare about the same time 
that it commenced near the Atlantic, and 
subsided about the same time. 

As to the direction of the wind, at the 
several places where the storm prevailed. 
Professor Farrar's account states, tliat, on 
the twenty-second, the wind was pretty 
generally from the north-east. Tlie storm 
commenced to the leeward ; but when the 
wind sliifted from north-east to east and 
south, along the coast of New England, it 
veered round in the opposite direction at 
New York, and at an earlier period. It 
reached its greatest height at this latter 
place about nine o'clock on the morning of 
the twenty-third, when it was from the 
north-west ; whereas, at Boston, it became 
most violent and devastating about tw'o 
hours later, and blew from tlie opposite 
quarter of the heavens. At Montreal, the 
direction of the winil was the same as at 
New York, but did not attain its greatest 
height so soon by several hours. The 
barometer descended very fast during the 
morning of the twenty-third, and, when 
the wind was highest, had fallen about 
half an inch. It began to rise as the wind 
abated, and reco\-ered its former elevation 
by the time the air was restored to its 
usual tranquillity. 

According to the investigations made 
by others, and the observations reconlcd 
at the time, in different places, the follow- 
ing facts are believed to be established, 
namely: Tliat the hurricane commenced 
in the West Indies, and moved northward 
at the rate of twelve or fifteen miles an 
hour. Its course from St. Barts was about 
west-north-west to Turks Island, and 
thence to Boston — nearly on the same 
meridian — it was a curve convex to the 
west. Previous to the arrival of the hur- 
ricane in New England, a north-east storm 
li.id prevailed along the Atlantic coast for 
more than twenty-four hours. For some 
hours i)revious to the hurricane, there was 
a great and rapid condensation of vapor, 
jiroducing a heavy fall of rain in the line 
of the north-east storm. Tlie hurricane, 
or violent Idow, was mostly from the .south- 
east, blowing into and at right angles to 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



271 



the north-east storm, at its southern ter- 
mination. As the south-east wind ap- 
proached the line of the north-east storm, 
it was deflected into an east wind. The 
general form of the hurricane, in and about 
New England, was that of an eccentric 
ellipse, with its longest diameter north- 
east and south-west; wind blowing north- 
east on the north-west side ; north-nortli- 
west, and west-north-west, at its south 
end ; south-east on its south-east side, 
curving into an east wind at its junc- 
tion with the north-east current ; wind 
blowing from south at the easternmost 
part of the hurricane. The whole body 
of the hurricane, in tlie form thus 
described, moved to the north nearly on 
the meridian. 

It is universally admitted, that there is 
no account of a storm or gale in all respects 
so remarkable in its phenomena as this, to 
be found in the history of the United 
States. Other hurricanes there have been, 
laying waste whatever came in their way, 
but they have been comparatively limited 
in their extent and destructiveness. 
Morton, in his New England Memorial, 
gives a descrif)tion of the violent tempest 
that took place soon after the first settle- 
ment at Plymouth. It began on the 
morning of August fifteenth, 1635, very 
suddenly, " blew down houses, uncovered 
divers others, divers vessels were lost at 
sea; it caused the sea to swell in some 
places so that it arose to twenty foot right 
up and down, and made many Indians to 
climb into trees for their safetj' ; blew 
down many hundred thousands of trees," 
etc. The tremendous gales of 1723, 1804, 
1818, 1821, 1836, 1841, 1851, 1859, 
1860, 1869, and some others, will long 



be remembered in certain localities, for 
their severity and the loss of life 
and property, on land and sea, which 
attended them ; but neither the memory 
of man, nor the annals of the country, 
from its first settlement doivn to the 
present time, furnish any jjarallel to 
the peculiar character of the great (jale 
of Siqitemher, 1815. 

Of the storms and floods which occurred 
during the last half of the century, those 
of September and October, 1869, were per- 
haps the most memorable. The devasta- 
tion by the latter embraced the whole 
country between the Nova Scotia coast and 
the Mississijjpi, and from the north limits 
of the Canadas to the cotton states. The 
rain fell in torrents for about forty consec- 
utive hours, the dense clouds descending 
in vast sheets, and a moaning wind accom- 
panying the powerful outpouring. A 
stronger storm was beyond conception. In 
some places, the rain-gauge showed that 
four inches of rain fell in the course of 
twenty-nine hours, and, during the suc- 
ceeding six hours, 3.34 inches additional, 
— the total fall of water during the storm, 
over a vast region of country-, reaching the 
enormous amount of 8.05 inches. The 
resulting floods on all the streams were 
beyond any ever recorded. The storm was 
so sudden and unexpected, that no pre- 
cautions could have been taken, and none 
were. Railroads, telegraph wires, streets, 
bridges, dams, manufactories, houses, lands, 
crops, were utterly- or partially ruined, 
over a wide extent of countrj' ; and such 
an embargo on travel was never known 
before. The pecuniary losses reached 
millions of dollars, and many lives were 
lost. 



XXIX. 

VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA, AS THE GUEST 
OF THE REPUBLIC— 1824. 



His Tour of Five Thousand Miles Through the Twenty-Four States. — A National Ovation on the 
Grandest Scale. — Cities, States, Legislatures and Governors, Vie in Their Demonstrations of Kespcct. 
— The Venerable Patriot Enters the Tomb and Stands Beside the Remains of His Great Departed 
Friend, Washington. — Noble Qualities of the Marquis. — A Favorite of Louis XVI. — Hears 
of the Battle of Bunker Hill. — Pleads the Cause of the Americans. — Kesolves to Join Their 
Army. — Freely Consecrates His Vast Wealth. — Equips a Vessel and Embarks. — Introduced to 
General Washington. — Admiration of Him by the Chieflain. — One of Washington's Military 
Family. — A Major-General in His Nineteenth Year. — Heroic Fidelity During the War. — Subse- 
qiitiil Vil■^^itlllk■s in France —.\nKTii;i's lUnrt-l'VIi Sympathy. — He Leaves Havre for New York. — 

Enthusiasm Excit- 
ed by His Pres- 
ence. — Incidents, 
Interviews, Fetes. 
— Greetings with 
Old Comrades. — 
— Memories, Joys, 
and Tears. — De- 
parts In the United 
States Ship Lafay- 
ette. — His Death 
in 1834.— National 
Grief. 




'Fortunntp. fortunntf man I 
i-QV(.D .nw tit to nrilnin tliat 
~ ,.„- ...I. I'Uitnc •)>nrk ot liticrtv 
• f f*) ^>^ It ^lioulil hf t'onductcd.lhtoUKli 
■1* -.v ', !•' 1 .ur»y<'tte. Irotn tht New 
■^•^ I r" f WurW to Iha Old."-UA.NlKL 
^' _\ Weusilh. 



wo names are most intimately and indissolubly associated with 
the dramatic train of military events which led to the establish- 
'/-—. ment of the United States as a nation and government, namely, 

>• 's'-- " those of Washington and Laf.wette. No two names are, 

down to the present day, more fresh in the love and gratitude of the American people, 
and, until time shall be no more, a test of the fidelity with which tliat jieojile hold to 
tlie principles of republican wisdom and virtue that gave them birth, will be their 
admiration of the names of those patriots and heroes. To understand, therefore, 
the significance of that spontaneous outbur.st of pop\ilar enthusiasm which greeted 
Lafayette on his visit to America in 1824, and which made that year one of the most 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



273 



memorable in the nation's history, it will 
only be necessary to glance at the services, 
military and civil, rendered us by this 
large-hearted patriot, during the opening 
years of our national existence. Those 
services and that reception form, indeed, a 
national romance. 

When only thirteen years of age, Lafay- 
ette was left an orphan, and in full posses- 
sion of valuable estates, and master of his 
own affairs. Being for a time at the col- 
lege in Paris, his associations brought him 
into notice at the court of King Louis, and 
he became quite a favorite with that mon- 
arch. He was appointed one of the 
queen's pages, and through her agency 
received a commission at the early age of 
fifteen. He formed an early attachment 
to a daughter of the noble family of 
Noailles, with whom he was united in 
marriage at the age of sixteen. Adopting 
the profession of a soldier, Lafayette, at 
nineteen, was stationed, as captain of dra- 
goons, at Metz, one of the garrisoned 
towns of France. Here, in 1776, Lafay- 
ette's attention was directed to the conflict 
of liberty in America — the hostilities 
between Britain and her colonies ; and 
while in conversation with the Duke of 
Gloucester, brother to George the Third, of 
England, he elicited facts that led him to 
see the whole merits of the case. The 
battle of Bunker Hill and the Declaration 
of Independence fired his heart ! Before 
rising from the dinner-table at whicli this 
interview occurred, Lafayette had resolved 
to leave his home, and offer himself and 
his services to the rising republic, whose 
cause he regarded as just and noble. From 
that hour he could think of nothing but 
this chivalrous enterprise, though aware 
that it would cut him off from the favor 
of that brilliant court-circle in which he 
shone so conspicuously, and that he would 
also have to tear himself away from his 
young, beautiful, and fondly attached 
wife, who alone, among all his associates, 
approved of his intention. 

Proceeding to Paris, he confided his 
scheme to two young friends, Count Segur 
and Viscount Noailles, and proposed that 
18 



they should join him. They entered with 
enthusiasm into his views, but, owing to 
obstacles put in their way through family 
interference, they were prevented from 
following out their course, but faithfully 
kept their comrade's secret. He next 
explained his intention to Count Broglie, 
who advised him to abandon it at once as 
in the highest degree chimerical and haz- 
ardous. The count assured him that his 
confidence was not misplaced; but, said 
he— 

"I have seen j-our uncle die in the wars 
of Italy, I witnessed your father's death at 
the battle of Minden, and I will not be 
accessory to the ruin of the only remaining 
branch of the family." 

But, so far from being disheartened by 
the unpromising reception which Lafay- 
ette's plan met with from those to whom 
he made known his purposes,, his ardor 
was rather increased in the pursuit of his 
object. " My zeal and love of liberty," 
said he, " have perhaps been hitherto the 
prevailing motives ; but now I see a 
chance for usefulness, which I had not 
anticipated. I have money ; I will pur- 
chase a ship, which shall convey to Amer- 
ica myself, my companions, and the freight 
for congress." All this, as the sequel will 
show, he nobly and self-sacrificingly car- 
ried out. 

This design was now made known by 
Lafayette to Messrs. Franklin, Lee, and 
Deane, the American commissioners at 
Paris ; and to a proposal so disinterested 
and generous they could, of course, make 
no objection, — could only admire, indeed, 
the spirit which actuated it; and he hast- 
ened immediately to put it into execution. 
After surmounting the many difficulties 
which from time to time interrupted the 
progress of his plans, he at last set sail, 
the Baron de Kalb and eleven other offi- 
cers of various ranks, in pursuit of em- 
ployment in the American army, consti- 
tuting his retinue. In due time they 
approached the shore near Georgetown, 
South Carolina, having fortunately escaped 
two British cruisers, and soon proceeded 
to Charleston harbor, where a magnificent 



274 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



reception was given tlieni. The vessel 
was subsequently loaded with rice for the 
French market, but it foundered in going 
out of the harbor, and both the vessel and 
the cargo became a total loss. 

But Lafayette had not j'et readied his 
destination. As soon, however, as all 
things were in readiness, the party left 
Charleston and traveled to Philadelpliia, 
where congress was then sitting. On 
arriving there, he put his letters into the 
hands of Mr. Lovell, chairman of the com- 
mittee on foreign affairs, lie called the 
next day at the hall of congress, and Jlr. 
Lovell came out to him and said, that so 
many foreigners had offered themselves for 
eni[iloyment, that congress was embar- 
rassed with their a])plication, and he was 
sorry to inform him there was very little 
hope of his success. Lafayette suspected 
that his papers had not been read, and he 




immediately sat down and wrote a note to 
the president of congress, in which he 
desired to be permitted to serve in the 
American army on two conditions : first, 
that he should receive no pay ; second, 
that he should act as a volunteer. These 
terms were so different from those de- 
manded by other foreigners, and presented 
so few obstacles on the ground of any 
interference with American officers, that 
they were at once accepted. His rank, 



zeal, perseverance, and disinterestedness, 
overcame every objection, and he was 
appointed a major-general in the American 
army before he had reached the age of 
twenty. 

But he was yet to stand before the face 
of the great Anieiican chieftain. AVash- 
ington was at head-<iuarters when Lafay- 
ette reached I'hiladelphia, but, being daily 
expected in the city, the young general 
concluded to wait his arrival, instead of 
presenting himself at camp. The intro- 
duction of the youthful stranger to the 
man on whom his career depended was, 
however, delayed only a few days. It 
took place in a manner j)eciiliarly marked 
with the circumspection of ^^'a.■^llington, 
at a dinner-part\-, where Lafayette was 
one among several guests of consideration. 
Wa.shington was not uninformed of the 
circumstances connected with Lafayette's 
arrival in this country ; and it may well 
be supposed that the eye of the father of 
his country was not idle during the re- 
jiast. But that searching glance, before 
which pretense or fraud never stood 
undetected, was comjiletely satisfied. 
AVIien they were about to separate, 
Washington took Lafaj'ctte aside, spoke 
to him with kindness, complimented 
liim ui)on the noble sjiirit he had shown 
and the sacrifices lie had made in favor 
of the American cause, and then told 
him that he should be pleased if he 
would make the quarters of the com- 
mander-in-chief his liome, establish him- 
' self there whenever he thought proper, 
and consider himself at all times as one 
of his family, — adding, in a tone of pleas- 
antry, that he could not jiromise him the 
lu.\uries of a court, or even the con- 
veniences which his former habits might 
have rendered essential toliis comfort, but, 
since he had become an American soldier 
he would doubtless contrive to accommo- 
date himself to the customs, manners and 
privations of a republican army. Such 
was the reception given to Lafayette, by 
the most sagacious and observant of men ; 
and the personal acquaintance, thus com- 
menced, ripened into an intimacy, a con- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



275 



fidence, and an affection vvitliout bounds, 
and never for one moment interrupted. If 
there lived a man whom Washington 
loved and admired, it was Lafayette. 

Gloriously did Lafayette fulfill, in his 
military career, the high hoi^es which 
swelled the hearts of American patriots, in 
the heroic courage which he displayed at 
Brandywine, where he received a ball in 
his leg; his success in Jersey, before he 
had recovered from his wounds, in a battle 
where he commanded militia against Brit- 
ish grenadiers; in the brilliant retreat, 
by which he eluded a combined maneuver 
of the whole British force; by his great 
services in the enterprise against Rhode 
Island, and his successful movements 
against Cornwallis ; — all these proofs of 
his patriotism and military skill, together 
with his warm and unsullied friendship 
for Washington, through all the varying 
fortunes of war, endeared liim forever to 
every American. 

After the fall of Cornwallis, L.afayette 
sailed for France, but revisited America 
in 1784. He was received with enthusi- 
asm wherever he went. Returning to 
France, he found himself the object of 
immense popularity, and took his seat with 
the notables, convoked in 1787. In 1789 
he boldly proposed, in the national convo^ 
cation, the Declaration of Rights, which 
he had brought from the free soil of Amer- 
ica, as the preliminary of a constitution. 
Proclamation of this world-renowned doc- 
ument was made July 22, audit furnished 
the French people with the metaphysical 
reasons for the "sacred right of insurrec- 
tion." Meanwhile the Bastile had been 
taken, July 14, the national guard organ- 
ized, and Lafayette appointed to the c^'om- 
niand. In this capacity he rode a white 
charger, and shone the impersonation of 
chivalry, and twice the royal family owed 
their preservation to his address and cour- 
age. When the popular enthusiasm lulled, 
he returned to his native fields; the 
national guard, on his retirement, present- 
ing hun with a bust of Washington, and 
a sword forged from the bolts of the Bas- 
tile. Subsequently, having denounced the 



bloodthirsty Jacobins, he was burned in 
effigy by the sans-culottes of Paris, and, 
fleeing from the guillotine which therj 
awaited him, he finally fell into the hands 
of the Austrians, and was by them sub- 
jected to a long and cruel imprisonment in 
the fortress at Olmutz. His release, so 
earnestly but unsuccessfully solicited by 
Washington, was peremptorily demanded 
by Napoleon, and obtained, in September, 
1787. In the year 1818, he became a 
member of the chamber of deputies, and, 
resuming his career as an advocate of con- 
stitutional principles, succeeded at last in 
elevating Louis Philippe to the throne of 
France. 

By this time, Lafayette had grown old 
in the services he had rendered to America 
and Prance. Though his years were now 
nearly three score and ten, he could not 
think of meeting death until he h.ad once 
more seen that land of liberty across the 
wide Atlantic, which was as dear to him as 
his native country. In its infancy, and 
for its freedom, he had, fifty years ago, 
contributed liis wealth and shed his blood, 
sharing the bosom confidence of the great 
Washington as did no other human being. 
That struggling little republic had now 
become a giant nation ; the thirteen states 
constituting the original galaxy, had be- 
come almost double that number, and vast 
as the empires of antiquity in territory. 
Remembering his magnificent services, in 
1824 the congress of the United States 
voted unanimously a resolution requesting 
President Monroe to invite Lafayette to 
visit the United States, as the nation's 
guest,— an honor never before accorded a 
foreign nobleman,— and tendering a ship 
of the line for his conve^-ance. This invi- 
tation was extended to the great French 
patriot in President Monroe's most happy 
manner, and was duly accepted, though 
the offer of a war-ship was declined. 

On the twelfth of July, 1824, Lafayette, 
accompanied by his son, George Washing- 
ton Lafayette, and his secretary, M. Levas- 
seur, sailed from Havre for America. He 
arrived in New York, August fifteenth, 
and landed on Staten Island. One of the 



276 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177C-1876. 



first to greet him was Joseph Bonaparte, 
brother of tlic preat Napoleon. Joseph 
then resided at Bordentown, New Jersey ; 




SWORD OF HONOR PRESKyTFD TO LAFAVKTTE. 

he liail always (-lierislu'd a high reganl for 
the jManpiis, and greatly valued his 
frienil.sliip. The interview between the 
two was attended with the warmest emo- 
tions ; and whoever has seen Sully's \wv- 
trait of the great Fnncli patriot can form 
some adequate con(i>])tiou of the chieftain's 
magniticent bearing on this occasion. 

The announcement of his arrival sent a 
thrill of joy to every American heart and 
homo, and the great pageant of his recep- 
tion commenced in the city where he first 
set foot forty years before. As the fleet 
arrived off the battery at New York, a mili- 
tary lino composed of thousands of veter- 
ans was formed, and the peo[)le, crowding 
the battery and all the adjacent streets, 
swelled the throng to the number of f(U-ty 
thousand. The patriot was d('ei)ly affected 
wliiii lie exchanged congratulations with 
Ills old companions and friends. Shout 
after shout went up in long and loud 
acclaim, while the bands of music played 
a triumphant welcome to the hero. His 
stay in the city was one unbroken succes- 



sion of high honors and civic laudation, 
such as kings might envy ; at Albany, he 
was received by ^'ice-President Tompkins. 
On proceeding to New England, the same 
enthusiasm was exhibited in every city, 
town, and village. From the residence of 
Hon. William Eustis, the governor of 
Massachusetts, in Roxbury, he was es- 
corted by a large cavalcade and almost the 
entire population, to Boston, where a 
dense assemblage awaited his aiipoaranee. 
Arriving at the line, he was greeted by 
the mayor of the city and the jieople, 
througli whom he passed in a superb car- 
riage, under deafening cheers. The streets 
were lined with spectators to the entrance 
of the beautiful ccunmon. There, the 
children of the public schools formed two 
lines, the girls being dressed in .spotless 
white, and the boys in white jiants and 
blue jackets, and all wearing a]i])ropnate 
badges. A little girl sprang forward from 
the line as Lafayette was passing, and, at 
her request to speak to him, was lifted 
into the carriage, when she gracefully pre- 
sented him with a wreath of flowers, which 
the venerable hero received with affecting 
courtesy. AVliile going from town to town, 
he found in every place some of the 
descendants of 177(5, ready to give him 
the heartiest of welcomes. Thus, when 
visiting Marblehcad, in Massachusetts, the 
marquis manifested much curiosity at so 
many ladies being mingled with the male 
citizens, who had been dejiuted to receive 
him. The spokesman of the occasion, 
perceiving the pleasant surprise of the 
marquis at this jieculiar feature, said to 
him — 

"These are the widows of those who 
perished in tlie revolutionary war, and the 
mothers of children for whose liberty you, 
illustrious sir ! have contended in the field 
of battle. They are now here in the 
places of their husbands, many of whom 
were once known to you." 

It may here be remarked, that Marble- 
head was the " banner town " for furnish- 
ing soldiers, in the revolutionary war, 
there being a larger proportion to the 
whole number of inhabitants from that 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



277 



town than any other place in the United 
States. Tlie Britisli armed vessels hover- 
ing on the coast destroyed the coasting 
and fisliing business, and thus the loss of 
men in the war fell heavily upon the small 
seaport towns ; for, being out of employ- 
ment, nearly all the young and old men 
shouldered their muskets and joined the 
army. 

At Philadelphia he was welcomed with 
almost idolizing enthusiasm; for tender 
and thrilling indeed were the associations 
which linked together the history of the 
past and present of that citj^, in the person 
and services of Lafayette ; the hospitali- 
ties of the state were ajipropriately dis- 
pensed by Governor Shultze. On landing 
at Baltimore, he was conducted to the 
'tent of Washington,' and the freedom of 
the state and city conferred upon him in 
an address by Governor Stevens. For 
some time Lafayette could not pi-ecisely 
understand the compliment conveyed in 
the selection of the tent — especially one of 
that construction — for 
such proceedings. It 
was soon made plain, 
however, for, glancing 
around, he recognized 




ton's personal equipage 
during the war ; and 
turning to one near 



him, he said, in a voice tremulous with emo- 
tion, "/ remember!" Proceeding to 
Washington, Lafayette was received with 
open arms by President Monroe, at the 
executive mansion. Congress had just 
assembled in regular session, at the ca]iitol. 
He was introduced to both houses, and was 
formally and elegantly addressed by Mr. 
Clay, speaker of the house of rei)resenta- 
tives, the two branches unanimously unit- 
ing in their legislative honors to the 
nation's guest. At this session the sum 
of two hundred thousand dollars, together 
with a township, consisting of twenty- 
four thousand acres of fertile land, was 
voted \iy congress to General Lafaj'ette, as 
an expression of the grateful memory with 
which the people of America regarded his 
services in their behalf. A few of the 
members felt themselves constrained, from 
some doubts respecting its constitution- 
ality, to vote against this a]ipropriation. 
Lafayette, taking one of them by the 
hand, said to him with considerable feel- 
ing: 

" I appreciate your views. If I had 
been a member, I should have voted with 
you, not only because I partake of the sen- 
timents which determined j'our votes, but 
also because I think that the American 
nation has done too much for me." 
Most characteristic of Lafayette's 
iterestedness and magnanim- 
vas that remark ! 
t this time. Governor Pleas- 
was chief magistrate of the 
! Dominion,' and warmly wel- 
comed the na- 
V tion's guest. The 
21 f- emotions expert- 
ly, enced by Lafaj-- 
ette, as he once 
'' more trod the bat- 
tle-fields of Vir- 
■- ginia, can of 
\ course hardly be 
described. \ ork- 
town, distinguish- 
surrender of Cornwallis, 
gave the finishing blow 
presented a vast field 



RESIDENCE. 



ed for the 
which event 
to the war, 



278 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



of tents at the reception of Lafaj'ette. 
The same house occupied by Cornwallis, as 
liis hea(l-<]iiiiiters in 1781, was still stand- 
ing. The general appearance of the place 
gave evidence of a deserted village. The 
houses of yore, which had been riddled 
with balls and blackened with smoke, still 
retained the marks of battle. In many 
parts of the ground were seen broken 
shells, and gun-carriages, with various 
implements of war, — some on rocks, and 
others half buried in the earth ; every 
arrangement having been made to give the 
town, on Lafayette's arrival, the appear- 
ance of a pliice taken and occupied after a 
severe contest in battle. One of the tents 
erected on this occasion, was the one used 
by Washington at the time of the siege, 
together with others whii'h liad furnished 
teniijorary apartments for weary soldiers 
during the eventful campaign. An arch, 
bearing the names of Lafayette, Hamilton, 
and Laurens, was erected on the very spot 
where the redoubt stood which was stormed 
by Lafayette ; an obelisk was also erected, 
bearing the names of distinguished French- 
men. And on the same spot it is said 
that the orator of the occasion was design- 
ing, at the close of his address, to place a 
blended civic crown and national wreath 
in honor of Lafayette, who, while he 
acknowledged the unique compliment, 
gracefully averted its consummation, and, 
taking the symbolic garland in his hand, 
called for Colonel Fish, the only survivor 
of the attack upon the redoubt, and 
declared that half the honor belonged to 
him. Washington's marquee was erected 
on the plain, just out of the village. Be- 
ing escorted to this tent, Lafayette gave 
an affecting welcome to the officers of the 
militia. Two old veterans were there, who 
had faced the enemj' in war, and stood firm 
in the midst of the roar of the cannon ; 
but as they pressed the hand of Lafayette 
on this occasion, the old heroes wept and 
fainted. Some of the servants who were 
present discovered in an obscure corner of 
a cellar a large box of candles, bearing 
marks of Itclonging to Cornwallis's military 
stores — having remained undisturbed for 



forty-three years. They were lighted for 

the evening, and notwithstanding the 
fatigues of the day, some of the old soldiers 
remained till the last vestige of these Brit- 
ish candles had expired in the sockets. 

Taking Caniden, South Carolina — Gov- 
ernor Richard J. Manning, — in his tour, 
Lafayette assisted in laying the corner- 
stone of a monument erected to the name 
and memory of Baron de Kalb, a German 
by birth, who came over in the same vessel 
with Laf.iyette, in 1776, and volunteered 
his services in the American army for 
three years. He fell while bravely en- 
gaged in the battle at Camden, pierced 
with eleven deadly wounds. It is said 
that Washington, visiting the baron's 
grave many years after his death, sighed 
as he looked ujwn it, and exclaimed, 
"There lies the brave De Kalb, the gener- 
ous stranger, who came from a distant 
land to fight our battles, and to water with 
his blood the tree of Liberty. Would to 
God he had lived to share with us in its 
fruits ! " At Savannah, Georgia, after 
being welcomed by Governor Troup, Lafay- 
ette united in the same service commemor- 
ative of Generals Greene and Pulaski. 
On the seventeenth of June, Lafayette 
witnessed the laying of the corner-stone of 
Bunker Hill monument, at Charlestown, 
Massachusetts ; he was the only surviving 
major-general of the revolution who was 
present at this ceremony. Colonel Francis 
K. Huger participated in the patriotic 
services — the man who, when a lad, walked 
with Lafayette over his father's grounds, 
and who, some thirty years before this 
seventeenth of June, risked his life in 
attempting to aid the escape of Lafayette 
from the castle of Olniutz. The people of 
Charlestown not only welcomed Huger, 
but gave him a seat by the side of Lafay- 
ette, in the carriage which moved in the 
procession, and also one near him at the 
festive board. Daniel Webster was the 
orator for the day ; it was the fiftieth anni- 
versary of the battle; and everything con- 
spired to render the day memorable. As 
the procession passed, Lafayette was con- 
tinually hailed with demonstrations of love 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



279 



and gratitude. The proce.ssion was sev- 
eral miles long, and, on arriving at the his- 
toric spot, the impressive rite of laying the 
corner-stone was performed by the grand 
master of the Freemasons, the president of 




LAFAYETTE'S BIRTHPLA<;K. 



the Monument Association, and General 
Lafaj'ette, in the presence of a vast con- 
course of people. The assembly then 
moved to a spacious amphitheatre, where 
the oration was pronounced bj- ISIr. Web- 
ster, before as great a multitude as was 
ever, perhaps, assembled within the sound 
of a human voice. 

There was one place — Kaskaskia, on the 
route of Lafayette's tour, at which, though 
no preparations had been made to receive 
him, he paused a short time ; and here it 
was that a most affecting incident oc- 
curred. Curiosity induced one of his com- 
panions to go and look at an Indian 
encampment, a short distance from the 
town. He there met with an educated 
Indian woman, who spoke the French lan- 
guage tolerably well, and who expressed a 
desire to see Lafayette, and to show him a 
relic which she always carried with her, 
and which was "very dear to her." She 
wished to show it to Lafayette, as proof of 
the veneration with which his name was 
regarded among their tribes. It was a 
letter written by Lafavette in 1778, and 
addressed to her father, Panisciowa, a 



chief of one of the six nations. This letter 
expressed the hearty thanks of Lafayette 
for the faithful services of that chief in the 
American cause. The name of this onlj' 
child of the old chief was Mary, who, at 
the decease of her mother, was 
placed undci the care of an 
Vmeuian igent, by whom she 
\\ IS in-^tuutcd and kindly treat- 
ed She bt( ime a Christian. As 
she was \^alkiiig out in the for- 
est, about five 
vears after, an 
iidian warrior 
\cvtook her and 
informed her that 
her father was dy- 
ing, and wished 
to see her. She 
soon started off, 
traveled all night, 
and in the morn- 
ing reached his 
hut, which was 
situated in a narrow valle}'. As she came to 
his bedside, he took from his pouch a paper 
wrapped in a drj- skin, and gave it to her, 
with a charge to preserve it as a precious 
gift, saying: "It is a powerful charm to 
interest the pale-faces in your favor. I 
received it from a great French warrior, 
whom the English dreaded as much as the 
Americans loved him, and with whom I 
fought in my youth." The chief died the 
next day. Marj- returned to her white 
friends, and soon after married the young 
warrior, who was her father's friend and 
companion. She had the pleasure of 
showing the letter to Lafaj-ette, who rec- 
ognized it, and listened with great respect 
and deep feeling to her touching story. 

Another most interesting episode was that 
which transpired at Lafayette's reception 
in Nashville, Tenn., Governor Carroll pre- 
siding at the state ceremonies. There had 
come from different parts of the country 
about forty officers and .soldiers of the rev- 
olution. Among the number was an aged 
man who had traveled one hundred and 
fifty miles. His name was Haguy, a 
German, and he was one of those who 



280 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



embarked in the same vessel witli Lafay- 
ette for this country, nearly fifty years 
back, and served under liini during the 
whole war. The old veteran, clasping 
Lafa^'ette's hand with affectionate 
warmth, the tears rolling down his 
cheeks, said : 

"I have come man^' miles to see tlie 
'young general.' I have had two hajijn' 
days in my life — one, when I landed with 
you on tlie American coast, nearly tift^- 
3'ears ago, and to-day when I see your face 
again. 1 have lived long enougli."' The 
sensation produce<l by this scene, in that 
great throng, was for a time completelj- 
overpowering. 

Not less interesting was tlie interview, 
at Buffalo, between Lafa^-ette and ' Red 
Jacket,' the old chief of the Seneca tribe 
of Indians. Tliey hail both met in council 
at Fort Schuyler, in 1784. Red Jacket, 
in conversation with (.ieneral Lafayette, 
made some allusions to that famous coun- 
cil, and to these who participated in its 
proceedings, when Lafayette incjuircd with 
some curiosity — 

"Where is the young warrior, I wonder, 
who opposed the burying of the toma- 
hawk ? " 

" He is here before j'ou," instantly re- 
plied the aged chief. 

"Ah, I see," replied the general, "time 
has changed us. We were once young 
and active." 

"But," said the chiif, "time has made 
less change on you tli;iM nn me." 

Saying this lie uncovered his head, and 
e.\hibited his entire bahlness. The gen- 
eral wore a wig, and, not wishing to 
deceive Red Jacket, took it from his head, 
to the no small amusement of the aston- 
ished Indian. 

A visit to the tomb of W^ashington was 
one of the most notable events in Lafay- 
ette's tour. His arrival there was an- 
nounced bj' the firing of cannon, which 
brought to his memory the din of war, — 
the scenes of the revolution, — when he, 
with the great but now lifeless chieftain, 
were side by side in battle. Standing for 
awhile upon the consecrated ground and 



amidst the solemn stillness of the place, 
he descended alone into the tomb with his 
head uncovered. There lie remained in 
solitary contemplation for some time — the 
living aged veteran communing with the 
illustrious dead. He returned with his 
face batlied in tears, and, taking his son 
and Levasseur, the secretar}-, by the liand, 
led them into the tomb. He could not 
sjieak, but pointed mutely to the coffin of 
Washington. They knelt reverently by 
it, kissed it, and, rising, threw themselves 
into the arms of Lafayette, and for a few 
moments wept in silence. Lafayette was 
now presented, by the hand of Mr. Custis, 
one of the surviving family connections of 
Washington, with a massive linger-ring 
containing a portion of tlie hair of his 
dej)arted friend. He was also the recipi- 
ent of some other ]iersonal memorials of 
the "Father of his Country." 

During this tour Lafayette visited every 
one of the twenty-four states of the Union, 
and traveled over live thousand miles. In 
nearly every region which he visited, 
towns or counties, and literary, scientific 
or civile associations, named in honor of 
him, still preserve his memory. Indeed, 
one of the foremost of the great colleges of 
the Middle states dates from tlie same 
period. At Easton, in Pennsylvania, 
the citizens convened on the 27 th of 
December, 1824, and resolved to estab- 
lish L.\FAYETTE College, an eminent 
institution of learning, in memory of 
and " as a testimony of respect for the 
talents, virtues and signal sevices, of 
General Lafayette, in the great cause of 
Freedom." 

When the time which he had allotted 
for his tour had expired, Lafayette re- 
paired to Washington, to pay his parting 
respects to the chief magistrate of the 
nation, John Quincy Adams, who had suc- 
ceeded President Monroe. This took 
jilace at the presidential mansion, on the 
sixth of September, 1825. Tlie farewell 
address from the president, in behalf of 
the whole American people, was a most 
affecting tribute to the lofty character and 
patriotic services of Lafayette, during his 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



281 



long and eventful career, and closed with 
the following words : 

" You are ours by that unshaken senti- 
ment of gratitude for j'our services which 
is a precious portion of our inheritance; 
ours by that tie of love, stronger than 
death, which has linked your name for the 
endless ages of time with the name of 
Washington. At the painful moment of 




^•'•3' 



paiting \Mtli jou 
we take comfort 
in the thought 
that, wherever you may be, to the last pul- 
sation of your heart, our country will ever 
be present to your affections ; and a cheer- 
ing consolatiou assures us that we are not 



called to sorrow — most of all, that we 
shall see your face no more, — for we 
shall indulge the pleasing anticipation 
of beholding our friend again. In the 
name of the whole people of the United 
States, I bid you a reluctant and affec- 
tionate- farewell." 

To this parting address from the lips of 
the nation's distinguished chief magistrate, 
Lafayette replied in a strain of patriotic 
and impassioned eloquence never to be 
forgotten. 

On the same day he embarked for 
France, on board the Brandywine, a new 
frigate, named 
thus in compli- 
ment to Lafaj'- 
ette, who, on the 
banks of that riv- 
er, was wounded 
in his first battle 
for American 
freedom. In the 
whole range of 
history, ancient 
or modern, there 
is no instance of 
similar honors being paid to any hero, bj'' 
the united and spontaneous will of a great 
people ; and when, nine years after, he paid 
the debt of nature, that same great people 
gave vent to universal grief, and every 
tongue spoke words of eulogy to the mem- 
ory of America's most illustrious friend. 



XXX. 

DUEL BETWEEN HENRY CLAY, SECRETARY OF STATE, 
AND JOHN RANDOLPH, UNITED STATES SENA- 
TOR FROM VIRGINIA.— 1826. 



Randolph's Bittpr Insult to CIny on the Floor of the Senate. — Accuses Him of Falsifying an f^fficial 
Docunit-nt. — Tlie Puritan and "IJIacklc);" Taunt. — Clay Challenges the Senator to Mortal Com- 
hat. — Words and Acts of these Two Foremost Men of their Times, on the " Field of Honor." — 
Result of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of these Party Leaders.— Ancient Political Antagonists — 
Origin of the Present Dispute. — Handolph's Gift of Sarcasm.— Applies it Severely to Clay. — Clay 
Demands Satisfaction. — Reconciliation Refused — Bladensburg the Dueling-Ground — Pistols the 
Weapons Chosen.— Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend.— Incidents the Night Before. — Randolph's 
Secret Resolve — Going to the Field of Blood. — View of this Shrine of " Chivalry." — Salutations of 
the Combatants. — Solemn Interest of the Scene —Distance Ten Paces. — A Harmless Exchange of 
Shots. — Clay Calls it "Child's Play!" — Another Fire — No Injury.— " Honor " Satisfied — Pleasant 
Talk with Each Other. 



** I would not have ee«n him fbll mortallr, or even (loubtf\in>-, wounded, for &I1 the Und that l> witcrtd hj the King of FIcoda and ill 
bii tributary tlrctm*."— Rakpolph to Blwto. 

"I tniit inUod.mydear air, 70U ore untouched 1 after whet haa occurred.I would DOtbaTe tunned 70U for a tllooaaDd worlda."— 
Clat TO Ranuulpo 




T would be needless, at this point of time, to recount 
tlie cinumstauces of tliat long and bitter aiitago- 
nisni wliiih characterized the relations, in political 
life, between the renowned and eccentric John 
Randolph and the equally famous and brilliant 
Henry Clay. This antagonism, after the accession 
to the department of state by Mr. Clay, under the 
presidency of John Quincy Adams, acquired addi- 
tional violence, and finally led to a hostile encoun- 
ter, under the following circumstances : The presi- 
PRELiMixARiEs OF THE " CODE OF Hosoii." dent had scnt in a message to the senate, on the 
subject of the Panama mission. A motion was made in the senate for a call upon (he 
president for further information. In response to this the president answered by a 
message, with the tone of which Randolph was greatly displeased, and, in his place in 
the senate, bitterly denounced it and its authors, President Adams and his secretary, 
Mr. Clay. Alluding to one passage in particular, in the president's message, Randolph 
was reported as saying : "Here I plant my foot; here I fling defiance right into his 
teeth ; here I throw the g.auntlet to him, and the bravest of his compeers, to come 
forward and defend these lines." And he concluded his speech with the sentence : 



■II 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



283 



\ 



"I was defeated, horse, foot, and dragoons 
— cut up, clean broke down by the coali- 
tion of Elifil and Black George — by the 
combination unheard of till then, of the 
Puritan icith the BlacMe.ij." But, what 
was most pointed, perhaps, than anything 
else, in this assault njion Mr. Clay's honor, 
was Randolph's statement, " that a letter 
from General Salazar, the Mexican min- 
ister at Washington, submitted by the 
executive to the senate, bore the ear-mark 
of having been manufactured or forged by 
the secretary of state." 

Mr. Clay smarted under the stigma of 
these charges. He demanded explana- 
tions. These being refused, Clay at once 
sent a challenge, which Randolph accepted. 
The seconds, however, chosen by the dis- 
tinguished principals, determined to at- 
temjit an accommodation, or a peaceable 
termination of the difficulty. But Ran- 
dolph, though modifying the unrevised 
and somewhat inaccurate report of his 
speech which had gone forth, refused to 
explain, out of the senate, the words he 
had used within it. Clay was peremptory 
with Randolph, on the point of honor, as 
he had also been witli Humphrey Mar- 
shall, in 1808, whom the brilliant Ken- 
tuckian challenged and fought. Though 
bad enough, both personally and politically, 
these duels of the great Kentuckian will 
at least compare favorably with the later 
duel between Graves of Kentucky, and 
Cilley of Maine, in which Webb, the New 
York journalist, bore so prominent a part. 

It being certain that there was no hope 
of reconciliation, the seconds proceeded to 
arrange for the duel. The afternoon of 
Saturday, April eighth, 1826, was fixed 
upon for the time, — the right bank of the 
Potomac, within the state of Virginia, 
above the Little Falls bridge, was the 
place, — pistols the weapons, distance ten 
paces, — each party to be attended by two 
seconds and a surgeon, and Senator Ben- 
ton to be present as a mutual friend. 
There was to be no practicing with pistols, 
and there was none; and the words, ' One, 
two, three, — stop,' after the word ' Fire,' 
were, by agreement between the seconds 



and for the humane purpose of reducing 
the result as near as possible to chance, to 
be given out in quick succession. The 
Virginia side of the Potomac was taken, 
according to Mr. Benton's account of the 
duel, at the instance of Mr. Randolph. 
He went out as a Virginia senator, refus- 
ing to compromise that character, and, if 
he fell in defense of what he deemed to 
be its rights, Virginia soil was to him the 
chosen ground to receive his blood. There 
was a statute of the state against dueling 
within her limits ; but as he merely went 
out to receive a fire without returning it 
he deemed that no fighting, and conse- 
quentl3' no breach of her statute. 

The week's dclaj', which the seconds 
had contrived, was about expiring. It was 
Friday night, when Mr Benton went to 
see Mr. Clay for the last time before the 
duel. There had been some alienation 
between the two since the time of the 
presidential election in the house of repre- 
sentatives, and the senator desired to show 
Mr. Clay that there was nothing personal 
in it. The family (sa3's Mr. Benton) were 
in the parlor, — company present, — and 
some of it staid late. The youngest child 
went to sleep on the sofa, — a circumstance 
which availed me for the next day. Mrs. 
Cliiy was, as alwaj-s after the death of her 
daughters, the picture of desolation, but 
calm, conversable, and without the slight- 
est apparent consciousness of the impend- 
ing event. When ,all were gone, and she 
also had left the parlor, I did what I came 
for, and said to Mr. Clay that, notwith- 
standing our late political differences, my 
personal feelings were the same towards 
him as formerly', and that, in whatever 
concerned his life or honor, my best wishes 
were with him. He expressed his gratifi- 
cation at the visit and the declaration, and 
said it was what he would have expected 
of me. We parted at midnight. 

Mr. Benton's account continues as fol- 
lows : Saturday, the 8th of April, 1826, 
— the day for the duel, — had come, and 
almost the hour. It was noon, and the 
meeting was to take place at half-past four 
o'clock. I had gone to see Mr. Randolph 



284 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



before the lioiir, and for ;i purpose. I liad 
heard iKitliiiig from liiiii on tlie i>oiiit of 
not returning tlie fire, since the first coni- 
muuication to that effect, ei<;ht days be- 
fore. I liad no reason to doulit the steadi- 
ness of Iiis determination ; l)ut felt a 
desire to Iiave some fresli assurance of it 
after so many daj's' delay, and so near 
approach of the trj'ing moment. I knew 
it would not do to ask liini the question, — 
any question that would imply a doubt of 
his word. So I fell upon a scheme to get 
at the inquiry without seeming to make 
it. I told him of my visit to Mrs. Clay 
the night before. — of the late sitting, — the 
child u.sleep, — the unconscious tranquillity 




cL^. 



'1 



of Mrs. Clay ; and added, I could not help 
reflecting how different all that might be 
the next night. He understood me per- 
fectly, and immediately said, with a 
quietude of look and e.xpression which 
seemed to rebuke an unworth.v doubt, — 

" I shall do nothing to disturb the sleep 
of the child or the repose of the mother." 

Mr. Randolph at the same time went 
on with his erai)loyment — his seconds 



being engaged in their preparations in a 
different room, — which was, making codi- 
cils to his will, all in the way of remem- 
brance to frii-ii<l.-i ; the bequests slight in 
value, but invaluable in tenderness of 
feeling and l>cauty of exj>ression, and 
always appropriate to the receiver. To 
Jlr. Macon, he gave some English sliil- 
lings, to keep the game wlien he jilayed 
whist. His namesake, John Randolpli 
liryan, then at .•<chot)l in ISaltiniore, and 
afterwards married to his niece, was sent 
for to see him, but sent off before the hour 
for going out, to save the boy from a pos- 
sible shock of seeing him brought back. 
He wanted some gold, — that coin not 
being then in circulation, and only to be 
obtained by favor or purchase, — and sent 
his faithful man. Johnny, to the United 
States Branch Uank, to get a few pieces, — 
American being the kin<l asked for. 
Johnny returned without the gold, and 
delivered the excuse that the bank had 
none. Instantly his clear silver-toned 
voice was heard above its natural pitch, 
exclaiming: "Their name is legion I and 
they are liars from the beginning. Johnnj-, 
briitg me my hor.se." His own saddle- 
horse was brought him, for he never rode 
Johnny's, nor Johnny liis, though both, 
and all his hundred horses, were of tlie 
finest English bloo<l ; and he rode off to 
the bank, down Pennsylvania avenue, 
Jolinny following, as alwa3-s, forty paces 
behind. Arrived at the bank, the follow- 
ing scene transpired. Mr. Kandoljih asked 
for the state of liis account, was shown it, 
and found it to be some four thousand dol- 
lars in his favor. He asked for it. The 
teller took up packages of biil.s, and civilly 
asked in what sized notes he would have 
it. " I want moiiei/," said Mr. Randol[ih, 
putting emphasis on the word ; and at that 
time it required a bold man to intim.ite 
that United States Bank notes were not 
money. The teller, beginning to iinder- 
stand him, and willing to make sure, said, 
inquiringly : 

" You want silver ? " 

" I want my moneij" was the reply. 

"Have you a cart, Mr. Randol]d), to 



GREAT AND MEMOPwVBLE EVENTS. 



285 



put it in ?" said the teller, politelj', lifting 
boxes to the counter. 

" That is my business, sir," answered 
Randolph. 

By this time, the attention of the cashier 
was attracted to what was going on, who 
came up, and, understanding the question 
and its cause, told Mr. Randolph there 
was a mistake in the answer given to his 
servant ; that they had gold, and he should 
have what he wanted. In fact, he had 
only applied for a few pieces, which he 
wanted for a special purpose. This brought 
about a compromise. The pieces of gold 
were received, — the cart and the silver 
dispensed with. 

On returning, Randoljjh handed a sealed 
paper to Mr. Benton, which the latter was 
to open in case Randolph was killed, — 
give back to him if he was not ; also 
an open slip, which that senator was to 
read before he got to the ground. This 
slip was a request to feel in his left 
breeches' pocket, if he was killed, and find 
so many pieces of gold, — Mr. Benton to 
take three for himself, and give the same 
number to Tatnall and Hamilton each, to 
make seals to wear in remembrance of ^jim. 
He also remembered his friend Macon. 
They were all three at Mr. Randolph's 
lodgings, then, and soon set out, — Mr. 
Randolpli and his seconds in a carriage, 
and Mr. Benton following him on horse- 
baclc. 

As has already been stated, the count 
was to be quick after giving the word 'Fire,' 
and for a reason which could not be told 
to the principals. To Mr. Randolph, who 
did not mean to fire, and who, though 
agreeing to be shot at, had no desire to be 
hit, this rapidity of counting out the time, 
and quick arrival of the command ' Stop,' 
presented no objection. With ]\Ir. Clay 
it was different. With him it was all a 
real transaction, and gave rise to some 
proposal for more deliberateness in count- 
ingoff the time, which being communicated 
to Colonel Tatnall, (Randolph's friend,) 
and by him to Mr. Randolph, liad an ill 
effect upon his feelings, and, aided by an 
untoward accident on the ground, unset- 



tled for a moment the noble determination 
which he had formed not to fire at Mr. 
Clay. General Jesup (Clay's friend,) 
states, tliat, when he repeated to Mr. Clay 
the 'word' in the manner in which it 
would be given, Mr. Clay expressed some 
apprehension that, as he was not accus- 
tomed to the use of the pistol, he might 
not be able to fire within the time, and 
for that reason alone desired that it might 
be prolonged. This desire of Mr. Clay 
was mentioned, on his behalf, to Colonel 
Tatnall, who replied, "If j-ou insist upon 
it, the time must be prolonged, but I should 
very much regret it." The original agree- 
ment was carried out. Mr. Benton, how- 
ever, states that he himself knew nothing 
of all this, until it was too late to speak 
with the seconds or principals, he having 
crossed the Little Falls bridge just after 
them, and come to the place where the serv- 
ants and carriages had stopped. He saw 
none of the gentlemen, and supposed they 
had all gone to the spot where the ground 
was being marked off; but on speaking to 
Johnny, Mr. Randolph, who was still in 
his carriage, and heard the voice, looked 
out from the window and said to Colonel 
Benton — 

" Colonel, since I saw you, and since I 
have been in this carriage, I have heard 
something which may make me change 
my determination. Colonel Hamilton will 
give you a note which will explain it." 

Colonel Hamilton was then in the car- 
riage, and in the course of the evening 
gave to Colonel Benton the note, of which 
Mr. Randolph spoke. Colonel Benton 
readily comprehended that this possible 
change of determination related to Ran- 
dolph's firing ; but the emphasis with 
which he pronounced the word ' ma;/,' 
clearly showed that his mind was unde- 
cided, and left it doubtful wlietber he 
would fire or not. No further conversa- 
tion, however, took place between them — 
the preparations for the duel were finished 
— the parties went to their places. 

The place was a thick forest, and the 
immediate spot a little depression, or 
basin, in which the parties stood. Not 



286 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



far west of Bladcnsbiir}^, just Leyoiul the 
line wliicli .';cparatc's the federal city from 
the state of Maryland, a short distance off 
the road from Washington, is this dueling- 
ground, — a dingle, embosomed in a sun- 
burnt amphitheatre of trees, secluded, and 
from associations, no less than location, a 
dismal shrine, consecrated to human sacri- 
fices. On this sjiot, not long before the 
battle of BlaJensburg in the second war 
with England, a United States secretary 
of the treasury shot his antagonist, Mr. 
Gardenier, through the body, both mem- 
bers of congress, in a partj' duel. Deca- 
tur, surrounded by brother naval officers, 
fell there. A senator-of the United States 
lost his life there, horribly fighting with 
muskets at pistol distance. Other vic- 
tims to the vanit}' of honor, so called, have 
lost or staked their lives on this field of 
blood. 

Hut never before, on tliat fatal field, 
was any scene enacted, comparable with 
that which was to witness a mortal con- 
test between Henry Clay and John Kan- 
dolpli. Not too highly has the grapliic 
delineator of these d raiiidtls pcvsomv Q\v. 
Baldwin, in his "Party Leaders,") drawn 
the picture, in saying that there xtood on 
the hanks of the Potomac, on that bright 
April evening, as the sun was declining 
behind the high hills of Virginia, in the 
attitude of combatants, two men, around 
whom, gathered, probabhj, a more stirring 
interest, than around any other two men 
in the Union. And yet, their jiolitical 
opinions and personal history were as 
opposite as their persons, when they stood 
in their places. Against any and all 
insinuations of i-orrn])tion, ]Mr. Clay might 
safely have left his reputation with the 
people. His splendid services as peace 
commissioner to Europe, with such col- 
leagues as Bayard, tJ.illatin, Ku.ssell and 
Adams ; his long period of statesman-like 
service in the house of representatives, 
succeeding repeatedly to the chair that 
had been dignified by Muhlenberg, Trum- 
bull, Dayton, Varnum, Cheves, and Bar- 
bour, — this his record should have suf- 
ficed for bis honor. 



The two were alike only in chivalry of 
bearing, integrity and independence of 
character, genius and pride. The}' had 
to all ajipearance met now to fight to the 
death with physical weapons, as they had 
met so often before, to do battle with the 
weapons of intellectual warfare. Their 
opposition had been unceasing. Each 
looked upon the other as, if not the ablest, 
at least as the most annoying and dreaded 
opponent of his political principles and 
j)ersonal aims. They were, in early life, 
and to some extent, still, representatives 




of different phases of American society. 
Kandol|>h, born to affluence ; descended 
from a long and honored line ; accustomed 
always to wealth, family influence, and the 
pride of aristocracy and official position. 
Clay, on the other hand, born in obscurity, 
of lunnble j>arentage — the first man of bis 
family known out of his county — "the 
mill-boy of the Slashes;" but winning 
his way and rising rapidly, by his boldness 
and talents, to the very summit of public 
station and influence, so as to be styled 
the "Great Commoner;" — these were the 
two men, alike in splendid gifts of intel- 
lect, yet so unlike in character and circum- 
stance, who now, weapon in hand, stood 
opjiosed in deadly conflict. 

As they took their stands, the princi- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



287 



pals saluted eacli other courteously, accord- 
ing to the usage of the ' code.' Colonel 
Tatnall liad won the choice of position, 
which gave to General Jesup the deliver^' 
of the word. They stood on a line east 
and west ; tliere was a small stump just 
behind Mr. Clay, and a low gravelly bank 
rose just behind Mr. Randolph. The 
latter asked General Jesup to repeat the 
word as he would give it ; and while in 
the act of doing so, and Mr. Randolph 
adjusting the butt of his pistol to his 
hand, the muzzle jiointing downwards, and 
almost to the ground, it fired. Instantly 
Mr. Randolph turned to Colonel Tatnall, 
and said, " I protested against that hair 
trigger." 

Colonel Tatnall took blame to himself 
for having sprung the hair. Mr. Clay 
had not then received his iiistol. Mr. 
Johnson, one of his seconds, was earr^-ing 
it to him, and still several steps from him. 
This untimely fire, though clearly an acci- 
dent, necessarily gave rise to some re- 
marks, and a species of inquiry, which 
was conducted with the utmost delicacy, 
but which, in itself, was of a nature to be 
inexpressibly painful to a gentleman's 
feelings. Mr. Clay stopped it with the 
generous remark that the fire was clearly 
an accident, and it was so unanimously 
declared. Another pistol was immediately 
furnished ; an exchange of shots took 
place, and, happily, without effect upon 
the persons. Mr. Randolph's bullet struck 
the stump behind Mr. Clay, and Mr. Clay's 
knocked up the earth and gravel behind 
Mr. Randolph, and in a line with the level 
of his hips, both bullets having gone so 
true and close, that it was a marvel how 
the}' missed. 

The moment had now arrived when 
Colonel Benton felt that he could inter- 
pose. He accordingly went in among the 
parties, and offered his mediation. Noth- 
ing, however, could be done. Mr. Clay 
said, with that wave of the hand with 
which he was accustomed to put awaj' a 
trifle, " This is child's play ! " and required 
another fire. Mr. Randolph also demanded 
another fire. The seconds were directed 



to reload. While this was doing, Colonel 
Benton prevailed on Mr. Randolph to 
walk away from his post, and importuned 
him, more pressingly than ever, to yield to 
some accommodation. The colonel found 
him, however, more determined than ever 
before, and for the first time impatient, 
and seemingly annoyed and dissatisfied at 
such approaches. The accidental fire of 
his pistol ])reyed upon his feelings. He 
was doubly chagrined at it, both as a cir- 
cumstance susceptible in itself of an unfair 
interpretation, and as having been the 
immediate and controlling cause of his fir- 
ing at Mr. Claj-. He regretted this fire 
the instant it was over. He felt that it 
had subjected him to imputations from 
which he knew himself to be free, — a 
desire to kill Mr. Claj-, and a contempt for 
the laws of his state ; and the annoyances 
which he felt at these vexatious circum- 
stances revived his original determination, 
and decided him irrevocably to carry it 
out. 

It was in this interval that Mr. Ran- 
dolph told Colonel Benton what ho had 
heard since they parted, and to which he 
alluded when speaking from the window 
of the carriage. It was to this effect : 
that he had been informed by Colonel 
Tatnall, that it was proposed to give out 
the words with more deliberateness, so as 
to prolong the time for taking aim. This 
information grated harshly ujjon his 
feelings. It unsettled his purpose, 
and brought his mind to the inquiry 
expressed in the following note, which 
he had immediately written in pencil, 
to apprise Colonel Benton of his possible 
change : 

" Information received from Colonel 
Tatnall since I got into the carriage 7nai/ 
induce me to change my mind of not 
returning Mr. Clay's fire. I seek not his 
death. I would not have his blood upon 
my hands — it will not be upon my soul if 
shed in self-defense — for the world. He 
has determined, by the use of a long, i>re- 
paratory caution by words, to get time to 
kill me. May I not, then, disable him ? 
Yes, if I please." 



288 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Acconliiif; to the statement of General 
Jesup, already given, this 'information' 
was a misapprehension, Mr. Clay not hav- 
ing a[ipli<'il for a prolongation of time for 
the jmriio-se of getting sure aim, but only 
to enable liis unused hand, long unfa- 
miliar witli the pistol, to lire within the 
limited time. There was no prolongation, 
in fa(rt, either granted or insisted upon; 
but Mr. Randol[)h was in doubt, and Gen- 
eral Jesup having won the word, he was 
having him rej)uat it in the way he was 
to give it out, when his finger touched the 
hair trigger. The inquiry, ' May T not 
disable liim?' was still on Mr. Randolph's 
mind, and dependent for its solution on 
the rising incidents of the moment, when 
the accidental fire of his pistol, gave tlie 
turn to his feelings which solved tlie 



was to disable him, and spoil his aim. 
And then he added, with the deepest feel- 
ing— 

" I would not have seen him fall mor- 
tallij, or even doultfulhj, ii-ounded, for all 
the land that is watered by the Kiiif) of 
Floods and all his trilnitary sf reams." 

Saying this, Mr. Randolph left Colonel 
Benton to resume his post, utterly refusing 
to explain out of the senate anything that 
lie liad said in it, and with the positive 
declaration that he would not return the 
next fire. Colonel Benton concludes his 
reminiscences of this most remarkable 
affair, as follows: I withdrew a little wa}' 
into the woods, and kejit my eyes fixed 
upon IMr. Randolph, whom I then knew to 
bo the only one in danger. I saw him 
receive the fire of Mr. Clay, saw the 






Ci. 










DUELINO-OnOUND AT BLADEN8DURO. 



doubt. But ho afterwards declared to 
Colonel Benton, that he had not aimed at 
the life of Mr. Clay ; that he did not level 
as high as the knee — not higher than the 
knee-band, 'for it was no mercy to shoot 
a man in the knee;' that his only object 



gravel knocked up in the same place, saw 
Mr. Randolph raise his pistol, — tlischargo 
it into the air, — beard him say, " I do not 
fire at you, Mr. Ctny," — and immediately 
advancing, and offering his hand. He 
was met in the same spirit. They met 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTiS. 



289 



half-way, shook hands, Mr. Randolph saj'- 
ing jocosely, '' You owe me a coat, 3Ir. 
Clay," — (the bullet had passed through 
the skirt of the coat, very near the hip) 
— to wliich Mr. Clay promptly and hap- 
pily replied, " / am glad the debt is no 
greater." I had come up, and was prompt 
to proclaim what I had been obliged to 
keep secret for eight days. The joy of all 
was extreme at this happy termination of 
a most critical affair, and we immediately 
left, with lighter hearts than we brought. 
I stopped to sup with Mr. Randolph and 
his friends, — none of us wanted dinner, — 
and had a characteristic time of it. A 
runner came in from the bank, to say that 
they had overpaid him, by mistake, one 
hundred and thirty dollars that day. Mr. 
Randolph answered, '■ I believe it is your 
rule not to correct mistakes, except at the 
time and at your counter." And with 
that answer the runner had to return. 
When gone, Mr. Randolph said, "I will 
pay it on Monday ; people must be honest, 
if banks are not." He asked for the 
sealed paper he had given me, opened it, 
took out a check for one thousand dollars, 
drawn in my favor, and with which I was 
requested to have him carried, if killed, to 
Virginia, and buried under his patri- 
monial oaks, — not let him be buried at 
Washington, with an hundred hacks after 
him. He took the gold from his left 
breeches pocket, and said to us (Hamil- 
ton, Tatnall, and I), — 

" Gentlemen, Clay's bad shooting shan't 
rob you of your seals. I am going to 
London, and will have them made for 
you." 

This he did (says Colonel Benton), and 
most characteristically, so far as mine was 
concerned. He went to the heraldry office 
in London, and inquired for the Benton 
family, of which I had often told him 
there was none, as we only dated on that 
side from mj- grandfather in North Caro- 
lina. But the name was found, and with 
it a coat of arms, — among the quarterings 
a lion rampant. "This is the family," 
said he ; and liad the arms engraved on 
the seal. 

19 



The account given by General James 
Hamilton, of this duel, states that, in 
company with Colonel Tatnall, he repaired, 
at midnight, to Mr. Randolph's lodgings, 
and found him reading Milton's great 
poem. Eor some moments he did not pei'- 
mit them to say one word in relation to 
the approaching duel, for he at once com- 
menced one of those delightful criticisms 
on a passage of this poet, in which he was 
wont so enthusiastically to indulge. After 
a pause, Colonel Tatnall remarked : 

" Mr. Randoljjh, I am told you have 
determined not to return Mr. Clay's fire ; 
I must say to you, my dear sir, if I am 
only to go out to see you shot down, j'ou 
must find some other friend." 

"Well, Tatnall," said Mr. Randolph, 
after much conversation on the subject, " I 
promise you one thing ; if I see the devil 
in Clay's eye, and that, loith malice 2)ve- 
pense, he means to take my life, I m,ay 
change m.y mind." 

As the sequel showed, however, he saw 
no ' devil in Clay's eye,' but a man fear- 
less, and expressing the mingled sensi- 
bility and firmness pertaining to the 
occasion. For, whilst Tatnall was load- 
ing Mr. Randolph's pistol, Hamilton ap- 
proached Randolph, took his hand, — in 
the touch of which there was not the 
quivering of one pulsation, — and then, 
turning to Hamilton, Randolph said : 

" Clay is calm, but not vindictive ; I 
hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event; 
remember this." 

On Randolph's pistol going off without 
the word. General Jesup, Mr. Clay's 
friend, called out that he would instantly 
leave the ground with his friend, if that 
occurred again. On the word being 
given, Mr. Clay fired without effect, Mr. 
Randolph discharging his pistol in the 
air. On seeing this, Mr. Clay instantly 
approached Mr. Randolph, and with a gush 
of the deepest emotion, said, — 

" / trust in God, my dear sir, you are 
untouched ; after what has occurred, I 
would not have harmed you for a thou- 
sand ivoi'Ids .'" 

On the ensuing Monday, Mr. Clay and 



290 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



Mr. Raiidoliih formally cxclianpcd cards, 
and their relations of amity and courtesy 
were restored. 

Many of 'Mr. Clay's warmest political 
friends, at the north and west, deeply 
regretted that he should resort to what 
thev deemed so immoral and barbarous 
a mode of vindicating his character, as 
that of the duello. But this was soon 
forgotten, and his political career continued 
to be one of great brilliancy and power. 
He soon succeeded General John Adair, 
as senator from Kentucky; and again, in 
1831, was elected over Richard M. Joliii- 
son, to the same high post. He was dis- 



ajijjointed, however, in his aspirations for 
the presidency, though great enthusiasm 
was manifested for the ticket which, in 
1831. bore his name at its head, with John 
Sergeant for vice-president. The other 
political duels which have excited great 
interest in the public mind, during tlie 
century, were those of Lee and Laurens, 
Cadwallader and Conway, Guinnett and 
Mcintosh, Hamilton and Burr, DeWitt 
Clinton and Swartwout, Cilley and Graves, 
Broderick and Terr}'. General Jackson 
and Colonel Benton were also parties to 
several duels, the former killing Mr. 
Dickinspn, and the latter a Mr. Lucas. 



XXXI. 

FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY AND CELEBRATION OF THE 
INDEPENDENCE OF THE REPUBLIC— 1826. 



Sudden and Simultaneous Death of Ex-Presidents Jolin Adams and Tliomas Jefferson, its Two Most 
Illustrious Founders. — The Day of Resounding Joy and Jubilee Changed to One of Profound 
National Sorrow. — No Historical Parallel to Such a Remarkable Coincidence. — World-Renowned 
Career of these Statesmen. — Extraordinary Preparations for the Day. — Adams and Jefferson then 
Alive. — Sires and Patriarchs of the Nation. — Their Names Household Words. — Invited to Share 
in the Festivities. — They Hail the Glorious Morn. — Great Rejoicings, Death's Summons. — Jefferson's 
Distinguishing Honor. — Adams's Patriotic Luster. — Tlieir Imperishable Deeds — Calm yet High 
Enthusiasm. — Hostile Leaders in After-Life. — Racy and Piquant Anecdote. — Crisis Point in Adams's 
Fortunes. — His Last Toast for His Country, — " Independence Forever." — Two Sages in Old Age — 
Serenity, Wisdom, Dignity. — Former Friendship Revived. — Letters of Mutual Attachment. — Euro- 
pean Admiration Excited. — Reverence to their Colossal Fame. 



•' Such pass awny: but they leave 
All hope, or love, or truth, or L.IBERTT,— 
WlioBe forms their mighty epirita could conceive,— 
To be a rule and law to Eiiea that Burvive." 




'< OYOUS, painful, by sudden and strange transition, to the Ameri- 
can peoisle, was the Fourth of July, 1826, — the anniversary of the 
first half-century of their national existence, and, as it proved, the 
day on which the two chief founders of the republic passed, 
simultaneously', from the scenes of their earthly career to the 
repose and the rewards of another world ; — one of the most remarkable coincidences 
that has ever occurred in the history of nations. It was the half-centennial Jubilee of 
American Independence, and preparations had been made in every part of the Union to 
celebrate the august day with extraordinary demonstrations and observances. Jolm 
Adams and Thomas Jefferson, two illustrious sages, whose names and lives were pre- 
eminently identified witli the formation of the government, and, for so many years, 
with its historj' and administration, so much so as to have become household names 
everywhere, in the nation, were, on this most memorable day, — amid the rejoicings of 
the people, the peals of artillery, the strains of music, the exultations of a great 
nation in the enjoyment of freedom, peace, and happiness, — released from the toils 
of life. 

In the personal and public career of these two great patriots, there were many 
points of similarity. In the enumeration of these similarities by Mr. Webster, their 
eloquent eulogist, it appears that they belonged to the same profession, both 
being learned and able lawyers. They were natives and inhabitants, respectively, 
of those two of the colonies, Massachusetts and Virginia, which, at the time of the 



292 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



revolution, wcro tho largest ami most pow- 
erful, and wliicii naturally had a lead in 
the jiolitical affairs of the times. When 
the colonies became in some degree united, 
by the assembling of a general congress, 
they were brouglit, at an early period, to 
act togetlier in its deliberations. Each 
had already manifested his attachment to 
the cause of the country', as well as his 
ability to maintain it, by printed addresses, 
public speeches, extensive corresi>ondence, 
and whatever other mode could be adopted 
for the purpose of exposing the encroach- 
ments of the British parliament, and ani- 
mating the people to a manly resistance. 
Both were not only decided, but early, 
friends of independence. "While others 
yet doubted, tliey were resolved; where 
others hesitated, they pressed forward. 
They were both members of tlie committee 
for preparing the Declaration of Indeiicnd- 
ence, and they constituted the sub-com- 
mittee appointed by the other members to 



versary of American liberty — in the very 
midst of the festivities which commem- 
orated the nation's half-centennial jubilee ! 
Wherever the tidings of their decease 
could be flashed, on that eventful day, the 
voices of festivity and mirth were changed 
to those of wonder and mourning. 

Jefferson's imperishable renown consists 
in his having penned the Declaration of 
Independence, rather than in the fact of 
his having filled the highest offices, state 
and national, culminating with that of 
president of the republic. 

On the other hand, to have been fore- 
most among those who foresaw and broke 
the way for the birth of a new nation ; to 
have been the mover of numerous decisive 
acts, the undoubted precursors of the great 
consummation ; to have been among the 
many and towering spirits then engaged 
in defying the mightiest throne in Chris- 
tendom, by acknowledgment unsurpassed 
in zeal, and unequaled in ability ; to have 




llli: .li:ili;ltSON .MANSION AT MOMl 



make the draft. Jefferson was the author 
of that noblest production of statesman- 
ship ; Adams was its chief parliamentary 
expositor and triumphant advocate in the 
' assembly of the mighty.' They left their 
seats in congress, being called to other 
public employment, at periods not remote 
from each other. Both became j)ublic 
ministers abroad, both vice-presidents, and 
both presidents. All these remarkable 
j)arallels and coincidences were at last most 
singularly crowned ancl coMii>leted : They 
died together — and they died on the unni- 



been exclusively associated with the au- 
thor of the Declaration ; and then, with a 
fervid and overwhelming eloquence, to 
have taken the lead in inspiring the con- 
gress unanimously to adopt and proclaim 
it, — this is the glory of John Adams. 

Mr. Adams commenced the practice of 
the law in his native town of Quiucy. At 
the age of twenty-eight, he was married to 
Abigail Smith, a country clergyman's 
daughter, and an excellent woman with 
whom he lived in wedlock more than fifty 
years. At the aj,'e of thirty, he published 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



293 



a dissertation on Canon and Feudal Law, 
in which he explained the Puritan princi- 
ples of religion and government, and 
brought them to hear upon the disputes 
between Great Britain and the colonies. In 
1766, he removed to Boston. His profes- 
sional standing was now so high, that, in 
1768, Governor Bernard offered him the 
post of advocate-general of the court of 
admiraltJ^ But Mr. Adams had ranked 
himself decisively" with the friends of the 
people ; and had he accepted a lucrative 
office under the crown, although no condi- 
tions were annexed, his course would not 
have been the same as heretofore. In 
truth, the offer must have been intended 
quite as much to silence his political oppo- 
sition, as to secure his legal services. He 
therefore declined it, but gave a noble 
evidence, not long afterwards, that no base 
subserviency to the people, any more than 
to the government, could make him swerve 
from his own ideas of right. This truth 
was shown in 1770, bj' his conduct in ref- 
erence to the Boston massacre, as the 
following account will show. 

The scene of bloodshed in King street, 
Boston, was a natural consequence of the 
relative positions of the soldiery and the 
people. No good feeling could jDossibly 
exist between them. On the part of the 
troops, the haughty consciousness that 
Britain had made them keepers of the 
province, together with a sense of the 
odium in which they were held, produced 
a contemptuous antipathy towards the 
colonists. 

At the sight of their own blood, shed by 
a hireling soldiery, the ferment of the 
people became terrible, and was shared, 
for a time, by the calmest patriots in New 
England. A multitude, computed at ten 
or twelve thousand, assembled at Faneuil 
Hall, and adjourned thence to the Old 
South Church. There went a rumor, that 
the tragedy in King street had been pre- 
meditated, and was but the prelude to a 
general massacre. For defense against 
this exaggerated, yet not altogether shad- 
owy danger, a military guard was enrolled, 
and the town put itself under martial law. 



No British officer or soldier could have 
walked the streets with safety to his life. 

Such was the state of affairs, when John 
Adams, himself the foremost patriot of all, 
and a member of the people's militarj' 
guard, was solicited to undertake the 
defense of Captain Preston, and the sol- 
diers who had fired the fatal volley, against 
the charge of murder. It was a singular 
compliment to his integrity, that the 
imprisoned soldiers should have sought the 
aid of a man so situated. 

It does not appear that the confidence 
of Mr. Adams's countrymen in him was 
shaken by this act of personal and profes- 
sional indejiendence ; or, if so, it was only 
for the moment. In 1773, he was chosen 
a member of the provincial council, but 
was rejected by the tory Governor Hutch- 
inson, and afterwards hy General Gage. 

In the j'ear 1775, John Adams, as a 
delegate in congress, nominated George 
Washington to the post of commander-in- 
chief of the American armies. The glory 
of originating this choice appears to be- 
long principally to Mr. Adams, and, did 
he need a secondary reputation, this 
would have been claim enough to his 
country's gratitude. The service cannot 
be too highly- estimated. Washington's 
character was of such a nature, that, if 
some sagacious individual had not jjointed 
him out, he probably would not have been 
the foremost figure in the public eye. 
Had the selection fallen upon another, no 
one can conjecture what would have been 
the result. 

As already stated, Mr. Adams was one 
of the committee to draft the Declaration 
of Independence ; and the calm, yet high 
enthusiasm of the letter in which he 
announced that event to a friend, and 
prophesied that its anniversary would 
become a national festival, must be famil- 
iar to every American. He had a share 
in all the weightiest business of congress, 
and bore the burden of much that was loss 
important, being a member of no less than 
ninety committees, and chairman of twen- 
tj'-five. In 1777, he was appointed com- 
missioner to France, to supersede Deane, 



294 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



who was the colleague there of Benjamin 
Franklin and Arthur Lee ; returning home 
in 1779, he was again sent out, in the 
autumn of that year, with powers to con- 
chule a treaty of peace and commerce. In 
1785, the distinguished honor fell to him 
of being appointed the first minister from 
the United States to the court of St. 
James; and, in this capacity', was duly 
presented to his long-time political enem^', 
King George the Third. In 1788, he 
returned home. He subsequently assisted 
in forming the constitution of his native 
state. During, the eight years presidency 
of Washington, Jlr. Adams was vice-jires- 
ident, and, when the former retired from 
office, Mr. Adams, after a hard political 
contest with Jefferson and Thomas Pinck- 
ney, became president of the United 




States. At the end, however, of the first 
four years, Mr. Jefferson came in b3' a tri- 
um[)hiint majority, and President Adams 
retired to domestic life. This was in 1801, 
when he had reached the age of" sixty-six. 
His long course of public services was 
now ended. At the period of his retire- 
ment, he did not enjoy the unreserved and 
cordial approbation of any party. Some 
of his measures had gone far towards alien- 
ating the federalists l>y whom he had been 
chosen president, and lie had bitter ene- 



mies. Hi'iiig a man of warm pas.*ions, 
Mr. Adams was not slow to resent, nor 
cautious to hide his resentment. He once 
observed, pointing to his own portrait, 
'• That fellow could never keep his mouth 
shut ! ■' But he was always frank, and 
inflexibly honest, as is most plainlj' shown 
by the incidents given in his biography, 
written by Hon. Charles Francis Adams. 

As showing from what accidental cir- 
cumstances often spring the most imi)ort- 
ant changes in the lives and fortunes of 
men, the following anecdote is well worthy 
of a place in this narrative: 'When I was 
a boy,' says John Adams, ' I had to study 
the Latin grammar, but it was dull, and I 
hated it. My father was anxious to send 
me to college, and therefore I studied the 
grammar till I could boar with it no longer, 
and, going to my father, I told him I did 
not like studj-, and asked for some other 
employment. It was opposing his 
wishes, and he was quick in his answer. 
' Well, John,' said he, ' if Latin gram- 
mar docs not suit j'ou, you may try 
ditching; perhaps that will. My 
meadow j-onder needs a ditch, and you 
may put bv Latin and try that.' This 
seemed a delightful change, and to the 
meadow I went. But I soon found 
ditching harder than Latin, and the first 
forcnouu was the longest I ever expe- 
rienced. That day I ate the bread of 
labor, and glad was I when night camo 
on. Tliat night I made some compar- 
ison between Latin grammar and ditch- 
ing, but said not a word about it. I 
dug the next forenoon, and wanted to 
return to Latin at dinner ; but it was 
humiliating, and I could not do it. At 
night, toil conquered pride, and I told 
my father — one of the severest trials of 
my life — that, if he chose, I would go back 
to Latin grammar. lie was glad of it; 
and if I have since gained any distinction, 
it has been owing to the two days' labor 
in that abominable ditch.' 

Declining farther and farther into the 
vale of years, and now long removed from 
the dust of contending [larties, the hoary 
sage drew towards his sepulchre. For 



GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



295 



several days before tlie fourth of July on 
which he expired, he had been fast failing, 
though, in reply to an invitation to partici- 
pate in the celebration of that day, he 
wrote a patriotic note, full of the fire of 
his best daj-s. Being desired to furnish a 
toast for the occasion, he gave — 'Inde- 
PEXDEXCE Forever ! ' He was asked if 
anything should be added to it. He imme- 
diately replied, "Not a irordf" This 
toast was drank at the celebration in 
Quincy, about fifty minutes before the 
departure of the venerated statesman from 
earth. On the morning of the fourth, 
•which was ushered in bj' the ringing of 
bells and firing of cannon, he was asked if 
he knew what day it was ? — "O yes," he 
replied, " it is the glorious fourth of July 
— God bless it ! — God bless you all ! " In 
the course of the day he said, " It is a 
great and glorious day." The last words 
he uttered were, " Jefferson survives ! " 
But the spirit of Jefferson had already 
left the body. Among Adams's pall- 
bearers, were President Kirkland, Judge 
Story, Judge Davis, and Lieutenant 
Governor Winthrop. 

Mr. Jefferson, the illustrious compeer of 
Adams, was born in Albemarle county, 
Virginia, in 1743, and was entered a stu- 
dent in the college of William and Mary. 
On leaving this seminar}-, he applied him- 
self to the study of the law, under the 
tuition of the celebrated George Wythe, 
and was called to the bar in 1766. He 
soon occupied a high stand in his profes- 
sion, and, at the early age of twenty-five, 
entered the house of burgesses of his 
native state. In 1774, he published a 
Summary View of the Eights of British 
America, a bold but respectful pamphlet 
addressed to the king. In 1775, he was 
elected a member of the continental con- 
gress, and in the following year drew up 
the Declaration of Independence, the most 
remarkable document that has ever, in the 
ages of the world, proceeded from an 
uninspired pen. 

Of the committee appointed to draft the 
momentous Declaration, Jefferson, though 
the j-oungest, was unanifnously made 



chairman, his colleagues being John 
Adams of Massachusetts, Benjamin Frank- 
lin of Pennsylvania, Roger Sherman of 
Connecticut, and Robert R. Livingston of 
New York. Jefferson's draft was taken 
up, in committee of the whole, on the first 
of Julj-, the chair being filled bj' Benjamin 
Harrison, father of William Henry Har- 
rison, president of the United States in 
'1840. The great manifesto was debated, 
and, after some slight modifications, was 
agreed to in the course of a three days' 
session. No record of that thrilling debate 
has come down ; only some fragmentary 
reminiscences of the participants of the 
drama. Edward Rutledge, of South Caro- 
lina, is said to have exclaimed, ''I should 
advise persisting in our struggle for libert_y 
and independence, though it were revealed 
from Heaven that nine hundred and ninetj-- 
nine were to perish, and only one of a 
thousand were to survive and retain his 
liberty." The Declaration was adopted, 
by a unanimous vote, a little past noon, on 
the fourth of July. " Now, gentlemen," 
said the quaint Dr. Franklin to his col- 
leagues, " we must all hang together, or 
we shall surely hang separately." 

Though what maj' be termed bitter 
political rivals for a long period, — leading, 
respectively, the two great opposing par- 
ties, — time's mellowing influence changed 
all this, and the two patriarchal statesmen 
and ex-presidents cultivated a mutually 
warm and generous friendship in their old 
age. In a letter written bv Jefferson to 
Adams, in June, 1822, he says: 

" It is very long, my dear sir, since I 
have written to you. My dislocated wrist 
is now become so stiff, that I write slowly, 
and with pain ; and therefore write as 
little as I can. Yet it is due to mutual 
friendship, to ask once in a while how we 
do? I have ever dreaded a doting old 
age ; and my health has been generally so 
good, and is now so good, that I dread it 
still. The rapid decline of my strength 
during the last winter, has made me hope, 
sometimes, that I see land. During 
summer, I enjoy its temperature, but 1 
shudder at the approach of winter, and 



296 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



wish I could sleep through it, with the 
dormouse, and only wake with him in 
spring, if ever. They say that Starke 
could walk ahout liis room. I am told you 
■walk well and firmly. I can only reach 
my garden, and that with sensible fatigue. 
I ride, however, daily; but reading is my 
delight. I should wish never to put pen 
to paper ; and the more because of the 



Eurojio, wliere it e.xcited much commenda- 
tion, on account of the contrast it afforded 
between an old age thus dedicated to 
virtue, temperance, and philosophy, and 
the heart-sickening details so often per 
taining to the lives of those who sit upon 
throiK's. 

Though he had for some time past been 
failing in his general health, it was not 




TUE AD.tMS MANSION AT QUINCV. 



treacherous practice some people have, of 
jiiililishing one's letters without leave;" 
— etc., etc. 

In his reply to the pleasant and cordial 
letter, from wliich the above few sentences 
are extracted as specimens, Mr. Adams 
says, among other friendly and felicitous 
expressions : 

" Half an hour ago I received, and this 
moment have heard read, for the third or 
fourth time, the best letter that ever was 
written by an octogenarian, dated June 
1st. My sight is very dim, hearing pretty 
good, memory poor enough. In wishing 
for your health and hap])iness, I am very 
scllisji; for I hope for more letters. This 
is worth more than five lninih('<l dollars to 
me; for it has already given me, and will 
continue to give me, more j)leasure than a 
thousand ; " — etc., etc. 

This correspondence between the once 
rival presidents of the greatest reimblic of 
the world, was rej)ublished in full, in 



until the first of July that Mr. Jefferson 
was confined to his bed. On the third, he 
continued to sink. Near the middle of the 
night he asked the hour ; and on being 
told that it was near one o'clock, he 
expressed his joy. He expressed an earn- 
est desire that he might live to behold the 
light of the next da3' — the fiftieth anni- 
versary of the independence of his coun- 
try. His prayer was answered. At fifty 
minutes past meridian, July fourth, 1826, 
Thomas Jefferson ceased to breathe. 

TIius, these two most illustrious fathers 
of the republic, — associates, rivals, friends, 
— took their flight together to the other 
world, on the most memorable day since 
the birth of the nation, and all classes and 
parties, forgetting the animosities of the 
past, united in paying their common trib- 
ute of reverence to the magnificent fame 
of Adams and Jefferson. In the words of 
Webster, their great eulogist, " tiieik 
NAME LIVETH EVEKMORE!" 



XXXII. 

THE "GREAT DEBATE" BETWEEN WEBSTER AND 
HAYNE, IN CONGRESS.— 1830. 



Vital Constitutional Issues Discussed — Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Eloquence. — 
M^ebster's Speech Acknowledged to be tlie Grandest Forensic Achievement in tlie Wliole Kange of 
Modern Parliamentary Efforts — Golden Age of American Oratory. — Unprecedented Interest and 
Excitement Produced in tlie Public Mind. — No American Debate Comparable with This. — Known as 
the "Battle of the Giants " — Inflamed Feeling at the South. — Hayne's Brilliant Championship. — His 
Speech Against the North — Profound Impression Created — Its Dash, Assurance, Severity — Bitter 
and Sweeping Charges. — His Opponents Wonder-Struck. — Webster has the Floor to Reply. — An 
Ever-Memorable Day. — Intense Anxiety to Hear Him. — Magnificent Personal Appearance. — His 
Exordium, all Hearts Enchained. — Immense Intellectual Range — Copious and Crushing Logic. — 
Accumulative Grandeur of Thought, — Thrilling Apostrophe to the Union. — The Serious, Comic, 
Pathetic, etc — Hayne's Argument Demolished. — Reception Accorded the Speech. — Rival Orators; 
Pleasant Courtesies. 



•*It has been my fortune to hear some of the ablest epeeches of the greatest living oratora on both sides of the water, but I must confess I 
never heard anything wliicli so eomplctelv realized my conception of what Demosthenes was when he delivered the Oration for the Crown." 
— Edwabd Everett on Webster's Speech. 



'#^^ 



o:^^^ 




HE remark made hy a distinguished public man, 
that to have heard the great national debate in the 
senate of the United States, between Webster of 
Massachusetts and Hayne of South Carolina, "con- 
stituted an era in a man's life," is an expression 
worthy of being expanded into the far more com- 
mensurate statement that the debate in question 
constituted an era of far-reaching influence and 
importance, in the political history of the nation. 
It was, indeed, the greatest forensic exhibition this 
THE vicTOR'.s WREATH. couutry liBs cvBr witnessed, and, though nearly 

half a century has elapsed since its occurrence, and the immediate jjarticijiants and 
their official contemporaries have, almost all of them, long since passed to the sphere of 
another existence, the occasion still furnishes, and will continue to furnish to future 
generations, one of the most instructive chapters in the annals of national affairs. Well 
h.as the debate been called ' the battle of the giants.^ 

Fortunately for those who would wish, in after time, to inform themselves with ref- 
erence to the principles involved and the chief actors engaged in this great debate, 



298 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the memorials of the occasion furnished 
hv Ml'. March, and, suljseijuently, by Mr. 
Lanmuii, Dr. Tefft, Louis Gaylord Chirk, 
Edward Everett, and otliers, leave nothing 
to be supplied. Mr. March's notes are 
adopted by Mr. Everett, in his memoirs of 
Mr. Webster, and, in an abridged form, 
are given below, in connection with the 
perspicuous statements of Tefft and others 
relating to the general issue. The speech 
was also reported by Jlr. Joseph Gales, 
at the request of Judge Burnett, of Ohio, 
and otlier senators. On canvas, too, Hea- 
ley, the master-painter, has commem- 
orated in an enduring manner, the orator 
and the occasion. 

The subject of discussion before the 
senate, in the persons of these two intel- 
lectual gladiators, grew out of a resolution 
brought forward by Senator Foot, of Con- 
necticut, just at the close of the previous 
year, with a view to some arrangement 
concerning the sale of the public lands. 
But this immediate question was soon lost 
sight of in the discussion of a great, vital 
principle of constitutional law, namely : 
the relative powers of the states and the 
national government. Upon this, Mr. 
Benton and Mr. Ilayno addressed the 
senate, condemning the policy of the east- 
ern states, as illiberal toward the west. 
Mr. Webster replied, in vindication of 
New England and of the policy of the 
government. It was then that Mr. Hayne 
made his attack — sudden, unexpected, and 
certainly unexampled,^ — on Mr. Webster 
personally, upon Massachusetts and the 
other northern states politically, and upon 
the constitution itself; in respect to the 
latter, Mr. Hayne taking the position, that 
it is constitutional to interrupt the admin- 
istration of the constitution itself, in the 
Iiands of those who are chosen and sworn 
to administer it, by the direct interference, 
in form of law, of the states, in virtue of 
their sovereign capacit}'. All of these 
points were handled by Mr. Hayne with 
that rhetorical brilliancy and power which 
characterized him as the oratorical cham- 
pion of the south, on the floor of the 
senate ; and it is not saying too much, 



that the speech produced a profound im- 
pression. 

^Ir. Haj-ne's great effort appeared to be 
the result of premeditation, concert and 
arrangement. He selected his own time, 
and that, too, peculiarly inconvenient to 
Mr. Webster, for, at that moment, the 
supreme court were proceeding in the 
hearing of a cause of great importance, in 
which he was a leading counsel. For this 
reason, he requested, through a friend, a 
postponement of the debate ; Mr. Hayne 
objected, however, and the request was 
refused. The time, the matter, and the 
manner, indicated that the attack was 
made with a design to crush so formidable 
a political opponent as Mr. Webster had 
become. To this end, personal history, 
the annals of New England and of the 
federal party, were ransacked for materi- 
als. It was attempted, with the usual 
I)artisan unfairness of political harangues, 
to make him responsilile, not cml^' for what 
was liis own, but for the conduct and ojiin- 
ions of others. All the errors and delin- 
quencies, real or supposed, of Massachu- 
setts, and the eastern states, and of the 
federal party, during the war of 1812, and, 
indeed, prior and subsequent to that 
jjeriod, were accumulated upon him. 

Thus it was, that Mr. Hayne heralded 
liis speech with a bold declaration of war, 
with taunts and threats, vaunting antici- 
jiatcd triumph, as if to paralyze by intimi- 
dation; saying that he would carrj- the 
war into Africa, until he had obtained 
indemnity for the past and security for the 
future. It was supposed that, as a distin- 
guished representative man, Mr. Webster 
would be driven to defend what was inde- 
fensible, and to uiiliold what could not be 
sustained, and, as a federalist, to oppose 
the popular resolutions of '98. 

The severe nature of Mr. Hayne's 
charges, the ability with wliidi he brought 
them to bear upon his op|H)nents, his great 
reputation as a brilliant anil powerful 
declaimer, filled the minds of his friends 
with anticipations of complete triumph. 
For two days, Mr. Hajnie had the control 
of the floor. The vehemence of bis Ian- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



299 



guage and the earnestness of his manner 
gave added force to the excitement of the 
occasion. So fluent and melodious was his 
elocution, that his cause naturally begat 
.sympathy. No one had time to deliberate 
upon his rapid words, or canvass his sweep- 
ing and accumulated statements. The 
dashing nature of the onset; the assurance, 
almost insolence, of its tone; the serious 
character and apparent truth of the accu- 
sations, confounded almost every hearer. 
The immediate impression from the speech 
was most assuredly disheartening to the 
cause Mr. Webster upheld. Congratula- 
tions from almost every quarter were show- 
ered upon the speaker. Mr. Benton said, 
in the full senate, that much as Mr. Hayne 
had done before to establish his reputation 
as an orator, a statesman, a jjatriot, and a 
gallant son of the south, the efforts of that 
day would eclipse and surpass the whole. 
Indeed, the speech was extolled as the 
greatest effort of the time, or of other 
times, — neither Chatham, nor Burke, nor 
Fox, had surpassed it, in their palmiest 
days. 

Satisfaction, however, with the .speech, 
even among the friends of the orator, was 
not unanimous. Some of the senators 
knew, for they had felt, Mr. Webster's 
power. They knew the great resources of 
his mind; the immense range of his intel- 
lect ; the fertility of his imagination ; his 
copious and fatal logic ; the scathing sever- 
ity of his sarcasm, and his full and electri- 
fying eloquence. Mr. Webster's own 
feelings with reference to the speech were 
freely expressed to his friend, Mr. Everett, 
the evening succeeding Mr. Hayne's clos- 
ing effort. He regarded the speech as an 
entirely unprovoked attack upon the north, 
and, what was of far more importance, as 
an exposition of a system of politics, 
which, in Mr. Webster's opinion, went far 
to change the form of government from 
that which was estaldished by the consti- 
tution, into that which existed under the 
confederation, — if the latter could be called 
a government at all. He stated it to be 
his intention, therefore, to put that theory 
to rest forever, as far as it could bo done 



liy an argument in the senate-chamber. 
How grandly he did this, is thus vividly 
portraj-ed by Mr. March, an eye-witness, 
and whose account has been adopted by all 
historians : 

It was on Tuesday, January the twenty- 
sixth, 1830, — a day to be hereafter forever" 
memorable in senatorial annals, — that the 
senate resumed the consideration of Foot's 
resolution. There was never before in the 
city, an occasion of so much excitement. 
To witness this great intellectual contest, 
multitudes of strangers had for two or 




ROBERT T. HAYNE. 



three days previous been rushing into the 
city, and the hotels overflowed. As early 
as nine o'clock in the morning, crowds 
poured into the capitol, in hot haste ; at 
twelve o'clock, the hour of meeting, the 
senate-chamber, — its galleries, floor, and 
even the lobbies, — was filled to its utmost 
capacity. The verj- stairways were dark 
with men, who hung on to one another, 
like bees in a swarm. 

The house of representatives was early 
deserted. An adjournment would hardly 
have made it emptier. The speaker, it is 
true, retained his chair, but no business of 
moment was, or could be, attended to. 
Members all rushed in, to hear Mr. Web- 
ster, and no call of the house, or other par- 
liamentary proceedings, could compel them 
back. The floor of the senate was so 



300 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S7G. 



densely crowded, that persons once in 
could not get out, nor cluinge their posi- 
tion. In the rear of the vice-president's 
chair, the crowd was particularly dense ; 
Hon. Dixon H. Lewis, then a representa- 
tive from Alabama, became wedged in 
here. From his enormous size, it was 
impossible for him to move without dis- 
placing a vast portion of the multitude ; 
unfortunately, too, for him, he was 
jammed in directly behind the chair of the 
vice-president, where he could not see, and 
could hardly hear, the speaker. By slow 
and laborious effort — pausing occasionally 
to breathe — lie gained one of the windows, 
which, constructed of painted glass, flanked 
the chair of the vice-president on either 
side. Here he paused, unable to make 
more headway. But determined to see 
Mr. Webster, as he spoke, with his knife 
he made a large hole in one of the panes 
of glass. The courtesy of senators ac- 
corded to the fairer sex room on the floor 
— the most gallant of them, their own 
seats. 

Seldom, if ever, has speaker in this or 
any other country, had more powerful 
incentives to exertion ; a subject, the 
determination of which involved the most 
important interests, and even duration, of 
the republic; competitors, unequaled in 
reputation, ability, or position; a name to 
make still more renowned, or lose forever; 
and an audience, comprising not only 
American citizens most eminent in intel- 
lectual greatness, but representatives of 
other nations, where the art of eloquence 
had flourished for ages. 

Mr. Webster perceived, and felt equal 
to, the destinies of the moment. The very 
greatness of the hazard exhilarated him. 
His si)irits rose with the occasion. He 
awaited the time of onset with a stern and 
impatient joy. He felt, like, the war-horse 
of the scriptures, who ' paweth in the 
valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : who 
goeth on to meet the armed men, — who 
sayeth among the trumpets, ha, ha ! and 
who smelleth the battle afar off, the thun- 
der of the captains and the shouting.' A 
confidence in his resources, springing from 



no vain estimate of his power, but the 
legitimate offspring of previous severe 
mental discipline, sustained and excited 
him. He had gauged his opponents, his 
subject, and himself. He was, too, at this 
period, in the very prime of manhood. He 
had reached middle age — an era in the life 
of man, when the faculties, physical or 
intellectual, may be supposed to attain 
their fullest organization, and most jierfect 
development. Whatever there was in 
him of intellectual energy and vitality, the 
occasion, his full life and high ambition, 
might well bring forth. 

He never rose on an ordinary occasion 
to address an ordinary audience more self- 
possessed. There was no tremulousness in 
his voice nor manner; nothing hurried, 
nothing simulated. The calmness of supe- 
rior strength was visible everywhere ; in 
countenance, voice, and bearing. A deep- 
seated conviction of the extraordinary 
character of the emergency, and of his 
ability to control it, seemed to possess him 
wholly. If an observer, more than ordi- 
narily keen-sighted, detected at times 
something like exultJltion in his eye, he 
j>resumed it sprang from the excitement of 
the moment, and the ^anticipation of 
victory. 

The anxiety to hear the speech was so 
intense, irrepressible, and universal, that 
no sooner had the vice-president assumed 
the chair, than a motion was made and 
uiianimou.<ly carried, to postpone the ordi- 
nary preliminaries of senatorial action, and 
to take up immediately the consideration 
of the resdlution. 

Jlr. Webster rose and addressed the 
senate. His exordium is known by lieart 
everywhere : " Mr. President, when the 
mariner has been tossed, for many days, in 
thick weather, and on an unknown sea, he 
naturally avails himself of the first pause 
in the storm, the earliest glance of the 
sun, to take his latitude, and ascertain how 
far the elements have driven him from his 
true course. Let us imitate this prudence ; 
and before we float further, on the waves 
of this debate, refer to the jioiiit from 
which we departed, that we may. at least, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



301 



be able to form some conjecture where we 
now are. I ask for the reading of the res- 
ohition." Calm, resolute, impressive, was 
this opening utterance. 

There wanted no more to enchain the 
attention. There was a spontaneous, 
though silent, expression of eager approba- 
tion, as the orator concluded these opening 
remarks. And while the clerk read the 
resolution, manj' attempted the imjjossibil- 
ity of getting nearer the siJeaker. Every 
head was inclined closer towards him, 
every ear turned in the direction of his 
voice — and that deep, sudden, mysterious 
silence followed, which always attends full- 
ness of emotion. From the sea of up- 
turned faces before him, the orator beheld 
his thoughts reflected as from a mirror. 
The varying countenance, the suffused eye, 
the earnest smile, and ever-attentive look, 
assured him of the intense interest excited. 
If, among his hearers, there were those 
who affected at first an indifference to his 
glowing thoughts and fervent periods, the 
difficult mask was soon laid aside, and 
profound, undisguised, devoted attention 




DANIEL WEDSTEU. 

followed. In truth, all, sooner or later, 
voluntarily, or in spite of themselves, were 
wholly carried away by the spell of such 
unexampled forensic eloquence. 

Those who had doubted Mr. Webster's 
ability to cope with and overcome his 



opponents were fully satisfied of their 
error before he had proceeded far in his 
speech. Their fears soon took another 
direction. When they heard his sentences 
of powerful thought, towering in accumu- 
lative grandeur, one above the other, as 
if the orator strove, Titan-like, to reach 
the very heavens themselves, they were 
giddy with an apprehension that he would 
break down in his flight. They dared not 
believe, that genius, learning, — any intel- 
lectual endowment, however uncommon, 
that was simp!}' mortal, — could sustain 
itself long in a career seemingly so peril- 
ous. They feared an Icarian fall. 

No one, surel}^, could ever forget, who 
was present to hear, the tremendous — the 
awful — burst of eloquence with which the 
orator apostrophized the old Bay State 
which Mr. Hayne had so derided, or the 
tones of deep pathos in which her defense 
was pronounced : " Mr. President, I shall 
enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts. 
There she is — behold her and judge for 
yourselves. There is her history ; the 
world knows it bj' heart. The past, at 
least, is secure. There is Boston, and 
Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill, 
— and there they will remain forever. 
The bones of her sons, falling in the great 
struggle for independence, now lie min- 
gled with the soil of every state, from New 
England to Georgia ; and there they will 
lie forever. And, sir, where American 
liberty raised its first voice, and where its 
jfouth was nurtured and sustained, there it 
still lives, in the strength of its manhood 
and full of its original spirit. If discord 
and disunion shall wound it — if JJarty- 
strife and blind ambition shall hawk at 
and tear it — if folly and madness — if uneas- 
iness under salutary and necessary re- 
straint, — shall succeed to separate it from 
that Union, by which alone its existence 
is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by 
the side of that cradle in which its infancy 
was rocked : it will stretch forth its arm 
with whatever of vigor it may still retain, 
over the friends who gather round it ; and 
it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst 
the proudest monuments of its own glory. 



302 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



and on the very spot of its origin." No 
New England heart but tlirobbed with 
vehement, absorbed, irrejiressible emotion, 
as Mr. Webster thus dwelt upon New 
England sufferings, New England strug- 
gles, and New England triumphs, during 
the war of the revolution. There was 
scarcely a dry eye in the senate ; all hearts 
were overcome ; grave judges, and men 
grown old in dignified life, turned aside 
their he.ids, to conceal the evidences of 
their emotion. 

In one corner of the gallery was clus- 
tered a group of Massachusetts men. 
They had liung from the first moment 
upon the words of the speaker, with feel- 
ings variously but always warmly excited, 
deepening in intensity as he proceeded. 
At first, while the orator was going 
through his exordium, they held their 
breath and liid their faces, mindful of the 
fierce attack ujjou him and New England, 
and the fearful odds against any one 
standing up as a champion of the latter ; 
as he went deeper into his speech, they 
felt easier ; when he turned Hayne's flank 
on " Banquo's ghost " — that famous rhe- 
torical figure used by the South ("arolinian, 
— they lircatlicd freer and fuller. But 
anon, as he allu<led to Massachusetts, their 
feelings were strained to the utmost ten- 
sion ; and when the senator, concluding 
his passages upon the land of their birth, 
turned, intentionally or otherwise, liis 
burning eye uj)on them, tears were falling 
like rain adown their cheeks. 

No one who was not present can under- 
stand the excitement of the scene. No 
one, who was, can give an adequate de- 
scription of it. No word-painting can 
convey the deep, intense enthusiasm, — the 
reverential attention, of that vast assem- 
bly, — nor limner transfer tq canvas their 
earnest, eager, awe-struck countenances. 
Though language were as subtle and flex- 
ible as thought, it still would be impossi- 
ble to represent the full idea of the occa- 
sion. 

Much of the instantaneous effect of the 
speech arose, of course, from the orator's 
deliverv — the tones of liis voice, his coun- 



tenance, and manner. These die mostly' 
with the occasion ; they can only be 
described in general terms. '• Of the 
effectiveness of Mr. Webster's manner, in 
many parts," says Mr. Everett, himself 
almost without a peer, as au orator, "it 
would be in vain to attempt to give any 
one not ju-esent the faintest idea. It has 
been ni}" fortune to hear some of the ablest 
speeches of the greatest living orators on 
both sides of the water, but I must confess 
I never heard anything which so com- 
pletely realized my conception of what 
Demosthenes was when he delivered the 
Oration for the Crown." There could be 
no higher praise than this. Kean nor 
Kenible, nor any other masterly delineator 
of the human passions, ever i)roduce<l a 
more powerful impression upon an audi- 
ence, or swayed so completely their hearts. 

No one ever looked the orator, as he did, 
— in form and feature how like a god ! His 
countenance spake no less audibly than his 
words. His manner gave new force to his 
language. As he stood swaying his right 
arm, like a huge tilt-hammer, up and 
down, his swarthy countenance lighted up 
with excitement, he appeared amid the 
smoke, the fire, the thunder of liis elo- 
quence, like Vulcan in his armory forging 
thoughts for the gods ! Time had not 
thinned nor bleached his hair; it was as 
dark as the raven's .plumage, surmounting 
his massive brow in ample folds. His eye, 
always dark and deeji-set, enkindled by 
some glowing thought, shone from beneath 
his somber, overhanging brow like lights, 
in the blackness of night, from a sei)ul- 
chre. No one understood, better than Mr. 
Webster, the philosophy of dress ; — what a 
powerful auxiliary it is to speech and 
manner, when Iiarnioniziiig with them. 
On this occasion ho apjieared in a blue 
coat, a bu£E vest, black pants, and white 
cravat, a costume strikingly in keeping 
with bis face and expression. 

The human face never wore an expres- 
sion of more withering, relentless scorn, 
than when the orator replied to Hayne's 
allusion to the " nnirdered coalition," — a 
piece of stale jiolitical trumpery, well 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



303 



understood at that da}-. " It is," said Mr. 
Webster, " the very cast-off slough of a 
polluted and shameless press. Incapable 
of further mischief, it lies in the sewer, 
lifeless and despised. It is not now, sir, 
in the power of the honorable member to 
give it dignity or decency, by attemjjting 
to elevate it, and introduce it into the 
senate. He cannot change it from what 
it is — an object of general disgust and 
scorn. On the contrary, the contact, if he 
choose to touch it, is more likely to drag 
him down, down to the place where it lies 
itself ! " He looked, as he spoke these 
words, as if the thing he alluded to was 
too mean for scorn itself, and the sharp, 
stinging enunciation, made the words still 
more scathing. The audience seemed 
relieved, — so crushing was the expression 
of his face which they held on to, as 'twere, 
spell-bound, — when he turned to other 
topics. 

But the good-natured yet jirovoking 
irony with which he descrilied the imagin- 
ary though life-like scene of direct collision 
between the marshaled army of Soutli 
Carolina under General Hayne on the one 
side, and the officers of the United States 
on the other, nettled his opponent even 
more than his severer satire; it seemed so 
ridiculously true. With his true Southern 
blood, Hayne inquired, with some degree 
of emotion, if the gentleman from Massa- 
chusetts intended any personal imijutation 
by such remarks? To which Mr. Web- 
ster replied, with perfect good humor, 
" Assuredly not — just the reverse, ! " 

The variety of incident during the 
speech, and the rapid fluctuation of pas- 
sions, kept the audience in continual 
expectation, and ceaseless agitation. The 
speech was a complete drama of serious, 
comic, and pathetic scenes ; and though a 
large portion of it was strictly argumenta- 
tive — an exposition of constitutional law, 
— yet, grave as such portion necessarily 
must be, severely logical, and abounding 
in no fancy or episode, it engrossed, 
throughout, undivided attention. 

The swell of his voice and its solemn 
roll struck upon the ears of the enraptured 



audience, in deep and thrilling cadence, as 
waves uj^on the shore of the far-resound- 
ing sea. The Miltonic grandeur of his 
words was the fit expression of his great 
thoughts, and raised his hearers up to his 
theme ; and his voice, exerted to its utmost 
power, penetrated every recess or corner 
of the senate — penetrated even the ante- 
rooms and stairways, as, in closing, he 
pronounced in deepest tones of jjathos 
these words of solemn significance : 
" When my eyes shall be turned to behold, 
for the last time, the sun in heaven, may 
I not see him shining on the broken and 
dishonored fragments of a once glorious 
Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, 
belligerent ; on a land rent with civil 
feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal 
blood! Let their last feeble and lingering 
glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign 
of the republic, now known and honored 
throughout the earth, still full high 
advanced, its arms and trophies streaming 
in their original luster, not a stripe erased 
nor polluted, not a single star obscured, 
bearing for its motto no such miserable 
interrogatory as, "What is all this worth ?" 
— nor those other words of delusion and 
folly, " Liberty first and Union after- 
wards : " but everywhere, spread all over 
in characters of living light, blazing on all 
its ample folds, as they float over the sea 
and over the land, and in every wind 
under the whole heavens, that other senti- 
ment, dear to every American heart, 
" Liberty and Union, now and for- 
ever, ONE AND INSEPARABLE ! " 

The speech was over, but the tones of 
the orator still lingered upon the ear, and 
the audience, unconscious of the close, 
retained their positions. Everywhere 
around seemed forgetfulness of all but the 
orator's presence and words. There never 
was a deeper stillness ; silence could almost 
have heard itself, it was so supernaturally 
still. The feeling was too overpowering, 
to allow expression by voice or hand. It 
was as if one was in a trance, all motion 
paralyzed. But the descending hammer 
of the chair awoke them, with a start ; and 
with one universal, long drawn, deep 



304 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187C. 




WKIiSTEK'S RKPLY TO HAYNE. 



breath, with which the overcharged heart 
seeka relief, the crowded assembly broke 
up and departed. 

New England men walked down Penn- 
sylvania avenue that day, after the speech, 
with a firmer stej) and bolder air — ' pride 
in their port, defiance in their eye.' Thej' 
devoured the way in their stride. They 
looked every ono in the face they met, 
fearing no contradiction. They swarmed 
in the streets, having become miraculou.sly 
multitudinous. They clustered in parties 
and fought the scene over one liundred 
times that night. Their elation was 
the greater, by reaction. Not one of 
them but felt he had gained a personal 
victory. 

In the evening, General Jackson held a 
presidential levee at the Wliite House. It 
was known, in advance, that Mr. Webster 
would attend it, and hardly had the lios- 
pitable doors of the mansion been thrown 
open, when the crowd that had filled the 
senate-chamber in the morning rushed in 



and occupied the rooms, leaving a vast 
and increasing crowd at the entrance. 
On all previous occasions, the general 
himself had been the observed of all 
observers. His receptions were alwa^-s 
gladly attended by large numbers ; and 
to these he himself was always the chief 
object of attraction, on account of his 
great military and personal reputation, 
official position, gallant bearing, and 
courteous manners. 

But on this occasion, the room in wliich 
he received his company was deserted, as 
soon as courtesy to the president permitted. 
Mr. Webster was in the East Room, and 
thither the whole mass hurried. He stood 
almost in the center of the room, pressed 
upon bj' surging crowds, eager to pay him 
deference. Hayne, too, was there, and, with 
others, went ui>and complimented Mr. Wel>- 
ster on his brilliant effort. In a subsequent 
meeting between the two rival debaters, 
Webster challenged Hayne to drink a glass 
of wine with him, saying, as he did so, — 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVEXTS. 



305 



" General Hayne, I drink to j'our healtli, 
and I hope that j'ou may live a thousand 
years." 

'■' I shall not live more than one hundred, 
if you make another such speech," Hayne 
replied. 

To this day, Webster's speech is re- 
garded as the masterpiece of modern elo- 
quence, — unsurpassed by even the might- 
iest efforts of Pitt, Fox, or Burke, — a 
matchless intellectual achievement and 
complete forensic triumph. It was to this 
great and triumphant effort, that Mr. 
Webster's subsequent matchless fame as a 
statesman was due ; and, that he was 
equal to comprehending the true principles 
of international, as well as those of inter- 
nal, justice and jjolii^y) is abundantly 
proved by his diplomacy with Great Brit- 
ain, to which the highest credit is awarded 
by Eliot, the accomplished historian, in his 
concise and admirable review of public 
affairs during this jjeriod. An insurrec- 
tion (says j\Ir. Eliot) having broken out 
in Canada, it was immediately supported 
by American parties, the insurgents being 
in favor of reform or independence. One 
of these American parties, in company 
with some Canadian refugees, after pillag- 
ing the New York arsenals, seized upon 
Navy Island, a British possession in the 
Niagara river. Mr. Marcj^ was governor 
of New York at this time. The steamer 
Caroline, engaged in bringing over men, 
arms, and stores to the island, was de- 
stroyed, though at the time on the Ameri- 
can shore, by a Britsh detachment. The 
deed was instantly avowed by the minister 
of Great Britain at Washington as an act 
of self-defense on the British side. One 
of the chief characters in these exciting 
movements was William M'Kenzie. In 
November, 1840, one Alexander M'Leod, 



sheriff of Niagara, in Canada, and as such 
a participator iu the destruction of the 
Caroline, was arrested in New York on 
the charge of murder, an American having 
lost his life when the steamer was de- 
stroyed. The British government de- 
manded his release, in doing which they 
were sustained by the United States 
administration, on the ground that M'Leod 
was but an agent or soldier of Great Brit- 
ain. But the authorities of New York 
held fast to their prisoner, and brought 
him to trial. Had harm come to him, his 
government stood pledged to declare war ; 
but he was acquitted for want of proof. 
The release of M'Leod did not, however, 
settle the affair of the Caroline ; this still 
remained. There were, or there had been, 
other difficulties also, — namely, upon the 
Maine frontier, where the boundary-line 
had never yet been run. Collisions took 
place, between the Maine militia and the 
British troops, and others had been but 
just prevented. On Mr. Webster's acces- 
sion to the state department, our govern- 
ment proposed, through Mr. Webster, to 
the British cabinet, to take up the north- 
eastern boundary question. The offer was 
accepted by the British, who sent, as spe- 
cial envoy, Lord Ashburton, to whom was 
committed the boundary and other contro- 
verted questions. The consultations be- 
tween Mr. Webster and Lord Ashburton 
led to a treaty which settled the boundary, 
put down the claim to visit our vessels, 
and provided for the mutual surrender of 
fugitives from justice. For the affair of 
the Caroline, an apology was made by 
Great Britain. 

The fame of IVIr. Webster, as an 
orator, a statesman, and an expounder of 
public law, thus became world-wide and 
unrivaled. 



20 



XXXIII. 

RISE AXD PROGRESS OF THE MORMOXS, OR "LATTER- 
DAY SAIXTS," UNDER JOSEPH SMITH, THE 
"PROPHET OF THE LORD."— 1830. 



His Assumed Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Apostles Sent Forth and Converts 
Obtained in All Parts of the World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the " City of Zion." — 
Smith's Character. — Uemoval to Utah, the "Promised Land." — Smith the "Mohammed 
of the West." — His Origin and Repute. — Pretended Supernatural Interviews. — Revela- 
tions of Divine Records. — Finds and Translates Them. — Secret History of this Transaction. 
— Pronounced to be a Fraud. — Teachings of the Mormon Bible. — Smith Claims to be Inspired — 
Announced as a Second Savior. — Organization of the First Church. — Strange Title Adopted. — 
Smith's Great Personal Influence. — Rapid Increase of the Sect. — Settlement at the West. — 
Violent Opposition to Them. — Outrages, Assassinations, Riots. — Polygamy " Divinely " Author- 
ized. — Smith in Jail as a Criminal. — Is Shot Dead by a Furious Mob. — Brighara Young His Suc- 
cessor. — The " New Jerusalem." 



— '* Anrt with a niece of »criphii« 
Tell Ihem.— lh«( (jod Di<U un <lo good for evil. 

And Ihiii I clothe my naked villainv 
With old odd finli, Btol'u fortii of IloIvVrit. 
Aod ieeni a Kaiot, when lno»t 1 play tlic devil.' 




F the many ora<nilar predictions indulged in l>y trans-Atlantic wiseacres, 
concerning the future of American history, not one of them has had 
so accurate and remarkable a fulfillment as that made by Robert 
Southey, the great English poet and historian, in 1829. ami wliich 
ran as follows: "The next Aaron Burr ■vvho seeks to carve 
a kingdom for liimself out of the overgrown territories of 
the Union, may discern that fanaticism is the most effective 
weapon with which ambition can arm itself; that the waj' for 
both is prepared by that immorality which the want of religion naturallj' and 
neces.sarily induces, and that camp-meetings may be very well directed to forward the 
designs of military prophets. Were there another Mohammed to arise, there is no 
part of the world where he would find more scope or fairer opportunity than in that 
part of the Anglo-American Union into which the older states continually discharge the 
restless part of their population, leaving laws and Gospel to overtake it if they can, for 
in tlie march of modern civilization both are left behind." This j)rophecy was uttered 
long before even the name of 'Mormon' had been heard in the west, and, bating the 
hermit-poet's very natural fling at camiJ-meetings, and his English cant about American 
immorality, is worthy of a seer. 



GEEAT AND aAEEMOKABLE EVEI^TS. 



307 



Joseph Smith, the Mohammed of the 
West, — founder of the sect called Mor- 
mons, or Latter-Day Saints, — was born in 
Sharon, Vermont, December 23, 180.J, and 
met a violent death at Carthage, Illinois, 
in his thirty-ninth year. In 1815, he re- 
moved with his father to Palmyra, New 
York, and here they sustained an unen- 
viable reputation, for idleness, intemjier- 
ance, dishonesty, and other immoralities. 
Josejjh was especially obnoxious in these 
respects ; and, having never received any 
education, he could scarcely so much as 
read and write when he had attained to 
manhood, and whatever he jjut forth to the 
world, under his own name, was written 
or composed by another hand. 

According to his own account of him- 
self, his mind was at a very earlj' age 
exercised religiously, and, on the evening 
of September 21st, when he was but 
eighteen years old, the angel Moroni — a 
glorious being from Heaven — appeared 
before him, as a messenger from the 
Lord, instructing him in the secret pur- 
poses of the Most High, and announcing 
the divine will to be that he. Smith, 
should become a sj>iritual leader and com- 
mander to the nations of the earth. He 
was also told that there was a bundle of 
golden or metallic plates deposited in a 
hill in Manchester, New York (to which 
place Smith had removed in 1819), which 
plates contained some lost biblical records, 
and with which were two transparent 
stones, set in the rim of a bow of silver, 
which were anciently known as the Urim 
and Thunimim; by looking through these 
stones, he could see the strange characters 
on the plates translated into plain English. 
These plates were about eight inches long 
by seven wide, and a little thinner than 
ordinary tin, and were bound together by 
three rings running through the whole. 
Altogether they were about six inches 
thick, and were neatly engraved on each 
side with hieroglyphics in a language 
called the Reformed Egyptian, not then 
known on the earth. From these plates. 
Smith, sitting behind a blanket hung 
across the room to keep the sacred records 



from jjrofane eyes, read off, through the 
transparent stones, the " Book of Mor- 
mon," or Golden Bible, to Oliver Cowdery, 
who wrote it down as Smith read it. It 
was printed in 18.30, in a volume of 
several hundred pages. Appended to it 
was a statement signed by Oliver Cow- 
derj', David Whitmer, and Martin Harris, 
who had become professed believers in 
Smith's supernatural pretensions, and are 
called by the Mormons, the "three wit>- 
nesses." In after years, however, these 
witnesses quarreled with Smith, renounced 
Mormonism, and avowed the falsity of 
their testimony. 

It is charged by the ojajjouents of 
Smith, that the book in question was not 
the production of Smith, in any wise, but 
of the Rev. Solomon Spalding, who wrote 
it as a sort of romance, and that it was 
seen and stolen by Sidney Eigdon, after- 
wards Smith's right-hand man. Sjsalding 
had become involved in his pecuniary 
affairs, and wi-ote this work, intending to 
have it printed and published, and with 
the proceeds to pay his debts. The book 
was entitled "Manuscript Found." It 
was an historical romance of the first set- 
tlers of America, endeavoring to show that 
the American Indians are the descendants 
of the Jews or the lost tribes. It gave a 
detailed account of their journey from 
Jerusalem, by land and sea, till they 
arrived in America under the command of 
Nephi and Lehi. Thej' afterward had 
quarrels and contentions, and separated 
into two distinct nations, one of which he 
denominated Nejjhites and the other Lani- 
anites. Cruel and bloody wars ensued, in 
which great multitudes were slain. They 
buried their dead in large heaps, which 
caused the mounds, so common in this 
country. Their arts, sciences, and civiliz- 
ation were brought into view, in order to 
account for all the curious antiquities, 
found in various parts of North and South 
America. Abundant testimonj' was ad- 
duced from the wife, brother, and business 
partner of Spalding, to whom portions of 
the work had been read while it was in 
course of preparation, proving that the 



308 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Mormon bible was made up of identically 
the same matter, combined with portions 
of the true Scripture. Mr. Spalding's 
business partner, Mr. Miller, testified on 
oath as follows : 

• I have recently examined the Book of 
Mormon, and find in it the writings of 
Solomon Spalding, from beginning to end, 
but mixed up with Scripture and other 
religious matter, wliii-li I did not meet in 
the ' JIanuscript Found.' Many of the 
passages in the Mormon book are verbatim 
from Spalding, and others in part. The 
names of Nephi, Lchi, Moroni, and in 
fact all the principal names, are brought 
fresh to my recollection by the gold bible.' 

Mr. Spalding wrote his manuscript in 
1812; he afterwards removed to Pitts- 
burg, Pennsylvania, where he died in 
1816. His manuscript remained in the 
printing-office a long time, and in this 
office Rigdon was a workman. There is 
the best evidence, therefore, that the 
so-called Mormon bil)]e had for its ])asis 
the matter contained in Mr. Spalding's 
work. Rigdon, however, had at first no 
open connection with Smith, and was con- 
verted liy a special mission sent into his 
neighborhood in 1830. Fnnn the time of 
Rigdon's conversion, tlie progress of Mor- 
nionism was wonderfully rapid, he being a 
man of more than common cunning and 
capacity. It may be of interest here to 
state, that a transcript on paper, of one of 
the golden plates, having been submitted 
to Prof. Ciiarles Anthon, of New York, 
for his inspection, that eminent scholar 
gave, as his statement, that the paper was 
in fact a kind of singular scroll, consisting 
of all kinds of crooked characters, disposed 
in columns, and had evident)}' lieeii i)re- 
pared by some person wlio had before him 
at the time a book containing various 
alphabets, Greek, and Ilclirew letters, 
crosses and flourishes ; Roman letters, in- 
verted iir |ilaced sideways, were arranged 
and placed in perpendicular columns; and 
the whole ended in a rude delineation of 
a circle, divided into various compartments, 
decked with various strange marks, and 
evidently copied after the Mexican calen- 



dar given by Humboldt, but copied in 
such a way as not to betray the source. 

The Mormon theology teaches that 
there is one God, the Eternal Father, his 
son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost ; 
that men will be punished for their own 
sins, and not for Adam's transgressions ; 
that through the atonement of Christ, all 
mankind may be saved by obedience to 
the laws and ordinances of the gospel, 
these ordinances being faith in the 
Lord Jesus, repentance, baptism by im- 
mersion for the remission of sins, lay- 
ing on of hands b^^ the gift of the Holy 
Ghost, and the Lord's Supper ; that man 
must be called of God by inspiration, and 




by laying on of hands from those who 
are duly commissioned to jn-eacli the gospel 
and administer the ordinances thereof; 
that the same organization that existed 
in the primitive church, viz., apostles, 
prophets, pastors, evangelists, etc., should 
be maintained now ; that the powers 
and gifts of faith, discerning of spirits, 
prophecy, revelations, visions, healing, 
tongues, and the interjiretation of tongues, 
still exist ; that the w<ird of God is 
recorded in the Bible, and in tlie Book of 
Mormon, and in all other good books ; 
that there are now being revealed, and 
will continue to be revealed, many more 
great and important things j)ertaining to 
the kingdom of God and Messiah's second 
coming ; that there is to be a literal 
gathering of Israel, and the restoration of 
the ten tribes ; that Zion will be estab- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



309 



lislied upon the western continent ; that 
Christ will reign personally upon the 
earth a thousand j-ears, and the earth 
will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal 
glory ; that there is to be a literal resur- 
rection of the body, and that the rest 
of the dead live not again until the 
thousand years have expired ; that the 
privilege belongs to all, of unmolested 
worship of God, according to the dictates 
of conscience ; that all persons are to be 
subject to kings, queens, presidents, rulers, 
and magistrates, in obeying,' honoring, and 
sustaining the law ; that God, having be- 
come nearly lost to man, revived his work, 
by revealing himself to Joseph Smith, and 
conferring upon him the keys of the ever- 
lasting priesthood, thus making him the 
mediator of a new disj^ensation, which is 
immediately to precede the second coming 
of Christ ; that all those who recognize the 
divine authority of Smith, and are bap- 
tized by one having authority, are the 
chosen people of God, who are to intro- 
duce the millennium, and to reign with 
Christ, onthe earth, a thousand years. The 
doctrine of direct revelation from Heaven 
was at first applied in a general sense, and 
any one firm in the faith, and who stood 
high in the church, received visions and 
revelations. But this soon became trouble- 
some, — the revelations often clashed with 
each other and led to many annoyances, 
and the power of receiving revelations 
was therefore, in course of time, confined 
to the presidency, in whom the sujareme 
authority of the church rests. This presi- 
dency consists of the president and his 
two counselors ; the First President is, 
however, supreme, and there is no resist- 
ance to his decrees. Next in authority in 
the church is the apostolic college, which 
is composed of twelve apostles, who form 
a kind of ecclesiastical senate, but a por- 
tion of them are generally on missions, 
taking charge of the different branches of 
the church in other parts of the world. 
After these come the high priests, who, 
together with the elders, compose the 
body politic of the church, whose duty it 
is to carry out and enforce its decrees and 



regulations. These high priests and elders 
are divided into societies, called quorums 
of seventies, and every quorum preserves 
on its records a complete genealogy of 
each of its members. 

Among the dignitaries of the church, 
the patriarch stands eminent. He holds 
his office for life; all other stations are 
filled with candidates nominated by the 
presidency and elected annually in con- 
vention by the body of the church. The 
bishops also are conspicuous and important 
officers, for it is their duty to collect the 
tithing, to inspect once a week every 
family in their ward or district, and to 
examine strictly into their temporal and 
spiritual affairs. In order to do this more 
thoroughly, each bishop is assisted by two 
counselors. The bishop also adjudicates 
and settles all difficulties occurring be- 
tween persons residing in his ward, though 
from his decision an appeal can be made 
to the high council. This is a tribunal 
consisting of fifteen men selected from 
among the high priests, twelve of whom 
sit as jurors and hear the testimony of 
witnesses in the case, and then by voting 
make a decision — a majority on one side 
or the other deciding the question ; the 
remaining three, as judges, render judg- 
ment as to the costs or punishment. From 
this court the only appeal is to the jiresi- 
dency. 

The first regularly constituted church 
of the Mormon faith was organized in 
Manchester, N. Y., April sixth, 1830, and 
from this time and event dates the Mor- 
mon era. It began with six members or 
elders being ordained, viz., Joseph Smith, 
sen., Hyrum Smith, Joseph Smith, jr., 
Samuel Smith, Oliver Cowdery, Joseph 
Knight. The sacrament was adminis- 
tered, and hands were laid on for the gift 
of the Holy Ghost on this first occasion in 
the church. The first public discourse 
was preached by Cowdery, setting forth 
the principles of the gospel as revealed to 
Smith, April eleventh ; and during the 
same month the first miracle was per- 
formed, " by the power of God," in Coles- 
ville, N. y' 



310 



OUR FIRST CEXTUH v.— 1770-187(3. 



On the first of June, 1830, tlie first con- 
ference of the cluircli was heUl at Fayette, 
N. Y., and soon after, Messrs. Pratt and 
Rigdon united pulilicly with the order. 
Meanwliile, converts multiplied rapidly. 

Early in 1831, Smith set out for Kirt- 
land, Ohio, which, for a time, became the 
chief city of his followers. The elders 
soon received command to go forth in pairs 
and preach, the Melcliizedek or superior 
priesthood heing first conferred upon them 
in June. A considerable body of Mor- 
mons transferred themselves to Jackson 
county, Missouri, in the summer of this 
year. So rapidly did their numbers aug- 
ment in this region, that the older settlers 
became alarmed, and held ])ublic meetings 
protesting against the continuance of the 
sect in their neighborhood. Among tlie 
resolutions passed at these meetings was 
one requiring the Mormon ])ai)er to be 
stopped, hut, as this was not ininicdiately 
complied with, the office of the pajier was 
destroyed. Finally, thej- agreed to re- 
move from that county into Clay county, 
across the Missouri, before doing which, 




however, houses were destroyed, men 
whii>ped, and some lives were lost on both 
sides. 

These outrages, according to the annals 
given by Perkins, kindled the wrath of 
the prophet at Kirtland, who took steps to 
bring about a great gathering of his 



disciples, and, marshaling them as an 
army, in May, 1834, he started for Mis- 
.souri, which in due time he reached, but 
with no other result than the transfer of a 
certain portion of his followers as per- 
manent residents in a section already too 
full of them. At first, the citizens of 
Clay county were friendly to the perse- 
cuted ; but ere long, trouble grew up, and 
the wanderers were once more forced to 
seek a new home, to insure their safety. 
This home they found in Caldwell county, 
where, by permission of the neighbors and 
state legislature, they organized a county 
government, the country having been pre- 
viously unsettled. 

In addition to the stirring scenes al- 
ready recorded, some of the more important 
events in the histor}' and continued prog- 
ress of this sect may be stated briefly as 
follows. The year 18.32 was distinguished 
b}' the tarring and feathering of Smith 
and Rigdon by a mob, for attempting to 
establish comnnniism, and for alleged dis- 
honorable dealing, forgery, and swindling, 
in connection with the Kirtland Safety 
Society Bank, founded by them ; 
the conversion of Mr. Brigham 
Young, and his baptism by Eleazer 
Millard, .also the baptism of Mr. 
Heber 0. Kimball ; and the es- 
tablishment of the first Mormon 
periodical, by Mr. W. W. Phelps. 
In 1833, the gift of tongues 
was conferred ; the re-translation 
of the bible finished; Bislioj) 
Partridge Ivccanii' the ecclesias- 
tical head (if the church in Zion ; 
the "Missouri Eiuptirer' was es- 
tablisluil by Messrs. Davis and 
Kelley. At a conference of 
elders in Kirtland, May 3, 1834, 
the body ecclesiastic was first 
named "The Church of Jesiis 
Christ of Latter-Day Saints." In 1835, 
a quorum of twelve apostles was organized, 
among whom were Brigham Young and 
H. C. Kimball, the former, being then 
thirty-four years old, assuming the head- 
ship of the apostolic college, and, receiv- 
ing the gift of tongues, was sent on a 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



311 



missionary tour toward tlie east. Young 
was so devoted a disciple of Mormonism, 
that he said of Smith, its founder : 

" Tlie doctrine he teaches is all 1 know 
al)out the matter ; lu'ing anything against 
that, if j'ou can. As to anything else, I 
do not care if he acts like a devil ; he has 
brought forth a doctrine that will save us, 
if we will abide by it. He may get drunk 
every day of his life, sleep with his neigh- 
bor's wife every night, run horses and 
gamble ; I do not care anything about 
that, for I never embrace any man in my 
faith." 

Eigdon was equally bold and lawless ; 
who declared, in behalf of the prophet and 
his followers, in a sermon preached at 
Far West, to a great concourse, 

"We take God and all the holy angels 
to witness this day, that we warn all men, 
in the name of Jesus Christ, to come on 
us no more forever. The man, or the set 
of men, who attempts it, does it at the 
expense of their lives. And that mob that 
comes on us to disturb us, it shall be 
between them and us a war of extermina- 
tion, for we will follow them till the last 
drop of their blood is spilled, or else they 
will have to exterminate us. For we will 
carry the seat of war to their own houses 
and their own families, and one party or 
the other shall be utterly destroyed." 

On the 20th of July, 1837, Elders Kim- 
ball, Hyde, Richards, Goodson, Russell, 
and Priest Eielding, sailed from New 
York for Liverpool, to preach and propa- 
gate Mormonism, and j^roselytes multi- 
plied, especially in northern Europe, so 
plausibly was Smith's imposture set be- 
fore them ; midtitudes of these converts, 
male and female, emigrated to the "prom- 
ised land." The next j'ear was dis- 
tinguished by continued scenes of violence, 
attended with bloodshed and death, be- 
tween the people of Missouri and the 
Mormons, among the killed being Captain 
Fearnot, aZ/ns Patten, leader of the Danite 
baud. Smith, and his brother Hyrum, 
together with such kindred spirits as 
Young, Phelps, Pratt, Hedlock, Turley, 
Rockwell, Higbee, were particularly ob- 



noxious to the hatred of the Missourians ; 
and, throughout all the western states, no 
curse that could come upon a neighbor- 
hood was considered so great as that of the 
advent of Mormon settlers. 

Early in the summer of 1839, Smith 
visited the town of Commerce, in Illinois, 
at the invitation of Dr. Isaac Galland, of 
whom he obtained, gratis, a large tract of 
land, to induce the Mormons to immigrate, 
and ujion receipt of revelation called his 
people around him, and sold them the 
town lots. This place was afterward called 
Nauvoo, "the beautiful site," and soon 
numbered thousands of souls ; the build- 
ing of the famous temj)le was commenced 
the next year. Pol3'gamy dates from 
about this time, being authorized as 
Smith's privilege, according to a " revela- 
tion " received by him. Smith was re- 
peatedly arrested in 1842-3-4, on charges 
of murder, treason, and adultery, but 
managed either to escape or be acquitted, 
until the fatal summer of 1844. The 
greatest crimes charged against him were 
those testified to by some of his once 
devoted but afterwards disgusted and 
seceding disciples, and who would have 
been glad to execute summary vengeance 
upon his head. 

The exasperation produced by the Mor- 
mons murdering Lieutenant Governor 
Boggs (under Governor Dunklin), of Mis- 
souri, in May, 1843, was widespread and 
most intense, and the swarming of the 
sect into Illinois, caused the inhabitants of 
the latter to arm themselves. Governor 
Eord, of Illinois, jiersuaded the Smiths, 
under pledge of his word, to yield up their 
arms, and sent them prisoners, luider 
the charge of sixty militia men, to Car- 
thage. Here the prisoners were at once 
arrested for treason. Instead of being 
confined in cells, the two Smiths, at the 
instance of their friends, were put into 
the debtors' room of the prison, and a 
guard assigned for their security. But, 
on the 27th of June, 1844, a large body 
of exasperated and lawless men, with their 
faces painted and blackened, broke into 
the jail, and summarily killed both Joseph 



312 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



and Hyriiin Smith, and instantly fled. In 
his struggle against the nuih, the |)ro[)het 
attempted, as a last resort, to leap from the 
window, when two balls pierced him from 
the door, one of which entered his right 
breast, and he staggered lifeless, exclaim- 
ing, ' Lord, mi/ God/' He fell on liis 
left side, a dead man. The excitement in 
all parts of the west, following this event, 
was tremendous. 

An address was now sent forth to ''all 
the saints in the world,"' announcing, with 
lamentations, the death of "the Lord's 
Prophet." I5righam Young, a native of 
AVhittinghani, Yt., succeeded to the j)rcsi- 
dency, tlius defeating Ivigdon, who claimed 
the office, but who was forthwith cut off, 
and delivered over to the 'buffetings of 
Satan.' The next great stcj) was the 
abandonment of Nauvoo, on accoujit of the 
bitter liostility of the Illinoisians to the 
existence of Mormonism in their midst. 
Nauvoo was a city regularly laid out with 
broad streets crossing at right angles, and 
the houses were built generally of log.s, 
with a few frame and brick biiildiiigs 
interspersed. A temj)lc, one hundred and 
thirty feet long by ninety wide, was 




UORUON TEMPLE. 

erected of polished limestoi e ; the bap- 
tistry was in the basement, and held a 
largo stone basin supported by twelve 
colossal oxen. In 1S4S, tliis building was 
set on fire by an incendiary, and all con- 
sumed except the walls, which were finally 
destroyed by a tornado, in 1S.">0. 

Tiie valley of the (treat Salt Lake, in 
Utah, now became the new " promised 



land " of the exiled Mormons, and, cross- 
ing the frozen ilississijipi in the winter of 
1846, the exodus began ; in the summer 
ensuing, they commenced to lay the 
foundations of the city, — the " New Jeru- 
salem." Soon after, the whole of this vast 
region was surveyed by Messrs. Stansbury 
and Gunnison, by order of the federal 
government, and a bill organizing Utah 
into a Territory having been signed by 
President Fillmore, Brigham Young was 
appointed governor, and thus became the 
supreme head of the church and state. 
He has ruled with consummate tact and 
success, overcoming all opposition from 
" Gentile " sources, and even keeping at 
bay the national government itself. He 
declared, " I am, and will he, governor, 
and no jiower on earth can hinder it, until 
the Lord Almighty says, 'Brigham, you 
need not he governor any longer.' " Under 
his teachings and practice, jjolygamy be- 
came firmly established and universal, the 
prohibitory laws of the United States in 
this matter being openly defied. His 
conduct he defended in powerful liarangues 
to the faithful, who were always ready, at 
the word of command, to fight or murder, 
in behalf of their political and spiritual 
chief, if occasion required. Their sec- 
tarian literature has been very voluminous, 
and has appeared in almost every language ; 
for even in the old world — throughout 
Europe, as also in Asia, Africa, Australia, 
and I'olynesia, — scores of thousands of the 
simj)le-niinded have become duj)es of tlie 
itinerant impostors eent forth from liead- 
(piartcrs to convert the " gentile " world. 
Of Young, j)ersonally, the description 
usually given is that of a man rather 
above the medium lieight and somewhat 
corpulent, with a face indicative of jjcne- 
tration and firmness ; hair parted on the 
side, and reaching below the ears with a 
lialf curl ; the forehead somewhat narrow, 
thin eyebrows, the eyes between gray and 
blue, with a calm, composed, and some- 
what reserved expression ; nose, fine and 
sharp-pointed, and bent a little to the left ; 
lips close, the lower one evincing the 
sensual voluptuary : ibei'ks rather fleshy. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



313 




SALT LAKE CITY, THE MOKM 



the side line between the nose and 
the mouth considerably broken, and the 
chin peaked ; hands well made ; the whole 
figure large, broad-shouldered, and stoop- 
ing a little when standing. In dress, no 
Quaker could be neater or plainer, — all 
gray homespun, except the cravat and 
waistcoat ; the coat of antique cut, and, 
like the pantaloons, baggy, and the but- 
tons black ; a neck-tie of dark silk, with 
a large bow, was loosely passed around a 
starchless collar, which turned down of its 
own accord ; the waistcoat of black satin 
-^-once an article of almost national dress 
— single-breasted, and buttoned nearly to 
the neck, and a jjlain gold chain passed 
into the jjocket. In manner, affable and 
impressive, simple and courteous, exciting 
in strangers a consciousness of his power. 
The number of his wives was never known 
by any person but himself ; and the multi- 
tude of his children, thus born into the 
world, constituted his chief boast. Those 
who would like to know more of the 
details of a Mormon prophet's harem will 
find them amply portraj-ed in the works 
of Burton, Ferris, Waite, Bowles, Colfax, 
and other travelers in that region. 

Salt Lake City, about two thousand 
miles west of New York, is situated on 
the east bank of the river Jordan, a stream 
which connects Great Salt Lake and Lake 
Utah ; it is separated as well from the 
western frontier as from the P.icific coast, 
by dreary, timberless prairies, sand plains, 
and high mountains, the mountains on 
the east side being covered with perpetual 



snow, and their summits are nearly two 
miles above the level of the sea. Thus, 
the Mormons form an isolated people, 
and their home is almost shut out from 
the rest of mankind. The city was laid 
out so as to contain two hundred and 
sixty blocks of ten acres each, divided 
into eight lots and four public squares ; 
the streets, one hundred and twenty-eight 
feet wide, and a stream of water flowing 
through each, for the purpose of irrigat- 
ing the gardens; and the squares being 
adorned with trees from the four quarters 
of the globe, and adorned with fountains. 
The houses are built of sun-dried brick, 
and are generallj' small and of one story, 
with separate entrances where there are 
several wives. The great temple, built in 
the Gothic style, is one hundred and fifty 
feet long and sixty feet wide. One of the 
largest buildings is the tithing-house, 
where is deposited one-tenth of all the 
products of the territory for the benefit 
of the church. Almost " all the authorities 
of Zion " live in this, the great city 
thereof, with families comprising from 
twenty-five to two wives each, and there 
are many more girls than boys born. The 
pojjulation is composed largely of English, 
Scotch, Welsh and Danes. In the taber- 
nacle, a large public building, the jieojile 
assemble on the Sabbath, to hear the 
Mormon gospel preached by the prophet 
and his coadjutors. In another building, 
called the Endowment House, the secret 
order.s, sacred ordinances, and solemn nij^s- 
teries of Mormonism are administered. 



XXXIV. 

CAREER, CAPTURE, AND EXECUTION OF GIBBS, THE 
MOST NOTED PIRATE OF THE CENTURY.— 1831. 



His Bold, Enterprising, Desperate, and Successful War, for Alany Years. Against the Commerce of all 
Nations. — Terror inspired by His Name as tlie Scourge of the Ocean and the Enemy of Mankind. — 
Scores of Vessels Taken, Plundered, and Destroyed. — Their Crews and Passengers, Male and Female, 
Instantly Butchered. — Gibbs Born in Rhode Island — Joins the Privateer Maria. — Captures Her in a 
Mutiny. — Hoists the Black Flag. — Gibbs Chosen Leader. — Rendezvous at Cape Antonio. — Booty 
Sold in Havana. — No Lives Spared. — One Beautiful Girl E.xcepted. — Atrocious Use Made of Her. — 
The Maria Chased All Day. — Her Final Abandonment. — A New Craft: Rich Prizes — Fight with a 
United States Frigate. — Gibbs Overmatched and Flees — Fatal Voyage in the Vineyard. — Lands at 
Southampton, L. I. — His Infamy Brought to Light. — Arrested With His Treasure. — Confession of 
His Guilt. — Black Record of Crime and Blood. — Close of His Ill-Starred Life. 



•* I.OB(linff a pirate'fl crew, 
OVr tlic ilnrk .tn I llew. 
Wild waA the lite we led. 
Many the miuU that uped. 
Many the hcartH that bled. 

By our atcrn onlera." 




APPKAL OF A nIRI, TO OIBB9 TO .11MUK llllt ill r 



OTWITHSTAXDING a new generation 
has come upon the stage of human af- 
fairs, since "'Gibbs, the pirate," startled 
the world by his bohl and atrocious 
career on the high seas, liis deeds are 
still read of, rehearsed, and listened to, 
\ with the same wondering interest and 
involuntary shudder, as when, in the 
days of their actual occurrence, they broke 
fre.*h u]ion the ears of an astonished and 
outraged community; — a career which, in 
spite of the destiny that inevitably awaits 
such a course of crime against mankind, 
seemed for j-ears to defy and baffle all the 
efforts of pursuit and of retributive justice. 
From the various accessible resources of 
information concerning this notorious 
adept in piracy and blood, it appears that 
his native place was Providence, 11. I., his 
real name, James D. Jeffers, having been 
given up, and that of ("harles Gibbs sub- 
stituted. Bearing this name, at the very 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



315 



mention of which mankind wonki after- 
wards slnidder, lie became, in the widest 
and most ghastl_y sense of the term, ever 
applied to man, the Scourge of the Ocean. 

In November, 1830, there sailed from 
New Orleans for Philadelphia, the brig 
Vineyard, Captain William Thornby, with 
William Roberts as mate, and the follow- 
ing crew : Charles Gibbs, John Brownrigg, 
Robert Dawes, Henry Atwell, James 
Talbot, A. Church, and Thomas I. Wans- 
ley, a young negro native of Delaware, 
who acted as cook. When the Vineyard 
had been five days at sea, Wansley made it 
known to the crew that there were fifty 
thousand dollars in specie on board. This 
information excited their cupidity, and 
induced them to secretly consult as to 
whether and how they could get the money 
into their own hands. Many conversa- 
tions took place on the subject, and while 
these were going on, Dawes, who was a 
mere boy, was sent to converse with the 
officers, in order to divert their attention 
from what was passing. 

Finally, the resolution was taken, that 
as the master and mate were old men, it 
was time thej' should die and make room 
for the rising generation. Moreover, they 
were of the opinion that as the mate was 
of a peevish disposition, he deserved death. 
It does not appear, however, that Brown- 
rigg or Talbot had any part in these plans, 
or in the foul deed that resulted from 
them. The conspirators agreed to commit 
the fiendish crimes of murder and piracy, 
on the night of the twenty-third. The 
murder of the master was, by agreement, 
to Gibbs and Wansley, and that of the 
mate to Atwell and Church. This plan 
was carried out. 

The pirates took possession of the vessel, 
and Wansley busied himself in wiping up 
the blood that had been spilled on deck, 
declaring, with an oath, that though he 
had heard that the stains of the blood of a 
murdered person could not be effaced, he 
would wipe away these. Then, after 
drinking all round, they got up the money. 
It was distributed in equal portions to all 
on board; Brownrigs and Talbot being 



assured that, if they would keep the secret, 
and share the plunder, they should receive 
no injur3'. 

They then steered a north-easterly 
course toward Long Island, till they came 
within fifteen or twenty miles of South- 
ampton light, where they resolved to leave 
the vessel and take to the boats, though 
the wind was blowing very hard. Atwell 
scuttled the brig and got into the jolly- 
boat with Church and Talbot, while 
Gibbs, Wansley, Dawes, and Brownrigg, 
put off in the long-boat. The jollj'-boat 
swamped on a bar two miles from the 
shore, and all on board were drowned. 
The long-boat was also in great danger, 
and was only saved from a like fate by 
throwing over several bags of specie. Nev- 
ertheless, the crew at last got on shore at 
Pelican Island, where they buried their 
money, and found a sportsman who told 
them where they were. Thej' then crossed 
to Great Barn Island, and went to the 
house of a INIr. Johnson, to whom Brown- 
rigg gave the proper information. Thence 
they went to the house of a Mr. Leonard, 
where they procured a wagon to carry 
them farther. As they were about to get 
in, Brownrigg cried aloud that they might 
go where the}' pleased, but he would not 
accompany them, for they wei-e mui'derers. 
On hearing this, Mr. Leonard obtained the 
presence of a magistrate, and Gibbs and 
Dawes were apprehended. Wansley es- 
caped into the woods, but was followed 
and soon taken. The maritime, and 
indeed the whole civilized world, breathed 
freer, when the news spread abroad of the 
great pirate's capture. 

The evidence of the guilt of the accused 
was full and conclusive. Their own con- 
fession of the crime, voluntarily made to 
Messrs. Merritt and Stevenson, who had 
the custody of them from Flatbush to New 
York, could have left not the shadow of a 
doubt on the mind of any person who heard 
the testimony of those officers. Wansley 
told the whole story, occasionally prompted 
by Gibbs; and while both admitted that 
Brownrigg was innocent, their confession 
was not so favorable as to Dawes. 



316 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Gilil)s was .irraignod for tlie nmriU'r of 
William Roberts, and Wausley for tliat of 
Captain Tliornby, and, being found guilty, 
judgment in accordance with the law was 
pronounced. During the trial, the iron 
visage of Gibbs was occasionally changed 
by a transient emotion ; he had evidently 
abandoned all hope of escape, and sat the 
greater part of his time with liis hands 
between his knees, calmly surveying the 
scene before him. AVan.sley was more 
agitated, and trembled visibly when lie 
rose to hear the verdict of the jury. 

And now, as was to be expected, there 
was revealed the bloody annals of Gilbs's 
ill-starred career. 




PIltATi: GIDDS. 



It was in the latter part of 1813, that 
he entered on board a ship bound to New 
Orleans and thence to Stockholm. On the 
Iiomeward passage they were forced to put 
into Bristol, England, in distress, where 
the ship was condemned, and he proceeded 
to Liverpool. He returned to the United 
States in the shij) Amity, Captain Max- 
well. Shortly after his arrival home, the 
death of an uncle put him in possession 
of about two thousand dollars, with which 
lie established himself in the grocery busi- 
ness in Boston, an undertaking which did 
not prove profitable, so that he was often 
under the necessity of applying to liis 
father for assistance, which was alwaj's 
afforded, together with the best advice. 
The stock was finally sold at auction, for 
about nine hundred dollars, which he soon 
squandered in tippling-houses and among 
profligates. His father, hearing of his 
dissijtation, wrote affectionately to him to 
come home, but he stubbornly refused, and 
again turned his attention to ^he eea. 



Sailing in the ship John, Ca]>tain Brown, 
bound for the island of Margaretta, he 
left the sliip soon after its arrival at that 
place, and entered on board the Colombian 
privateer Maria, Captain Bell. They 
cruised for about two months in the Gulf 
of Mexico, around Cuba, but the crew 
becoming dissatisfied in consequence of 
the non-payment of their prize-money, a 
mutiny arose, the crew took possession of 
the schooner, and landed the officers near 
Pensacola. A number of days elapsed 
before it was finally decided by them what 
course to pursue. Some advised that they 
.should cruise as before, under the Colom- 
bian commission ; others proposed to hoist 
the black flag. They cruised for a short 
time without success, and it was then 
unajiimousli/ determined to hoist the black 
flag, and wage war against the commerce 
of all nations. Their bloody jiurjtose, 
however, was not carried into full and 
immediate execution; for, though they 
boarded a number of vessels, they allowed 
them to pass unmolested, there being no 
specie on board, and their cargoes not 
being convertible into anything valuable 
to themselves. 

At last, one of the crew, named Anto- 
nio, suggested that an arrangement could 
be made with a man in Havana, that 
would be mutually beneficial ; that he 
would receive all their goods, sell them, 
and divide the proceeds. This plan being 
received favorably, they ran uji within 
two miles of Moro Castle, and sent Anto- 
nio on shore to see the merchant and make 
a contract with him. Previous to this, 
Gibbs was chosen to navigate the vessel. 
Antonio succeeded in arranging every- 
thing according to their wishes, and Cape 
Antonio was aplioiiited to be the place of 
rendezvous. The merchant was to furnish 
facilities for transporting the goods to 
Havana, which he did for more than three 
years. 

The Maria now put to sea, with a crew 
of about fifty men, mostly Spaniards and 
Americans, with every ex])ectation of suc- 
cess. The first vessel she fell in with was 
the Indispensable, an English ship bound 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



317 



to Havana, which was taken and carried 
to Cape Antonio. The crew -were imme- 
diately destroyed ; those who resisted ivere 
hacked to pieces; those who offered no 
resistance tvere resei-ved to be shot and 
thrown overboard. The maxim to which 
they scrupulously adhered, was, that ' dead 
men tell no tales.' According to Gibbs's 
statement, he never had occasion to give 
orders to begin the work of death. The 
Spaniards were eager to accomplish that 
object without delay, and generally every 
unlLappy victim disappeared in a very few 
•minutes after the inrates' feet trod the 
deck of the fated vessel. 

Gibbs now directed his course towards 
the Bahama Banks, where they captured a 
brig, belie\-ed to be the William, of New 
York, from some port in Mexico, with a 
cargo of furniture, destroyed the crew, took 
the vessel to Cape Antonio, and sent the 
furniture and other articles to their accom- 
plice in Havana. Sometime during this 
cruise, the pirate was chased for nearly a 
whole day, by a United States frigate, 
supposed to be the John Adams ; he 
hoisted patriot colors, and finally escaped. 
In the early part of the summer of 1817, 
they took the Earl of Moria, an English 
ship from London, with a cargo of dry- 
goods. The crew were destroyed, the 
vessel burnt, and the goods carried to the 
Cape ; here the pirates had a settlement 
with their Havana agent, and tlie proceeds 
were divided according to agreement. 
Gibbs repaired personallj' to Havana, in- 
troduced himself to the merchant, and 
made arrangements for the successful pros- 
ecution of his piracies. While there, he 
became acquainted with many of the En- 
glish and American naval officers, and, 
adroitly concealing his own character and 
calling, inquired respecting the success of 
their various expeditions for the suppres- 
sion of piracy, and all their intended 
movements ! 

On the return to Cape Antonio, Gibbs 
found his comrades in a state of mutiny 
and rebellion, and that several of them had 
been killed. His energy checked the dis- 
turbance, and all agreed to submit to his 



orders, and put any one to death who 
should dare to disobey them. 

During the cruise which was made in 
the latter part of 1817 and the beginning 
of 1818, a Dutch ship from Curacoa was 
captured, with a cargo of West India 
goods, and a quantity of silver plate. The 
passengers and crew, to the number of 
thirty, were all killed, with the exception 
of a young and beautiful female, about 
seventeen, tvho, in the midst of the awful 
scene of death-bloivs and shrieks and man- 
gled corpses, kneeled upon the gory deck, 
and ptiteously imp)lored Gibbs to save her 
life ! The appeal was successful ; and he 
promised to save her, though he knew it 
would lead to dangerous consequences 
among his crew. She was carried to Cape 
Antonio, and kept there about two months ; 
but the dissatisfaction increased until it 
broke out at last into open mutiny, and 
one of the pirates was shot by Gibbs for 
daring to lay hold of her with a view to 
beating out her brains. Gibbs was com- 
pelled, however, in the end, to submit her 
fate to a council of war, at which it was 
decided that the preservation of their own 
lives made her sacrifice indispensable. He 
therefore acquiesced in the decision, and 
gave orders to have her destroyed by 
poison, which was immediately adminis- 
tered to her, and thus the young, beautiful, 
and unfortunate creature was launched 
into the other world. 

Shortly after this, the piratical schooner 
was driven ashore near the Cape, and so 
much damaged that it was found necessary 
to destroy her. A new, sharp-built 
schooner was in consequence provided by 
their faithful ally in Havana, called the 
Picciana, and dispatched to their rendez- 
vous. 

In this vessel, they cruised successfully 
for more than four years. Among the 
vessels taken and destroyed — and their 
crews and passengers remorselessly hurried 
into eternity — were the Belvidere, Dido, a 
Dutch brig, the British barque Larch, and 
many others. 

Gibbs further stated that he had been 
concerned in robbing forty different ves- 



318 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 




c.inns uvTciiERiNG THE cuiiw or one of mis ri<i/.i;s. 



sels. He gave the names of upwards of a 
score of vessels taken by the pirates under 
his command, the crews of which had been 
murdered. 

Sometime in the course of the yoa.v 
1819, Gihl.s left Havana for the Un"ited 
States, carrying with him about thirty 
thousand dollars. He passed several 
weeks in New York, and then went to 
Boston, whence he took ]iassage for Liver- 
pool, in the sliip Enicialil. Before he 
sailed, however, he had sipiandcred a large 
jiart of his money in dissijiation and gam- 
bling. He remained in Liverpool a few 
months, and then returned to Boston in 
the ship Topaz. His residence in Liver- 



pool, at that time, was testified to by a 
female in New York, who was well 
acquainted with him there, and where, as 
she stated, he lived like a wealthy gentle- 
man. In speaking of his acquaintance 
with this female. Giblis said : 

''I foil in with a woman, who, I thought, 
was all virtue, but she deceived me, and I 
•am sorry to say that a heart that never 
felt abashed at scenes of carnage and 
blood, was made a child of. for a time, by 
her, and I gave way to dissipation and 
torment. How often, when the fumes of 
liquor have subsided, have I thought of 
my good and affectionate parents, and of 
their godly advice ! But when the little 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



319 



monitor began to move within me, I imme- 
diately seized the cup- to hide myself from 
myself, and drank until the sense of intoxi- 
cation was renewed. My friends advised 
me to behave like a man, and jjromised me 
their assistance, but the demon still 
haunted me, and I sjiurned their advice." 

He readily admitted his participation in 
the Vineyard mutinj-, revolt and robbery, 
and in the murder of Thornbj' ; and, so 
impressed was he with the universal detes- 
tation and horror which his heinous crimes 
had excited against him, that he often 
inquired if he should not be murdered in 
the streets, in case he had his liberty, and 
was recognized. He would also frequently' 
exclaim, " Oh, if I had got into Algiers, 
I should never have been in this jirisoii, 
to be hung for murder ! "' 

Though he gave no evidence of contri- 
tion for the horrible and multiplied crimes 
of which he confessed himself guilty, j-et 
he evidently dwelt upon their recollection 
with great unwillingness. If a question 
was asked him, in regard to how the crews 
were generally destroyed, he answered 
quickly and briefly, and instantly changed 
the topic either to the circumstances 
attending his trial, or to his exploits in 
Buenos Aj'res. On being asked why with 
such cruelty he killed so many persons, 
after getting all their money, which was 
all he wanted, he rej)lied that the laws 
themselves were responsible for so many 
murders ; that, by those laws, a man has 
to differ death for piracy, and the punish- 
ment for murder is no more, — besides, all 
witnesses are out of the way, and, conse- 
quentlj', if the punishment was different, 
there would not be so many murders. 

On Friday, April twenty-second, 1831, 



Gibbs and Wansley paid the penalty of 
their crimes. Both jsrisoners arrived at 
the gallows about twelve o'clock, accom- 
panied by the marshal, his aids, and a 
body of United States marines. Two 
clergymen attended them to the fatal spot, 
where, everything being in readiness, the 
ropes were adjusted about their necks, and 
prayers offered. Gibbs addressed the 
sp)ectators, acknowledging the heinousness 
of his career, and adding — 

" Should any of the friends of those 
whom I have been accessory to, or engaged 
in, the murder of, be now present, before 
my Maker I beg their forgiveness — it is 
the only boon I ask — and, as I hope for 
pardon through the blood of Christ, surely 
this request will not be withheld by man, 
from a worm, like mj'self, standing, as I 
do, on the very verge of eternity ! An- 
other moment, and I cease to exist — and 
could I find in mj' bosom room to imagine 
that the spectators now assembled had 
forgiven me, the scaffold would have no 
terrors. My first crime was piracy, for 
which my life would pay the forfeit on 
conviction ; no punishment could be 
inflicted on me farther than that, and 
therefore I had nothing to fear but detec- 
tion, for had my offenses been millions of 
times more aggravated than they now are, 
death must have satisfied all." 

Gibbs shook hands with Wanslej', the 
officers and clergjanen, the caps were then 
drawn over the faces of the two criminals, 
and a handkerchief dropped hj Gibbs as a 
signal to the executioner caused the cord 
to be severed, and in an instant they were 
suspended in air. Wansley expnred with 
only a few slight struggles. Gibbs died 
hard. 



XXXV. 



NULLIFICATION OUTBREAK IN SOUTH CAROLINA, 

UNDER THE LEAD OF CALHOUN, McDUFFIE, 

IIAYNE, AND OTHERS.— 18:32. 



State Sovereignty, Instead of the B'ederal Government, Claimed by them to be Supreme. — The Wratli 
of President Jackson Aroused —Uis Stern and Heroic Will Upholds the National Authority and 
Saves the Union from Anarchy and from the Perils of Disnienilwrnient. — Momentous Nature of 
this Contest. — The Tarirt' a Kock of Otiense — Action in the "Palmetto" State. — Anti-National 
and Defiant.— Pacific Proposals Scouted. — A Political Dinner in Washington. — Jackson's and Cal- 
houn's Toasts. — Plan of the Conspirators. — A Bombshell in Their Camp. — Convention of Agitators 
in Columbia — Nullification Ordinance Passed. — " Old Hickory " Bold and Resolute. — His Peremp- 
tory Proclamation. — South Carolina's Counter-Blast. — United States Troops Sent to Charleston. — 
Presidential Idea of Compromising. — Clay's Conciliation Scheme. — The Leading Nullifiers in 
Danger. — Jackson Threatens to Hang Them — They are Housed from Bed at Midnight. — Two 
Allernalives Presented. — Swallowing a Bitter Pill. 




** Thou too. tail on. O thip of State.- 
SbU on, O l^nluN. etrofiK aoil K'^Ati 
HuiimiiiTv. witti ull iln fi'ura. 
Willi all flft hoixi of I'ulure yi-tre. 
Is tmogiii^; breatbicBs on thy fittu I" 



ITTEK and momentous was the political contest 
wliicli shook the Union to its very center in 1832, the 
year in wliich culminated, in all its violence, the 
South Carolina doctrine of State Rights and Xulliti- 
■ iition. In a general, preliminary way, the nature or 
' rigin of this great sectional conflict presents itself 
tiius : A powerful party in South Carolina, led on by 
able and ambitious politicians, contended that con- 
gres.s had no power to impose taxes for protecting 
home industry or niaiiufactures, but solely for pur- 
poses of revenue, sufficient to defray the expenses of 
the government ; that each state had a right to judge 
whether congress, in its legislation, exceeded its powers, 
and in tliat case to disobey it, — treat it as of no binding 
They therefore declared the tariff wliich passed into 
operation at the close of the session of 1832, to be null and 
void ; making it unlawful for any of the constituted authorities 
to enforce it; and disallowing all appeal to the supreme court. 
Any act which might be passed by congress to coerce them into 
obedience, they would consider as dissolving them from the 
obligation to maintain the Union, and they would i)roceed to 
organize a separate government. These views were supported 
by their legislature, and vehemently advocated by Calhoun and 
McDuffie at Wasliington, — two of the most celebrated leaders in 
public affairs, who have ever appeared in American history. 
rAvoKiiE »iATit miiLm, s. c. Their scheme, however, of defying the national government, on 



'i:«5\< 



J^A^^ 



GEEAT AI^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



321 



the assumption of tlie sovereignty of tlie 
states as principals, and the subordination 
of the federal government as a mere 
agency, found a mortal enemy in Andrew 
Jackson, who, at the very time chosen by 
the sectionalists, or nullifiers, to put their 
doctrine into practice, was chief magistrate 
of the nation. 

But, though the climax of these anti- 
national proceedings was not reached until 
this period, the great leaders had for j'ears 
been sowing the seeds of contemiit for 
federal authority and the constitution and 
Union from which that authority was de- 
rived, and, in doing this, even went so far 
as to claim that the fathers of the republic, 
especially Mr. Jefferson, held and taught 
the same principle. Of these tactics, Mr. 
Benton gives a notable example, in his 
account of the anniversary of Mr. Jeffer- 
son's birthday, April thirteenth, 1830, 
celebrated by a numerous company, that 
year, in the city of Washington ; Mr. 
Benton's account agi^eeing, in every ma- 
terial point, with that furnished by other 
pens, as follows : 

It was the birthday of Thomas Jeffer- 
son, and those who attended the party did 
so avowedly for the purpose of honoring 
the memory of the author of the Declar- 
ation of Independence. Such at least was 
the tenor of the invitation. Andrew Jack- 
son, the president of the United States, 
was there. So was John C. Calhoun, the 
vice-president. Three of the cabinet min- 
isters, namely, Van Buren, Eaton, and 
Branch, were there ; and members of con- 
gress and citizens not a few. 

It soon became manifest to the more 
sagacious ones, that this dinner party and 
the day were to be made the occasion for 
inaugurating the new doctrine of nullifi- 
cation, and to fix the paternity of it on 
Mr. Jefferson, the great apostle of democ- 
racy in America. Many gentlemen pres- 
ent, perceiving the drift of the whole per- 
formance, withdrew in disgust before sum- 
moned to the table ; but the sturdy old 
president, perfectly informed, remained. 

When the dinner was over and the cloth 
removed, a call was made for the regular 
21 



toasts. These were twenty-four in num- 
ber, eighteen of which, it is alleged, were 
written by Mr. Calhoun. These, in multi- 
farious forms, shadowed forth, now dimly, 
now clearly, the new doctrine. They 
were all received and honored in various 
degrees, when volunteer toasts were an- 
nounced as in order. 

The president of the United States was 
of course first called upon for a sentiment. 
His tall form rose majestically, and with 
that sternness appropriate to the peculiar 
occasion, he cast that apalling bomb-shell 
of words into the camp of the conspira- 
tors, which will forever be a theme for 
the commendation of the patriot and the 
historian — " The Fedekal Union : it 
MUST BE Pkesekved ! " He was fol- 
lowed by the vice-president, Mr. Calhoun, 
who gave as his sentiment — " The Union : 
next to our Liberty the most dear ; may 
we all remember that it can only be pre- 
served b}' respecting the rights of the 
States, and distributing equall3' the benefit 
and burden of the Union ! " Those who 
before doubted the intentions of Calhoun 
and his southern friends, and were at a 
loss to understand the exact meaning of 
the dinner party, were no longer embar- 
rassed by ignorance. In that toast was 
presented the issue — liberty before union 
— supreme state sovereignty — false com- 
plaints of inequality of benefits and bur- 
dens — ' our rights ' as we choose to define 
them, or disunion. From that hour, there- 
fore, the vigilant old president watched the 
South Carolina conspirator, his lieutenant, 
with the searching e^'es of unslumbering 
suspicion. 

But the opposition of South Carolina 
to a protective tariff dated farther back 
than this. In 1820, and again in 1825, 
the legislature of that state protested 
against all such congressional measures, 
and in 1827 instructed her representatives 
at Washington to maintain these views, 
to the fullest extent, on the floor of con- 
gress. The next year, she entered a for- 
mal protest and resolutions against any 
right of congress to impose protective 
duties on imported goods. More resolu- 



322 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



tions, adilressoil to other states, followed 
in December, 1828, and in 1830 the state 
Icgishitiiro most forcibly reaffirmi-d tlie 
doctrinos to which it had previously given 
such eniiihatic expression. In fact, the 
peojdc had been worked by their leaders 
into a temiMirary frenzy. 

In an exhaustive, as well as most vivid 
and truthful review of the events per- 
taining to this exciting period in national 
affairs, a writer in the New Monthly 
Magazine has contributed one of the most 
thrilling chapters to be found in American 
history. From that source the following 
abridged narrative is derived for the most 
part: 

A prominent issue in the presidential 
election of 1832 was that of the protective 
tariff, otherwise known as the American 
System. South Carolina had virtually 
threatened to secede from the Union unless 



appointed. She refused to take an honest 
part in the 2>residential election, giving 
her votes for citizens who were not candi- 
dates. She had resolved — or rather the 
conspirators had resolved for her — not to 
be pacified with anything less than federal 
dismemberment ! 

Jackson, the chosen standard-bearer of 
the democratic party, and to which organ- 
ization the conspirators professedly be- 
longed, was re-elected ; yet the malcon- 
tents continued to defv the government, 
and exhibited the falsity' of their profes- 
sions of attachment to that party by im- 
mediately', when the result of the election 
was known, calling a convention of the 
delegates of the people of South Carolina, 
at Columbia, their state capital, for a 
rebellious purpose. 

In that convention, composed of poli- 
ticians, the professed representatives of 




OtD ST.VTE HorSE AT COLCMDIA. 



the policy of that s}-stem should be aban- 
doned b^' the government. A nervous 
apprehension of some dire impending ca- 
lamity appears to have taken possession of 
the public mind, and the congressional 
elections resulted unfavorably to the sys- 
tem. Those who loved peace in the 
national household finnlly expected now 
to see the smile of satisfaction on the face 
of South Carolina. But thev were dis- 



the people took into their own hands 
violent instrumentalities for the redress of 
alleged grievances, which the chief con- 
si)irators had prescribed. Just a fortnight 
after the election, November 24, 1832, 
which really decided the fate of the Araeri- 
can System, they sent forth from that 
convention an Ordinance of Nullification 
against it, its title being, "An ordinance 
to nullify certain acts of the Congress of 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 






the United States, purporting to be laws 
Laying duties and imposts on the im- 
portation of foreign commodities." Mr. 
Hayne, recentl}' senator in congress, was 
president of that convention, and chair- 
man of the committee of twenty-one who 
reported the ordinance of nullification. 
A fortnight after this labor was per- 
formed, the legislature of South Carolina, 
made up chietly of Calhoun's and McDuf- 
fie's disciples, evinced their sj'mpathy with 
Hayne's course by electing him governor 
of that commonwealth. 

The ordinance of nullification forbade 
all constituted authorities, state or na- 
tional, within the boundaries of South 
Carolina, to enforce the payment of duties 
imposed by the tariff laws, and disallowed 
anj' appeal, by residents of the state, to 
the United States supreme court. It was 
also ordained that all public officers should 
take an oath to obey that ordinance on 
penalty of forfeiture of office. A military 
spirit everywhere prevailed. The blue 
cockade with the Palmetto button, was 
almost universally worn. 

Having thus bound the people of the 
state hand and foot, the conspirators de- 
fiantly declared that they would not sub- 
mit to coercion by the United States, and 
that they should consider the passage by 
congress of any act declaring the ports of 
that state abolished or closed, or in any 
way interfering with their commerce as 
"inconsistent with the longer continuance 
of South Carolina in the Union ; " and 
that the people of the state would hence- 
forth " hold themselves absolved from all 
further obligation to maintain or preserve 
their political connection with the people of 
the other states," and would proceed forth- 
with to "organize a separate government, 
and do all other acts and things which sov- 
ereign and independent states may of right 
do." The ordinance was to take effect on 
the first day of February ensuing after its 
passage. It was signed by more than one 
hundred leading citizens of South Carolina, 
and thus officially communicated to the 
president of the United States. The state 
of affairs threatened a fatal crisis. 



Fortunately for the country, there was 
a man at the head of the government 
whose patriotism and courage had never 
been found wanting. It was equal to this 
emergency ! 

South Carolina, through her unscrupu- 
lous politicians, had been placed in the 
attitude of open, forcible resistance to the 
laws of the United States, which the 
president had solemnl}^ sworn to execute. 
Andrew Jackson was not a man to be 
trifled with. He quickly perceived his 
dut3', and as quickly hastened to the per- 
formance of it. The ordinance of nulli- 
fication reached him on the 1st of De- 
cember. On the tenth of the same month 
he issued a proclamation, kind but firm, 
persuasive but admonitory, in which he 
denounced the pernicious doctrine of state 
supremacy, and warned the people of 
South Carolina that they had been de- 
ceived by demagogues. " Eloquent appeals 
to your passions, to your state pride, to 
your native courage, to j'our sense of real 
injury," he said, " were used to prepare 
you for the period when the mask, which 
concealed the hidden features of disunion, 
should be taken off. It fell, and you were 
made to look with complacency on objects 
which, not long since, you would have re- 
garded with horror." Thus, perfectly 
self-poised and unterrified, he reasoned 
fraternally with them. 

In patriotic language he also appealed 
to the misguided people to snatch from the 
archives of their state the disorganizing 
edict of its convention ; " bid its members 
to reassemble, and promulgate the de- 
cided expression of your will to remain in 
the path which alone can conduct you to 
safety, prosperity, and honor. Tell them 
that, compared with disunion, all other 
evils are light, because that brings with it 
an accumulation of all. Declare that you 
will never take the field unless the star- 
spangled banner of your country shall 
float over you ; that you will not be stig- 
matized, when dead, and dishonored- and 
scorned while j'ou live, as the authors of 
the first attack on the constitution of your 
country. Its destroyers you cannot be. 



324 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



You may disturb its peace ; you may in- 
terrupt the course of its prosperity ; you 
may cloud its reputation for stability ; but 
its traiujuillit}' will be restored, its pros- 
perity' will return, and the stains upon its 
national character will be transferred and 
remain an eternal blot on the memory of 
those who caused the disorder." No 
presidential document ever caused so pro- 
found a sensation, not even that concern- 
ing the transfer of the government de- 
posits from the old United States bank 
to various local banks, under Secretary 
Taney, the successor of Duane, — an act 
which nothing less than Jackson's im- 
mense personal popularity could survive. 
Meanwhile, Governor Hayue had called 




the South Carolina legislature together, to 
take measures for enforcing the ordinance 
of nullification. They authorized the gov- 
ernor to call out the militia of the state 
for the purpose, and ordered the purchase 
of ten thousand stand of arms, and a 
requisite quantity of e(iuipments and muni- 
tions of war. The feelings of the poli- 
ticians of other states were consulted. 
Those of Virginia, Georgia, and Ala- 
bama approved of the action of the " Pal- 
metto State," and gave assurance that, in 
the event of secession, those states would 
join her in forming a southern confederacy. 
But North Carolina refused her assent to 
any such scheme. Governor Hayne, how- 



ever, issued his counter-proclamation, de- 
nouncing the attitude of the general 
governniejit towards the state of South 
Carolina, and threatening to resist to the 
last extremity. Hayne was of the same 
political stripe, in his day, as Floyd, 
Jacob Thompson, General Quitman, and 
the host of lesser marplots in congress, of 
a later era. 

The time for action had now arrived, 
and Calhoun resigned the vice-presidency 
anil took his seat in the senate of the 
United States, where he might do battle 
for disunion more potentl}'. The presi- 
dent had resolved to arrest him on his 
arrival at Washington, have him tried for 
high treason, and hung if found guilty. 
But the great southern chieftain walked 
in, slowly and deliberately, to the crowded 
senate, and, with reverential manner, and 
in a serious, solemn, and audible voice, 
took the oath to support the Constitution 
of the United States. Perhaps, at this 
moment, the prediction of Dr. Timothy 
Dwiglit that he, Calhoun, would one day 
be president of the nation, Hiished across 
the mind of the ambitious southron. 

This contemplated arrest, in the then 
condition of public feeling in the southern 
states, might have been, if carried out, a 
most pernicious step ; one that would have 
kindled the flames of civil war instantly-. 
Webster and others ])ersuaded Jackson 
not til adopt that extreme measure, but 
to endeavor to win back the deluded 
ptoijh'. The proclamation already men- 
tioned, followed; and, on the assembling 
of congress, President Jackson, in his 
annual message, called attention to the 
attitude of South Carolina, and asked for 
co-ojieration in suppressing the rising 
rebellion. He had already taken pre- 
cautionary measures. Quite a large body 
of troops, under General Scott, were 
stealthily thrown into Fort Moultrie in 
Charleston harbor, and a sbxip of war was 
sent to the same waters to protect the 
national officers of customs, if necessary, 
in the performance of their duties. 

Before the inhabitants of Charleston 
were aware that the president would re- 



GEEAT AND IMEMORABLE EVENTS. 



325 



sort to force in the maintenance of the 
laws, the national troops were before their 
faces, and the guns of Fort Moultrie were 
silently but admonishingl^' telling them 
to be careful not to interfere with the busi- 
ness of the United States custom-house ! 

The president had declared, in substance, 
in his message, that his policy would be a 
peaceful one towards the rebellious state, 
so long as peaceful measures promised to 
be effectual ; but in the event of per- 
sistent contumacy, he was prepared to 
force South Carolina into submission. 
This determination of the government, 
the presence of General Scott with a 
competent force, and the sloop-of-war in 
the harbor, caused a material abatement 
of rebellious zeal in the metropolis of the 
turbulent state, and it became evident to 
the leaders there that South Carolina would 
not be permitted to sever the bond that 
bound her to the Union. Her famous 
ordinance was not enforced ; the revenues 
were regularly collected ; and the national 
laws continued to be executed without 
interruption. Such being the case, the 
conspirators in the convention, illj- conceal- 
ing their mortification after such a dis- 
play of arrogance, resolved to postpone 
their intended forcible resistance until the 
first of February. 

On the very first day of the session of 
congress, bills for the reduction of the 
tariff were introduced. One reported by 
Mr. Verplanck, from the committee of 
waj's and means, was very favorably re- 
ceived, especially by those who wished 
to conciliate the radical opponents of the 
tariff, of the South Carolina school. But 
long debates followed, and February, as 
well as the session of congress, was draw- 
ing to a close, when, to tlie astonishment 
of everj'body, Mr. Letcher, a representa- 
tive from Kentucky, and an ardent friend 
of Mr. Clay, rose in his place and moved 
to strike out every word of the bill except 
the enacting clause, and insert in lieu 
of it a bill introduced in the senate by 
Mr. Clay, which has since been called the 
' compromise bill.' It was a formal aban- 
donment of the American s^-stem, and 



confessedly a measure to heal disaffection 
and save the Union. It proposed a 
gradual reduction of the tariff in the 
course of ten years, in such away that all 
interests would be unharmed. This com- 
promise bill ultimately passed, and the 
weapons of disunion were for a time 
foiled, as well as Calhoun's mad ambition. 

Of the secret history of this remarkable 
measure, in the passage of which Clay 
and Calhoun appeared to be in coalition, 
Mr. Benton has given a most interesting 
explanation, substantially as follows : 

The relative position of the national 
government and South Carolina, and of 
the president of the United States and 
Mr. Calhoun, in the winter of 1833, 
placed the latter in great personal peril, 
which his friends perceived and tried to 
avert. Among others consulted on the 
subject by them, was Letcher, of Ken- 
tucky, Clay's warm personal friend. He 
knew tliat South Carolina must yield, on 
some terms, to the authority and power of 
the national government, and he conceived 
the idea of a compromise by which, in so 
yielding, slie might preserve her dignity. 
He proposed it to Mr. Claj', who, sincerely 
desiring reconciliation, entertained the 
idea, and submitted it to Webster. The 
amazing intellectual plummet of the latter 
had fathomed the turbid waters of nullifi- 
cation far deeper than had the brilliant 
Keutuckian, and he instantly answered — 

"No! It will be yielding great prin- 
ciples to faction. Tlie time has come to 
test the strenrjth of the constitution and 
the f/oremment." 

Mr. Webster had heartily supported the 
force bill reported by Mr. Wilkins from the 
judiciary committee. Although opposed, 
politically, to Jackson's administration, he 
had said that he believed an unlawful com- 
bination was threatening the integritj- of 
the Union, and that he should give the 
administration a frank and heart}- sup- 
port, in all just measures for dealing 
firmly with the crisis. He was utterly 
opposed to compromising and temporizing 
measures with a rebellious faction, and 
told Mr. Clay so ; and from that time he 



326 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177C-1S7G. 



was not npprnaclipd by those who were 
willing to shield conspirators from the 
sword of justice. 

Mr. Clay drew up a ooniproniise hill and 
sent it to Mr. Calhoun liy Mr. Leti-her. 
Calhoun objected to parts of the bill most 
emphatically, and remarked that if Clay 
know the nature of his objections, he 
would at least modify those portions of 
the bill. Letcher made arrangements for 
a personal interview between these eminent 



Letcher now flew to McDuffie, Calhoun's 
ardent friend and chief coadjutor, and 
alarmed him with a startling picture of the 
president's wrath. That night, after he 
had retired to bed, Letcher was aroused 
by a Louisiana senator, Josiah S. John- 
son, who informed him that Jackson would 
not allow any more delay, and that Cal- 
houn's arrest might take place any hour. 
He begged Letcher to warn Calhoun of 
liis danger. He did so. He found the 




<^3>< -^ -^^^ 'C^^'^^^^^- 



senators, who had not been on speaking 
terms for some time. The imperious Clay 
demanded that it sliould be at his own 
room. The imperiled Calhoun consented 
to go there. The meeting was civil, but 
icy. The business was immediately en- 
tered ujion. Tiic principals were unyield- 
ing, and the conference ended without 
results. Li'tciier now hastened to the 
president, and sounded him on compro- 
mising. 

" Compromise ! " said the stern old man, 
•' I will nudfe no compromise with traitors. 
I will have no negotiations. I will execute 
the hiws. Calhoun shall be tried for 
treason, and hanged if found guilty, if he 
does not instantly cease his rebellious 



South Carolinian in bed. He told him of 
the temper and intentions of the president, 
and the consjiirator was much alarmed. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Clay and J. M. Clay- 
ton of Delaware had been in frcfpient 
consultations on the subject. Clayton 
had said to Clay, while his bill w.is linger- 
ing in the house, "These South Caro- 
linians act very badly, but they are good 
fellows, and it is a pity to let Jackson 
hang them ; " and advised him to get his 
bill referred to a new committee, and so 
modify it as to make it acceptable to a 
majority. Clay did so, and Clayton ex- 
erted all his influence to avert the ca- 
lamity whichhung over Calhoun an<l his 
friends. He assembled the manufacturers 
who had hurried to the capital when they 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



327 



]iaJ heard of tlie compromise bill, to see 
wlietlier tlu'y would not yield something, 
for the sake of conciliation and the Union. 
At a sacrifice of their interests, these 
loyal men did yield, and agreed to with- 
draw all opposition to the bill, and let it 
pass the senate, providing all the nulliliers 
should vote for certain amendments made 
by the lower house, as well as the bill 
itself. The nulliliers in committee would 
not yield. The crisis had arrived. The 
gallows was placed before Calhoun's eyes. 
Clayton earnestly remonstrated with him. 
He pointed out the danger, the folly, the 
wickedness of his course ; and notified 
him that unless the amendments were 
adopted, and that by the votes of himself 
and political friends, the bill should not 
pass; that he, Clayton, would move to lay 
it on the table when it should be reported 
to the senate, and he had strength enough 
there pledged to do it. " The president 
will then," he said, " be left free to ex- 
ecute the laws in full rigor." His object, 
he told them plainly, was to j)ut them 
squarely on the record ; to make all the 
nullifiers vote for the amendments and the 
bill, and thus cut them off from the plea of 
"unconstitutionality," which they would 
raise if the bill and amendments did not 
receive their votes. Unless they were so 
bound, he knew that the present pacifica- 
tion would be only a hollow truce, and 
that they would make this very measure, 
probably, a pretense for renewing their 
resistance to what they were pleased to 
call " unconstitutional measures " of the 
national government, and for resuming 
their march toward secession and inde- 
pendence. He was peremptory with both 
Clay and Calhoun, and warned them that 
this was the last chance for compromise. 
Mr. Clayton was ine.xorable. Clay and 
Calhoun agreed to the amendments. These 
with the bill were reported to the senate. 
All the nullifiers voted for the amendments 
in order, until they came to the last, that 
of home valuation, which was so revolting 
to the great leader of the conspirators. 
When that came up, Calhoun and his 
friends met it with the most violent op- 



position. It was the last day but one of 
the session, and a late hour in the day. 
Finding the nullifiers persistent in their 
opposition, Clayton, to their great con- 
sternation, suddenly executed his threat. 
He moved to lay the bill on the table, and 
declared it should continue to lie there. 
Mr. Clay begged him to withdraw his 
motion. Others entreated him to give a 
little more time. He was inflexible. 
There was fluttering in the bev3' of nulli- 
fiers. Calhoun and his friends retired 
behind the colonnade back of the presi- 
ding officer's chair, and there held a 
brief consultation. It was very brief, for 
time and 0]iportunity were precious. Sena- 
tor Bibb came from the trembling con- 
clave and a.sked Clayton to give a little 
more time. This was a token of yielding, 
and he complied. He withdrew his 
motion, but with the declaration that 
unless the measure, in full, was voted for 
by all the nullifiers, he should renew it. 
Instantly one of their friends moved an 
adjournment, and it was carried. A little 
time brought them to the conclusion to 
vote as Mr. Clayton demanded, but begged 
that gentleman to spare Mr. Calhoun the 
mortification of appearing on the record 
in favor of a measure against which, at 
that very time, and at his instance, troops 
were being raised in South Carolina, and 
because of which the politicians of that 
state were preparing to declare her seces- 
sion from the Union ! Mr. Clayton would 
not yield a jot. Calhoun was the chief of 
sinners in this matter, and he, of all 
others, must give the world public and 
recorded evidence of penitence, whatever 
his "mental reservations" might be. 
"Nothing would be secured," Mr. Clayton 
said, " unless his vote appears in favor of 
the measure." 

The senate met ; the bill was taken up ; 
and the nullifiers and their friends, one 
after another, yielded their objections on 
various pretenses. At length, when all 
had voted but Mr. Calhoun, he arose, pale 
and haggard, for he had had a most ter- 
rible struggle. He declared that he had 
then to determine which way he should 



328 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



vote, and at the termination of his brief 
remarks he gave liis voice in the affirma- 
tive witli the rest. It was a bitter pill for 
that proud man to swallow. The alterna- 
tive j)reseiited to him was absolute humilia- 
tion or the gallows. He chose the former. 
With that act fell the great conspir.acy to 
break up the government of the United 
States in 1832. The violent clamors 
raised in Soutli Carolina and the Gulf 
States on the appearance of Jackson's 
proclitmation .soon ceased, and the ordi- 
nance of nullification was repealed. 

To Jackson's heroic will and unfaltering 
purpose was the result due. Thus, when 
the nullification frenzy was at its height, 
the Union men in Charleston sent a 



deputation to Washington, to inform the 
president that they were daily threatened 
with an outbreak, and did not consider 
their lives safe. Scarcely waiting to hear 
the words uttered, the general sprung to 
his feet, and with a voice and a look of 
almost superhuman energy, exclaimed — 

"The lives of Union men not safe, 
while Andrew Jackson is president ! Go 
back to Charleston, and tell tlie nullifiers 
that if a liair on the head of a Union man 
is harmed, that moment I order General 
Coffee to march on Carolina with fifty 
thousand Tennessee volunteers, and if that 
does not settle the business, tell them — 
hij the Eternal! — that I will take the field 
myself, with fifty thousand more ! " 



XXXVI. 

SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER ALL OVER THE UNITED 

STATES.— 183.3. 



The Most Grand and Brilliant Celestial Phenomenon Ever Beheld and Recorded by Man. — The Whole 
Firmament of the Universe in Fiery Commotion for Several Ilonrs — Amazing Velocity, Size, and 
Profusion of the Falling Bodies — Their Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and Strange, Glowing Beauty. — 
Uneqiialed in Every Respect. — Cloudless Serenity of the Sky. — The People Wonder-Struck — 
Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignorant — Conflagration of the World 
Feareil. — Impromptu Prayer-Meetings. — Prodigious Star-Shower at Boston. — Myriads of Blood-Red 
Fire-Bails. — The Display at Niagara Falls. — Blazing Heavens, Roaring Cataracls. — Some of the 
Meteors Explode — Trains of Light in their Track. — Radiant Prismatic Hues. — Substance Compos- 
ing these Bodies — Dissipated by Bursting — One Great Central Source. — Velocity, Four Miles a 
Second. — Novel Shapes and Motions. — Hotter than the Hottest Furnace. — Possible Result to the 
Earth. — Half a Continent in Presumed Jeopardy. 



"the sonpulne flood 
Rolled a broad HlmiEhter oVr fhe plains of heaven. 
And niiture'a selt did eeem to totter on the brink of time." 




fXTENSIVE anfl magnificent showers of shooting stars have been known 
to nocur at various places in modern times ; but the most universal and 
wonderful which has ever been recorded is that 
of the thirteenth of November, 1833, the whole 
firmament, ovev all the United States, hehig 
then, for hours, in fierij commotion! No celestial 
phenomenon has ever occurred in this country, since 
its first settlement, which was viewed with such in- 
tense admiration b^- one class in the community, or 
with so much dread and alarm by another. It was 
the nil-engrossing theme of conversation and of 
scientific disquisition, for weeks and months. In- 
deed, it could not be otherwise, than that such a 
rare phenomenon, — next in grandeur and subliniit,y 
to that of a total solar eclipse, or a great comet 
stretched athwart the starry heavens, in full view 
of a wonder-struck universe, — should awaken the 
deepest interest among all beholding it. Nor is the 
memory of this marvelous scene yet extinct ; its 
sublimity and awful boaitty still linger in many minds, who also remember well the 
terror with which the demonstration was regarded, and the mortal fear excited among 
the ignorant that the end of the world had come. During the three hours of its con- 




METEoniC SHOWER AT BOSTOX. 



330 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



timiance, tlie da_v of jiulgment was be- 
lieved to be only waiting for sunrise, and, 
long after the shower had ceased, the 
morliid and superstitious still were im- 
pressed with the idea that the final day 
was at least onl^' a week ahead. Impromptu 
meetings for prayer were held in many 
places, and man}- other scones of religious 
devotion, or terror, or ahandonnient of 
worldlj- affairs, transpired, under the in- 
iluoiK-e of fear occasioned by so sudden 
and awful a display. 

Rut, though in many districts the mass 
of the population were thus panic-stricken, 
through fear, as well as want of familiarit}' 
with the history of such appearances, the 
more enlightened were profoundly awed 
at contemplating so vivid a picture of the 
apocaIy[>tic image — that of 'the stars of 
lieaven falling to the earth, even as a fig 
tree casting her untimely figs, when she is 
sliaken of a mighty wind.' In describing 
the effect of this phenomenon upon the 
black population, a southern planter says: 

'I was suddenly awakened b^- the most 
distressing cries that ever fell on my ears. 
Shrieks of horror and cries for mercy, 
could be heard from most of the negroes of 
three plantations, amounting in all to some 
six or eight hundred. While earnestly 
and breathlessly listening for the cause, I 
heard a faint voice near the door calling 
my name. I arose, and, taking my sword, 
stood at the door. At this moment I 
heard the same voice still beseeching me 
to rise, and saying, " 0, my God, the world 
is on fire! " I then opened the door, and 
it is difficult to say which excited me most 
— the awfulness of the scene, or the dis- 
tressed cries of the negroes. Upwards of 
one hundred lay prostrate on the ground, 
some speechless, and others uttering the 
bitterest moans, but with their hands 
raised, imploring God to save the world 
and them. The scene was truly awful, for 
never did rain fall much thicker than the 
meteors fell towards the earth ; east, west, 
north, and south, it was the same.' In a 
word, the whole heavens seemed in motion. 

The display, as described in Professor 
Silliman's Journal, was seen all over North 



America. The chief scene of the exhibi- 
tion was within the limits of the longitude 
of sixty-one degrees in the Atlantic ocean, 
and that of one hundred degrees in Cen- 
tral Mexico, and from the North Ameri- 
can lakes to the southern side of the island 
of Jamaica. 

Over this vast area, an appearance pre- 
sented itself far surpassing, in grandeur 
and magnificence, the loftiest reach of the 
human imagination. From two o'clock 
until broad daylight, the sky being per- 
fectly serene and cloudless, an incessant 
pla}' of dazzlingly brilliant luminosities 
was kept up in the whole heavens. Some 
of these were of great magnitude and most 
peculiar form. One, of large size, remained 
for some time almost stationary in the ze- 
nith, over the Falls of Niagara, emitting 
streams of light which radiated in all direc- 
tions. The wild dash of the waters, as con- 
trasted with the fiery commotion above 
them, formed a scene of unequaled and 
amazing sublimity. Arago computes that 
not less than two hundred and forty thou- 
sand meteors were at the same time visible 
above the horizon of Boston ! To form some 
idea of such a spectacle, one must imagine 
a constant succession of fire-balls, resem- 
bling sky-rockets radiating in all direc- 
tions, from a point in the heavens near the 
zenith, and following the arch of the sky 
towards the horizon. They proceeded to 
various distances from the radiating point, 
leaving after them a vivid streak of light, 
and usually exploding before they disaj)- 
peared. The balls were of various sizes 
and degrees of splendor ; some were mere 
points, but others were larger and brighter 
than Jupiter or Venus ; and one, in par- 
ticular, apjieared to be nearl}- of the moon's 
size. But at Niagara, no spectacle so tei^ 
ribly grand and sublime was ever before 
beheld by man as that of the firmament 
descending in fiery torrents over the dark 
and roarinrj cataract ! 

Everywhere within the range of the 
exhibition, the first appearance was that of 
fire-works of the most imposing grandeur, 
covering the entire vault of heaven with 
myriads of fire-balls resembling sky-rock- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



331 



ets. On more attentive inspection, it was 
seen that the meteors exhibited three dis- 
tinct varieties, as follows, described by Dr. 
Olmsted :— 

First, those consisting of phosplioric 
lines, apparently described by a point. 
This variety was the most numerous^ 
every-where filling the atmosphere, and 
resembling a shower of fiery snow driven 
with inconceivable velocity to the north of 
west, and transfixing the beholder with 
wondering awe. 

Second, those consisting of large fire- 
halls, which at intervals darted along the 
sky, leaving luminous trains which occa- 
sionally reinained in view for a number of 
minutes, and, in some cases, for half an 
hour or more. This kind appeared more 
like falling stars, givijig to many persons 
the ver^- natural impression that the stars 
were actually falling from the sky; and it 
was principally this spectacle which caused 
such amazement and terror among the 
unenlightened classes. 

Third, those undefined luminous bodies 
which remained nearly stationary in the 
heavens for a considerable period of time ; 
these were of various size and form. 

One of the most remarkable circum- 
stances attending this display was, that 
the meteors all seemed to emanate from 



sky, ran along the vault with immense 
velocitj', describing in some instances an 
arc of thirty or forty degrees in less than 
four seconds. The trains which they left 
were commonly white, but were sometimes 
tinged with various prismatic colors. 

One ball — seen at New Haven, and sup- 
posed to have been identical with one 
described b3- various observers — that shot 
off in the north-west direction, and ex- 
ploded a little northward of the star 
Capella, left, just behind the place of 
explosion, a phosphorescent train of pecu- 
liar beauty. The line of direction was at 
first nearl}' straight ; but it soon began to 
contract in length, to dilate in breadth, 
and to assume the figure of a serpent draw- 
ing himself up, until it appeared like a 
small luminous cloud of vapor. This 
cloud was borne eastward, — the wind 
blowing gently in that direction, — oppo- 
site to the course in which the meteor had 
proceeded, remaining in sight several 
minutes. 

Of the third variety of meteors, the fol- 
lowing are remarkable examples. At 
Poland, Ohio, a luminous body was dis- 
tinctly visible in the north-east for more 
than an hour ; it was very brilliant, in the 
form of a pruning-hook, and apparently 
twenty feet long and eighteen inches 




METEOHIC SHOWER AS SEEM AT NIAOARA FALLS. 



one and the same point; that is, if their 
lines of direction had been continued back- 
ward, they would have met in the same 
point, south-east a little from the zenith. 
They set out at different distances from 
this point, and, following the arch of the 



broad; it gradually settled towards the 
horizon, until it disappeared. At Niagara 
Palls, a large, luminous body, shaped like 
a square table, was seen nearly in the 
zenith, remaining for some time almost 
stationary, and emitting large streams of 



332 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1870. 



light. At Cliarleston, S. C, a meteor of 
extraordinary size was seen to course tlie 
heavens for a great length of time, and 
then was heard to explode with the noise 
of a cannon. 

Tile point from which the meteors 
seemed to issue, was observed, by tliose 
who fixed the position of the display 
among the stars, to be in the constellation 
Leo. At New Haven, it appeared in the 
bend of the ' sickle ' — a collection of stars 
in the breast of Leo, — a little to the west- 
ward of the star Gamma Leonis. By 
observers at other places remote from each 
other, it was seen in the same constella- 
tion, although in different parts of it. An 
interesting and important fact, in this 
connection, is, that this radiating point 
was stationari/ among the fixed stars — 
that is, that it did not move along with the 
earth, in its diurnal revolution eastward, 
but accompanied the stars in their appar- 
ent progress westward. 

According to the testimony of by far the 
greater number of observers, the meteors 
were, in general, unaccompanied by any 
very peculiar sound ; but, on the other 
hand, such a sound, proceeding, as was 
supposed, from the meteors, was said to be 
distinct!}- heard by a few observers in 
various places. These sounds are repre- 
sented either as a hissing noise, like the 
rushing of a sk}--rocket, or as explosions, 
like the bursting of the same bodies ; and 
these instances were too numerous to 
permit the supposition that they were 
imaginary. 

A remarkable change of weather, from 
warm to cold, accompanied the meteoric 
shower, or immediately followed it. In 
all parts of the United States, this change 
was remarkable for its suddenness and 
intensity. In many places, the day pre- 
ceding had been unusually warm for the 
season, but, before morning, a severe frost 
ensued, unparalleled for the time of year. 
Indeed, the seasons and atmospheric 
changes exhibited remarkable anomalies 
long after that period. Thus, in parts of 
Michigan, so uncommon!}' mild was the 
se.ason throughout the latter part of 



November, and the whole of December, 
that the Indians made maple sugar during 
this month, and the contiguous lakes 
remained unfrozen as late as January 
third. At the same period, the season in 
tlie south-western states, as far as New 
Orleans, was uncommonly cold. In most 
portions of New England, an unusually 
mild winter was succeeded by a remarka- 
bly cold and backward spring, requiring 
domestic fires to be kept throughout the 
month of May, and frequently' in the 
month of June. A succession of gales 
commenced about the time of the meteoric 
shower, first in the Atlantic ocean, and 
afterwards in various parts of the United 
States, almost unequaled in this country 
for their frequency and violence. 

The meteors were constituted of very 
light, combustible materials. Their com- 
bustibility was rendered evident by their 
exhibiting the actual phenomena of com- 
bustion, being consumed, or converted 
into smoke, with intense light and heat; 
and the extreme tenuity of the substance 
composing them is inferred from the fact 
that they were stopped hy the air. Had 
their quantity of matter been considerable, 
with so prodigious a velocity, the}' would 
have had a sufficient momentum to enable 
them to reach the earth, and the most dis- 
astrous consequences might liave ensued. 
Upon submitting this subject to accurate 
calculation, upon establislied principles, 
Dr. Olmsted ascertained that the quantity 
of heat extricated from the air by the fall- 
ing meteors, exceeded that of the liottest 
furnaces, and could be compared only to 
those immeasurable degrees of heat pro- 
duced in the laboratory of the chemist, 
before which the most refractor}' sub- 
stances are melted, and even dissii)ated in 
vapor. 

Some of the larger meteors must have 
been bodies of very great size. Dr. Smith, 
of North Carolina, and other persons in 
various places, saw a meteor which ap- 
peared as large as the full moon. If this 
body were at the distance of one humlred 
and ten miles from the observer, it must 
have had a diameter of one mile : if at a 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS, 



distance of eleven miles, its diameter was 
five hundred and twent^'-eiglit feet ; and 
if only one mile off, it must have been 
forty-eight feet in diameter. These con- 
siderations leave no doubt that many of 
the meteors were of great size, though it 
may be difficult to say precisely how large. 
The fact that they were stopped by the 
resistance of the air, proves that their 
substance was light ; still, the quantity of 
smoke, or residuum, which resulted from 
their destruction, indicates that there was 
quite a body of matter. 

The momentum of even liglit bodies of 
such size, and in such numbers, traversing 
tlie atmosphere with such astonishing 
velocity, must have produced extensive 
derangements in the atmospheric equilib- 
rium, as the consideration of certain points 
will show. 

These large bodies were stopped in the 
atmosphere, onl^' by transferring their 
motion to columns of air, large volumes of 
which would be suddenly and violently 
displaced. Cold air of the upper regions 
would be brought down to the earth ; the 
portions of air incumbent over districts of 
country remote from each other, being 
mutually displaced, would exchange places, 
the air of the warm latitudes being trans- 
ferred to colder, and that of cold latitudes 
to warmer regions ; remarkable changes 
of season would be the consequence, and 
numerous and violent gales would prevail 
for a long time, until the atmosphere 
should have regained its equilibrium. That 
the state of the weather, and the condition 
of the seasons that followed the meteoric 
shower, corresponded to these consequences 
of the disturbance of the atmospheric equi- 
librium, is a remarkable fact, and favors 
the opinion early suggested, that such 
disturbance is a natural effect of the mete- 
oric shower, and it is a consequence from 
which the most formidable dangers attend- 
ing phenomena of this kind are to be 
apprehended. 

With regard to the nature of the mete- 
ors. Dr. Olmsted, after est.iblishing the 
fact that they were combustible, light, 
and transparent bodies, infers that the 



cloud which produced the fiery shower, 
consisted of nebulous matter, analogous to 
that whicli composes the tails of comets. 
It cannot be said, indeed, precisely what 
is the constitution of the material of which 
the latter are composed ; but it is known 
that it is very light, since it meets no 
appreciable force of attraction on the plan- 
ets, moving even among the satellites of 
Jupiter without disturbing their motions, 
although its own motions, in such cases, 
are greatlj' disturbed, thus proving its 
materiality ; and, that it is exceedingly 
transparent, is evinced by the fact that 
the smallest stars are visible through it. 
Hence, so far as there can be gathered 
any knowledge of the material of the neb- 
ulous matter of comets, and of the matter 
composing these November meteors, they 
appear to be analogous to each other. 

Various hypotheses have been proposed 
to account for this wonderful phenomenon. 
The agent most readily suggesting itself 
in this and in most other unexplained 
natural appearances — electricity — has no 
known properties adequate to account for 
the production of the meteors, for the 
motions which they exhibited, or for the 
trains which, in manj' instances, they left 
behind them. And, if this agent be sup- 
posed to have some connection witli the 
light and heat which they exhibited, it is 
to be borne in mind, that the compression 
of the air which must result from the 
rapid progress of large bodies through it, 
is a sufficient cause of this. 

Magnetism has also been assigned as the 
principal agent concerned in producing 
the meteoric shower. The aurora borealis, 
and the remarkable auroral arches which 
occasionally appear in the skj-, have been 
found to have peculiar relations to the 
magnetism of the earth, arranging them- 
selves in obedience to the laws of magnetic 
attraction. Something of this kind was 
supposed by some to appear during the 
meteoric phenomenon, especially in the 
position of the apparent center or radiant- 
point, which was, as noticed by many 
observers, very nearly in the place towards 
which the dipping-needle is directed. 



334 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 




RK>rARKAIlI.E MKTFitRIO OISPLAY ON THE MISSISHIfl'I. 



From other observations, liowever, it 
appears tliat the radiant-point was not 
stationary with respect to tlie meridian, 
but acconii):inied tliestars in their westerly 
progress; tlie apparent eoineiik'nce with 
tlie polo of the dippinp;-n<'eille being, 
according to this, ])urely accidental. 

According to the view that has been 
taken, by some, of tlie origin of meteoric 
stones, namely, that of ascribing them to 
terrestrial comets, the hypothesis has been 
suggested, that the meteors in question 
might have a similar origin. But the 
body which affor(lc<l the meteoric shower, 
could not have been of the nature of a 
satellite to the earth, because it remained 



so long stationary with resi)ect to the 
earth — at least two liours, — a period suffi- 
cient to have carried it nearly round the 
earth in a circular orbit. 

Nor can it be supposed that the earth, 
in its annual ])rogress, came into the vicin- 
itj' of a nebula, which was either station- 
ary, or wandering lawless through space. 
Such a collection of matter could not 
remain stationary within the solar system, 
in an insulated state; and hail it been in 
motion in any other direction than that in 
which the earth was moving, it would soon 
have been separated from the earth, since, 
during the eight hours while the meteoric 
shower lasted, — and perhaps, in all its 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



335 



wide range, it lasted iimcli longer, — the 
eartli moved in its orbit tlirougli tlie space 
of nearly five hundred and lifty thousand 
miles. 

In connection with the account of this 
meteoric shower, mention may be made of 
a remarkable light, seen in the east at the 
time of that great display', and subse- 
quently in the west after twilight at differ- 
ent times, until the month of May, which 
light assumed different aspects, corre- 
sponding, apparently, to those which the 
body revolving around the sun, in the 
manner contemplated by theory, would 
occupy. Hence it was conjectured, that 
this luminous appearance proceeded from 
the body itself^ which afforded the mete- 
oric shower. It has also been suggested, 
that this light may result from the same 
cause as the zodiacal light, and that the 
latter interesting phenomenon perhajjs re- 
sults from a nebulous body revolving 
around the sun, interior to the orbit of the 
earth. 

It is a point worthy of contemplation, 
namely, the direful effects which such a 
" fiery shower " might, in the absence of 
that law of harmony which governs the 
universe, have unquestionably produced. 
Had the meteors been constituted of mate- 
rials a little more dense, their momentum 
would have enabled them to reach the 
earth ; and liad they held on their course 
three sesonds longer, it is impossible to 
conceive of the calamities which would 
have ensued by tjie descent to the earth of 
bodies of such magnitude, glowing with 
the most intense heat. Hulf the continent 
must have been involved in one common 
destruction ! 

One of the most interesting facts per- 
taining to this grand celestial phenomenon, 
is its periodical character. Between the 
years 903 and 1833, of the modern era, 
thirteen of these great showers are re- 
corded, separated from each other by inter- 
vals of thirty-three and sixty-six years. 
It is not a little remarkable, too, that the 
eporli of these periodic displays coincides 
with the annual November showers so 
fauiiliar in their occurrence to all, and 



that their poiirt of divergence in the heav- 
ens is the same. Indeed, the phenomenon 
of the long interval or period differs from 
that of the annual period only in its 
numerical character. 

The last of these magnificent stellar 
showers — second, perhaps, in grandeur of 
demonstration to that of November, 1833, 
which latter stands solitary in its unsur- 
passed extent and splendor, — occurred 
November fourteenth, 1867, beginning at 
about three o'clock in the morning. At 
half-past three, a meteor of a greenish blue 
color, and about the size of a star of the 
first magnitude, shot out from the direc- 
tion of the constellation Leo, lighting up 
the sky with a long train of crimson iire, 
and traveling in a north-westerly direction. 
It had scarcely' faded from the sight, when 
another and equally brilliant, though not 
quite so large, came speeding along in its 
track, and it was followed by fourteen of 
smaller magnitude, one by one, in quick 
succession. At this moment a heavy 
cloud drifted towards the north, and for 
some minutes the spectacle was partially 
lost to view. That the meteors were fall- 
ing rapidly, however, was plainly evident ; 
for, from all points where the mass of 
clouds was thin, occasional meteors flashed 
out, and the frequent lighting up of the 
clouds, as they passed over, left no doubt 
that the mj'sterious phenomenon was 
having full play in the regions beyond. 

At ten minutes before four o'clock, the 
northern sky again became clear; a thick 
and almost impenetrable cloud passed over 
the moon, partiallj' obscuring its light, 
and thus enabling the observers to view 
with greater distinctness the size and bril- 
liancj' of the meteors. 

The display was now a most magnifi- 
cent one indeed. The meteors shot out 
from Leo in all directions, and with 
remarkable swiftness traveled across the 
horizon. Sixtj-three were counted in one 
minute and ten seconds, of which three 
were of extraordinary size and beauty. 
One of these, of a greenish hue, and fol- 
lowed b}- a long train of the same color, 
traveled in the direction of Ursa Major, 



336 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



and as it was disappearing in the southern 
horizon, appiirently burst, lighting up the 
sky for a great distance on all sides. It 
soon became utterlj- impossible to keep any 
correct account of the number fulling. 
Eight, ten and twelve sped onwards, on 
their erratic course, at the same moment, 
scarcely disappearing before others of 
equal splendor took their places. For 
fully twenty minutes they continued to 
fall with the same rapidit}', during which 
time, there were counted, exclusive of those 
already mentioned, three hundred and 
thirteen. This number, however, was not 
one-fifth of that which really fell, as 
observed in New York city. Not less 
than fifteen hundred or two thousand were 
estimated by observers at that citj', to 
have nwliated from Leo, during this space 
of time, some of which were splendid in 
color and movement. 

One of the meteors constituting this 
displ:i\' is described as of surpassing 
beauty, size and brilliancy. It radiated 
from Leo, and took a direct northerly 
course toward Ursa M;ijor, followed by a 
long train of a j-ellowish red hue, which 
spanned the horizon from its point of 
appearance to that of its disai)pearanre. 
This meteor was of the same greenish blue 
color as the others which preceded it, 



and as it [lassed over about one-half of the 
course traversed, it seemed to burst, and 
then the spectacle was one of extreme 
beaut}'. Ai)parently, hundreds of frag- 
ments of an almost blood-red color broke 
from it and scattered in every direction, 
while it continued its course towards the 
north, no longer wearing its greenish-blue 
color, but of one uniform and beautiful 
blue. The panorama it presented was 
exceedingly grand, and livsted about three 
minutes, before the varied colors disaj>- 
peared and the lire-lit skies resumed their 
wonted serenity. After tlie appearance of 
this, the disjilay gradually died away. 

Although it is doubtful, from the want 
of the requisite data, whetlier the source 
of the meteors, or the height of the mete- 
oric cloud, has been accurate!}' ascertained, 
j-et the truth in regard to the latter may 
be approximated. According to the estab- 
lished laws of falling bodies, the velocity 
the meteors would acquire in falling from 
a point two thousand two hundred and 
thirty-eight miles above the earth to within 
fifty miles of its surface — this being con- 
sidered as nearlj' the height of the atmos- 
phere — is about four miles per second, 
which is more than ten times the maxi- 
mum velocity of a cannon-ball, and about 
nineteen times that of sound ! 



XXXVII. 

ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PKESIDENT JACKSON, 
AT THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL IN WASHING- 
TON, BY RICHARD LAWRENCE.— 1835. 



Failure of the Pistols to Discharge. — The President Rushes Furiously Upon His Assailant, and is 
Restrained from Executing Summary Vengeance only by His Friends. — Political Hostility Supposed, 
at First, to Have Instigated the Act. — Lawrence Proves to be a Lunatic, Without Accomplices. — His 
History and Trial. — Funeral of a Member of Congress. — Great Concourse at the Capitol. — President 
Jackson and Cabinet Present. — Lawrence Enters During the Sermon. — Moves to the Eastern Portico. 
— President Jackson Leaves with Secretary Woodbury. — Their Carriage at the Portico Steps. — 
Approach to Lawrence's Position — He Levels a Pistol at Jackson. — E.xplosion of the Percussion Cap. 
— A Second Pistol Snapped. — Jackson Raises His Cane Fiercely. — Lion-Like Energy of the Old Hero. 
— Is with Difficulty Kept Back. — Lawrence Stunned and Secured. — His Perfect Calmness Through 
All. — The Crowd Wish to Kill Him. — Fine Appearance of the Assassin. — Frank Avowal of His 
Motives. — Insane Idea Possessing Him. — Claims to be a King. — Is Confined iu a Madhouse. 



"Let me go. Eienttemen I 1 am not afraid— Ihey can't kill me— I can protect myaelf I " 

DPOK TUB ASSASSIH. 



-Jackson's Exclauation when BtrsniNO 



II 



IKE wildfire on the flowing prairie, did the annoiincemetit of the attempted 

assassination of President Andrew Jackson, on the 
thirtieth of January, 1835, spread over tlie country, 
to its furtliermost limits. Consternation filled the 
public mind, at the thought that the tragical mode 
of dealing with the crowned heads of kingdoms and 
empires, had at last been tried — though fortunately 
with abortive result — upon the person of the popu- 
larlj- elected ruler of a free republic ! 

On the afternoon of the day above-named, while 
President Jackson was in the capitol, in attendance 
on the funeral of the Hon. Warren E. Davis, of 
THE pRESERv.iTioN. South CaroHna, Richard Lawrence, a painter, 

residing in Wa.shington, attempted to shoot him. This individual was seen 
to enter the h.ill of the house of representatives during the delivery of the funeral 
sermon ; before its close, however, he h.ad t.aken his stand on the eastern 
portico, near one of the columns. The president, with the secretary of the 
treasury on his left arm, on retiring from the rotunda to reach his carriage at the 
steps of the portico, advanced towards the spot where Lawrence stood, — who had his 
pistol concealed under his coat, — and when he approached within two yards and 




338 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



a half of liiin, the assassin exteudud his 
arm and leveled the pistol at the presi- 
dent's hreast. The percussion cap ex- 
ploded with a noise so great, that several 
witnesses supposed the pistol had fired. 
On the instant, the assassin dropped the 
pistol from his right hand, and taking 
another ready cocked from his left, pre- 
sented and snapped it at the president, 
who at the moment raised his cane and 
made for the assailant with lion-like 
energy, and would have executed summary 
vengeance ; but Secretary Woodbury and 
Lieutenant Gedney at the same instant 
laid hold of the man, who gave way 
through the crowd and was at last knocked 
down, the president pressing after him 
until he saw he was secured. The presi- 
dent's friends then urged him to go to tlie 
capitol, which the brave-hearted man did, 
with great firmness and self-possession, 
though during the eventful moment the 
president's commanding voice was heard 
above all others, as, tearing himself from 
his friends and rushing upon the assassin, 
he said, "Let me yn, gentlemen, — I am not 
afraid — they can't kill me — / can protect 
myself! " As soon as the act was known 
to the crowd, they wished to kill the assas- 
sin on the spot. 

Lawrence was forthwitli carried to jail, 
after a brief preliminary examination 
before Judge Cranch. At this examina- 
tion, ilr. Kandolpli, sergeant of tlie house 
of representati^•es, who attended the mar- 
shal to conduct the prisoner to the city 
hall, gave in testimony tliat the prisoner, 
when asked by the marshal wliat motive 
he had to make liis horrid attempt, stated 
that the president had killed liis father. 
His father was an Englishman who died 
many j-ears ago in Washington. The son 
himself was apprenticed afterwards to a 
Mr. Clark, with whom he lived three years. 
Mr. Clark, when called upon, said that he 
was a young man of excellent habits, sober 
and industrious; that he had seen him 
very frequentl3', and was well acquainted 
with him since he had left his family, and 
had heard nothing to his disadvantage, 
until, of late, he was informed of his being 



quarrelsome among his friends, and had 
treated one of his sisters badly. 

The total absence of any personal motive 
on the part of the prisoner to commit the 
deed he attempted, suggested the idea that 
he nuist be insane. But his denu-anor 
when committing the act, and on being 
seized, as well as when ex.imined, bore not 
the slightest appearance of frenzy, or 
derangement of any sort. When asked 
by the court if he wished to cross-examine 
the witnesses, or to make explanation, lie 
answered in the negative — said that those 
who had seen the act could state the facts 
— and at the conclusion, when asked if he 
liad anything to offer, said that he could 
not contradict what had been given in 
evidence. In the midst of the excitement 
and anxiety which prevailed around him, 
Lawrence appeared perfectly calm and 
collected ; and the president, in speaking 
of the event, remarked that Lawrence's 
manner, from the moment his eye caught 
his, was firm and resolved, until the failure 
of liis last pistol, wheu he seemed to shrink, 
rather than resist. 

Lawrence was a handsome }"oung man 
of about thirty -five years, small in stature, 
pale complexion, black hair, dark eyes, 
genteel de|>ortnient, and welWressed. The 
keejier of the rotunda stated that he had 
frequently observed the man about the 
capitol, so frecpiently that he had endeav- 
ored to draw him into conversation, but 
found him taciturn and unwilling to talk. 
On the day in question, he kejit juowling 
about, but did not come within the railing 
near the members' seats; his hand was 
held inside his vest, as if grasjiiiig some- 
thing, and his lips were jiale and quiver- 
ing. On his pistols being talcen from him, 
after the affair, they were found to be a 
very elegant pair, in most excellent order, 
and loaded with powder and ball almost to 
the muzzle, the barrels being about six 
inches long. On examining the load in 
one of the pistols, a ball was drawn out by 
means of a screw, about sixty of which 
balls would have made a pound ; it was 
well jiacked, and forced down tight on a 
full charge of excellent glazed powder. It 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



339 



was a most astonishing circumstance, 
loaded as tliey were and with percussion 
caps, that the pistols missed fire. In view 
of this latter fact, Mr. Key, the district 
attorney, and General Hunter, the marshal 
of the district, lost no time in testing the 
actual condition of the weapons, the pistol 
still loaded being first tried, by putting on 
another cap. The tube of this pistol 
showed the powder at its summit. Gen- 
eral Huntex', by inclining the pistol, threw 
out a few grains of the powder in his 
hand. They took from a box of caps found 



each of the pistols, several times, without 
taking any other means of forcing the 
powder into the tubes than that of ram- 
ming home small paper wads on the 
charges. The discharge of the weapons 
took effect on every trial. So great was 
the excitement produced by the affair, 
that some of the most eminent political 
opponents of the president, including such 
men as Clay, Calhoun, Poindexter, White, 
and others, were, in the frenzy of the 
moment, suspected of having conspired in 
a plot to get rid of the president ! 




A.TTf;MlTEU ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 



in Lawrence's shop without selecting it, 
one, which was placed upon the tube. On 
Major Donelson firing it, the ball passed 
through an inch plank, at a distance of 
about five or six yards, and lodged, nearly 
buried, in the opposite side of the enclos- 
ure, six or seven yards distant. They 
then loaded with a small quantity of the 
powder found in the prisoner's possession, 



It was ascertained that, some time pre- 
vious, Lawrence had formed an attachment 
to a young ladj', and frequently told his 
sister that he would by his industry soon 
be enabled to buy a corner lot near her, 
and build on it a good house, when he 
would marry the object of his attachment ; 
and, with this view, he labored diligently, 
day and night, until he had by him about 



340 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



eip;ht hundred dollars. He was disap- 
pointed — became extremely pensive — (juit 
all employment — and would stand for 
hours in a little i)arlor, gazing upon the 
spot whicli he had selected as his future 
residence. Up to this time, he was quiet, 
kind and affectionate. 

His hrothor-in-law, with whom he lived, 
endeavored to persuade Lawrence to 
resume his work — he said that he would 
go to England, that he had something of 
groat importance which demanded his 
presence, and in the fall of 1833 went to 
New York for the purpose of taking pas- 
sage from that port. During the winter 
he returned, saying that he found the 
papers filled with notices of his contem- 
plated enterprise, and that he could get no 
captain to take him on board. In the 
spring of 1834, he again went as far as 
Philadelphia, put up at the Mansion House, 
kept his room, or else would stand for 
hours on the porch, engaged in deep 
thought, without speaking to any one. 
After a few days ho returned to Washing- 
ton, and said that he found his purpose of 
going to England was known, that none of 
the captains would consent to take him on 
hoard, hut that he would soon have a vessel 
of his own — that he had engaged men who 
would put all things right. About this 
time he became very quarrelsome, and his 
relatives were afraid to keep him in the 
house. His brother-in-law endeavored 
again to induce him to go to work, which 
ho olistinately refused to do, sa^'ing that 
his hands would do no more work — that 
others might work, but, as for him, he 
would soon have money enough. At 
length, he committed an assault upon his 
sister, for which he was handed over to the 
officers of justice, and lodged in jail. The 
case was carried before the grand jury, 
only a short time previous to the assault 
on the president, and, after an examina- 
tion of witnesses who knew him, the granil 
jury refused to find a bill against him, on 
the ground of his insanity. 

In a conversation between Lawrence 
and some visitors, held soon after the rash 
act, the following curious statements were 



made by the prisoner, in reply to the 
questions put to him : 

" What object had you in view in shoot- 
ing the president ? " 

" About ten days before making the 
attempt, I called on the president at his 
house, and stated to him that I was in 
want of money, and wished him to give a 
check for it. The president made no par- 
ticular objection to this demand, but stated 
that Mr. Dibble wished to see him, and 
that I must call again." 

" Do you suppose the president knew of 
3'our intention to kill him ? " 

"He must have known what my inten- 
tion was, if he did not comply with my 
wishes." 

"Whydidj-ou call upon the president 
with such a demand ? " 

" Because he knew, as I supposed every 
person did, the true situation of things. 
The president is my clerk, and I have 
control over his money and his bank, and 
the sword ; and if he refused to conipl}-, 
he knew the consequences." 

" By what means did you expect to 
enforce compliance with your wishes, and 
how much money did you ex])ect to get ? " 

'■The president knew I had the right to 
the money, and, if he refused, that I had 
the right to kill him. One or two thou- 
sand dollars would have satisfied me, but 
I would have accepted three or four hun- 
dred." 

"How came the president to know that 
you had the right ? " 

" Because there was an understanding, 
and it would have been taking the law in 
his own hands to refuse." 

" Did you expect any aid in j'our under- 
taking to kill the president?" 

" No, I needed none. I have the right 
to the crown of England. It has always 
been in my ancestors. They were deprived 
of it by force. My father was then re- 
duced to labor, and had to drive a coal cart 
in England. He was fond of hunting, 
riding, and shooting, and was frequently 
called on by noblemen and persons of dis- 
tinction, notwithstanding his reduced cir- 
cumstances." 



GREAT AND IVrEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



341 



" How came General Jackson to get the 
power over j'our rights and monej' ? " 

" The first cause was what took place 
at Orleans. He leagued in with Lord 
Wellington, and the consequence was, that 
out of twenty-five thousand English sol- 
diers sent over, onlj' a small remnant was 
left ; with the aid of cotton-bags fixed by 
Jackson, they were wasted away. A 
number of officers were drafted for this 
campaign, among them Pakenham and 
Gibbs, and they were killed. This is the 
unjust treatment my father received on 
that occasion, and it is mj"- business to put 
things right — I have the power — Jackson 
is my clerk — he knew what would be the 
consequence of refusing to obej'." 

" If you were now set at liberty, would 
you endeavor to go on with your determin- 
ation ? " 

" After a while, I should call on the 
president for the monej', and if he refused, 
I would pursue the same plan I did 
before." 

On the day appointed for the trial of 
Lawrence, he appeared in court dressed in 
a gray coat, black cravat and vest, and 
brown pantaloons. His conduct was that of 
a man perfectly at liis ease, and collected, 
though his eyes showed indications of 
mania, and there was an evident assumi> 
tion of kingl3' dignity in his demeanor 
and the expression of his countenance. 
He took his seat, however, very quietlj^ by 
the side of his counsel, and conversed 
smilingly with them. That his ajjpear- 
ance was decidedly handsome and prepos- 
sessing, was the opinion universally ex- 
pressed. 

The witnesses having been called into 
court, Mr. Key, the prosecuting attorney, 
commenced some observations to the 
bench, when — up jumped Lawrence from 
his chair, under evident excitement of 
mind, and said he wished to know whether 
it was correct to bring him or not ? He 
claimed the crown of Great Britain, he 
said, and also that of the United States ; 
and he wished to know if they could bring 
him there ? The judge desired him to 
take his seat, and to allow his counsel to 



manage his case for him. Lawrence com- 
plied, but still continued the subject, in 
conversation with his counsel. The latter 
now inquired of the court, whether, as this 
was simply the case of a misdemeanor, the 
presence of the prisoner, considering his 
state of mind, might not be dispensed with. 
Lawrence again rose, and addressed the 
court, saying, " I wish to know, if, having, 

as I have, the sword ." He was again 

stopped. His counsel once more, but still 
without success, appealed to the bench. 




KICHAKD LAWRENCE. 



to allow the prisoner to be removed, 
saying that he had done all he could to 
quiet the man's feelings, but had not been 
able to present any course of which he 
would make choice. The judge rejjlied, 
that it was always customary for the pris- 
oner to be in court, in cases like this ; he 
wished the trial to proceed in the ordinary 
way. On proceeding to call the jjanel, the 
following passage ensued : 

" I observe," said Lawrence, " that a 
jury has been called. I wish to know if 
this is correct. I certainly am king ! " 

" You must sit down," commanded the 
judge, "and be quiet, Mr. Lawrence, until 
called on to answer." 

Lawrence sat down ; but not until he 
Iiad reiterated the assertion that he was 
king of Great Britain, and likewise of 
America, and that he was jDrotected by the 
law in his claim. 

On the examination of witnesses. Sec- 
retary Woodbury testified as follows : On 
the occasion of the funeral ceremony which 
took place in the hall of the liouse of rep- 
resentatives, in consequence of the death 
of one of its members, I attended, together 



342 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



with the prosidpiit and other officers of the 
government ; had listened to the funeral 
service in the hall; left it; the president 
being on my ri<;ht arn), had jiassed through 
the rotunda, and through the eastern door, 
where we came rather to a halt — being in 
the rear, — in consequence of the delay 
occasioned by the gentlemen who had pre- 
ceded us getting into the coaches. We 
had perhaps passed some two or three steps 
on to the portico, when I heard a noise 
like tlio discharge of a pistol; "looked 
round directlv, and there saw a person, 
about six or eight feet, a little obliquely to 
the left, who was just in the act of lower- 
ing his hand when nij' eye caught him. 
It was the prisoner at the bar. Saw him 
distinctlj' when I turned, and saw the 
pistol in his hand ; presumed he was the 
person who fired. It was directed right 
towards the president. At first I doubted 
whether it was not myself who was aimed 
at, but saw that it was towards the presi- 
dent, who was on my right ; turned to the 
president to see if he was injured, and, 
seeing that he was not, I turned to look 
for the prisoner. Ho was tlien in the act 
of raising his hand again ; had something 
in it; jircsumcd it was a pistol. I gave a 
l)u]l from tlie president's aim and sprang 
towards tlie prisoner, seized him by the 
collar, and at that moment the second 
explosion took place. Other persons had 
previously got hold of him, which ])roceed- 
ing appeared to have rather ]>ut him out of 
liis first position ; they continued to pull 
him, with some violence, in a somewhat 
opjiosite direction. Seeing he was secured, 
and that there was reason to believe he 
had no other weapon, I let go m^' hold to 
learn what was the state of the president. 
The prisoner was dragged forwards towards 
the front of the piazza. I saw no more of 
him until I saw him here an hour after. 
Found the president in the crowd, and went 
home with him. 

Secretary Dickerson stated the circum- 
stances of the assault, as observed bv him, 
to be as follows : I went with other gentle- 
men of the cabinet, to the capitol, on the 
day of the funeral of the Hon. W. R. 



Paris. After the service in the hall, the 
procession moved forward towards the 
eastern colonnade, there being a great 
crowd. I was a little to the rear of the 
president, and at the door of the colonnade 
there was a halt, which brought me up 
nearly to his side. I had advanced, I 
think, about two steps from the door, when 
I heard the discharge of a pocket pistol ; 
have certainl)' heard s<ich pistols dis- 
charged without making a louder report — 
it being in the colonnade might have 
increased the sound. On turning my eye, 
I saw that some men had laid hold of an 
individual. I was to the left of the ])resi- 
dent, and saw Lieutenant (iedney, who 
seemed to be trying to get the man down, 
but I could not see the man. It was some 
seconds before the prisoner could get at 
his other pistol, and when he did, from his 
altered j)osition, he had to throw his arm 
over to get aim at the president. The 
latter must have been struck, had a dis- 
charge taken place. In an instant from 
this time, the prisoner was crushed to the 
floor, but was soon raised again. Mr. 
Gillct, a member of congress from New- 
York state, a very strong man, had hold 
of him, as also had Lieutenant Gedney. 
I looked at the prisoner, and kept my eye 
on .him, so as to be certain of his identity. 
About the instant the second explosion 
took place, the president had lifted his 
stick to strike the prisoner, but made no 
blow, being prevented by his friends. The 
crowd coming out at the door was very 
great. The president spoke angril3' to 
those who prevented him from getting 
at Lawrence, saying, " Let me alone ! 
Let me alone ! " I recollect hearing 
him al.so say, "he knew where this came 
from : " 

After some further evidence on the part 
of the prosecution, the prisoner's counsel 
asked permission of the judges that Law- 
rence might leave the court, saying that it 
was painful to them all to have him 
remain — particularly so to himself, as his 
counsel, — and the law did not require his 
presence. Lawrence now rose, and ad- 
dressed the judges wildly, saying — 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



34^ 



" What I have done to Jackson, was on 
account of money which he owes me. I 
went there for that purjiose. I consider 
all in tliis court as under me. Tlie United 
States bank lias owed me money ever since 
1802, and I want my money. I must 
liave my revenue from that bank. You 
are under me, gentlemen. (Mr. Wood- 
ward, tlie deputj'-marshal, endeavoring to 
prevail on him to resume his seat, Law- 
rence turned round, indignantly', and said, 
'Mr. Woodward/ mind i/our own business, 
or I shall treat you with severity !') It is 
for me, gentlemen, to pass upon you, and 
not j'ou ui5on me." 

Again did the counsel appeal to the 
feelings of the court to spare itself, and 
the jury, this painful exhibition, by per- 
mitting Lawrence to depart in custody of 
the marshal. He, the counsel, felt, for his 
own part, that he could not do justice to 
the cause of the prisoner, if he sat beside 
him ; the very fact, that he should take a 
course in the defense of the prisoner with 
which he was displeased, would prevent it. 
The court replied, that Lawrence should 
remain until proven to be insane; lie 
would, however, be permitted to withdraw, 
if it was his own wish so to do. The 
unfortunate maniac here shouted out — 

" I deny the power of the court to try 
me — I am my own man — I will have my 
revenue I " 

Lawrence's counsel here endeavored to 
soothe him, by telling him he should have 
his rights. "A}', but when?" "To- 
day," replied his counsel ; and he sat down, 
contentedly, on this assurance. 

It was, of course, not at all difficult for 
the prisoner's counsel to prove his insanity 
and consequent irresponsibleness. Mr. 
Eedfern, who married Lawrence's sister, 
testified on this point, to the following 
effect : I have known Lawrence for si.xteen 
years, and first observed a change in him 
in 1833. In the fall of 1832 he left Wash- 
ington with the intention, he said, of going 
to England; he went in November, and 
returned again in December, assigning as 
a reason, that the weather was cold. In 
the spring of the next year, he started 



again to go to New York or Philadelj)hia, 
but he certainlj' got no farther than Phila- 
delphia ; on his return this time, he said the 
people would not let him go, that the gov- 
ernment opposed his going, that I and 
others had prevented him ; that he should 
not be able to go until he got a ship and 
captain of his own, — that, when he got to 
Philadelphia, he found all the papers so 
full about him, that he was obliged to 
come back. After this, he remained in 
my house six months, but did nothing, 
saj'iug he had no occasion to labor, that he 
lived on his jieople, — it was very well for 
men such as me to work, but he had no 
such need, that he had large claims on this 
government which were now before con- 
gress. He used to attend congress regu- 
larly. In January, 1834, he left my 
house, but, previous to this, had got quar- 
relsome with his sister, said the colored 
girl laughed at him and that he would kill 
her, and that other people also laughed at 
him. He struck all his sisters on several 
occasions, and once took up a four-pound 
weight to throw at my wife. I have seen 
him pass since this time, but never have 
spoken to him since 1833 ; he would go 
about the house, without speaking, for 
days together, but would talk and laugh 
to himself continuallj' in his own chamber. 
It was the general impression of the neigh- 
bors, that Lawrence was insane from the 
beginning of 1833. 

The question being put to Mr. Eedfern, 
as to wliether Lawrence held two estates 
in Ireland, the answer was in the nega- 
tive. On asking Lawrence the names of 
his estates, he replied, very gravely, " Tre- 
gear and Kinnany ! and they are attached 
to the crown of England ! " 

Similar in its bearing, was the testi- 
mony of Mr. Drury, who had known Law- 
rence twenty-five years, and who stated 
the following facts : For the last year I 
have observed a change in his conduct ; he 
would talk to himself continually in his 

shop, sometimes saying, ' him, he 

does not know his enemj' ; I will put a 
pistol — erect a gallows.' He conceived 
himself to be King Eichard the Third, of 



344 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



England, and likewise king of this coun- 
try, tliis was about the latttT end of last 
December, or the beginning of January-, 
after which, I heard him say, ' Gen- 
eral Jackson ! who's General Jackson ? ' 
On one occasion a black boy called to col- 
lect a bill, and Lawrence said he would 
call and pay it; but, as soon as the boy 

had left, he said, ' him ! he don't 

know who he's dunning!' He would 
stand at the door for hours, wrapt in 
thought, and, even when I passed, he took 
no notice of me. Ho was continually 
talking to himself, and would now and then 
burst into fits of laughter. I noticed no 
particular change in him as to dress — he 
was always fond of dress, — but I did in his 
conduct and appearance. I have often 
said he was a crazy man, and have heard 
others say so; the boys would call liim 
' King Richard.' On the morning of his 
attack on the president, he came to the 
shop at the usual time, and went to a place 
where I could see him through a partition ; 
he was sitting on a chest, witli a book in 
his hand, laughing. I heard soon after 
the lid of the chest fall, and heard him 

say, ' I'll be if I don't do it J ' He 

then came out, left the shop, and locked 
the door. Lawrence did some little work 
within the last twelve months, and had a 
shop. I had a room adjoining this. 

Much testimony of the same purport as 
the preceding was brought forward, and 
nothing of a conflicting character pre- 
sented itself. The law, in criminal cases, 



sa3's that the existence of reason is neces- 
sary to constitute punisliable crime — its 
deprivation renders the individual dispun- 
ishable. Acting upon this ground, several 
physicians were examined as to tlieir opin- 
ion of Lawrence's condition, judging from 
the facts drawn out by the evidence, and 
their personal interviews with the prisoner. 
Their testimony was unanimous in de- 
claring Lawrence's state of mind to he 
that of morbid delusion, — not possessing a 
judgment of right and wrong, especially as 
to anything connected with General Jack- 
son, — and therefore not to be treated as a 
moral agent. Among the physicians who 
expressed this as their decided ojiiiiion, 
were Messrs. Coussin and Thomas .S<'well, 
two of the most eminent in tlieir profes- 
sion. 

In accordance with the evidence thus 
given, the jury were out only five minutes, 
returning at once with a verdict of "Not 
guilty, he liaving been under the influence 
of insanity* at the time of committing the 
act." But, long before the trial and its 
termination, the intense excitement pro- 
duced by the iict, throughout the country, 
had almost entirely subsided, — the first 
impression, that the liorrid deed had been 
prompted by secret political conspiracy, 
under partisan instigation, rapidly dying 
awaj', as the true character of the man and 
his unaided deed became known. Law- 
rence was sent to a lunatic a.sylum. where 
he remained an inmate thirty or forty 
years. 



XXXVIII. 
MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH, 1835. 



Realization of the Higliest Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle. — Principle, Structure, and Operation of the 
Machine. — Net-work of Lines Establislied Over the Four Continents. — The Inventor's Experiments, 
Labors, Discouragements, and Triumphs — " Orders of Glory," Gifts, and other Honors, Bestowed 
Upon Him by Crowned Heads. — Casual Origin of tlie Invention — Mr. M.'s European Voyage in 1832. 
— Recent French Experiments then Discussed. — Important Question and Answer. — Two Great Ex- 
isting Facts — The Electric Spark Transmissive. — Easy Control of the Current — Theory Applied to 
Practice. — Completion of a Crude Model — Private Exhibition in 1835. — Simplicity of tlie Instru- 
ment. — The Invention Made Public in 1837. — Wonder and Incredulity. — Appeal to Congress for 
Pecuniary Aid. — Merciless Ridicule Ensues — Scene in the Committee-Room. — A Machine at the 
Capitol — Perfect in its Operation. — Success of Morse's Appeal. — His Joy at the Decision. — Putting 
up the Wires to Baltimore. — First Message Thi-ough. 



"Thateteed called 'Lifhtning' (say the Ffttea) 
Is owned in tlie I nited Stiitcs: 
' I'waa Franklin's hand that caupht the horse; 
*TwaB harnessed by Professor AUr-e." 




HAKOISG TUE TELEOR.VPn WIRE, 



I^GS and courts, presidents and cabinets, have 
united in doing honor to that illustrious American 
citizen, who, more than any other man of his race, 
has realized to the human mind its highest ideal, or 
conception, of a meclianical miracle, through human 
agency. It is not claimed that, previous to Profes- 
sor Morse's achievement, the possibility of applying 
electricity to telegraphic communication had not oc- 
cupied other minds, but that to him belongs the 
high merit of having effected, after jears of patient 
- .543 ,vj . is^' study and ingenious experiment, 
^ggzj!^^^^- a practical application of the great 

^ J^^^P^^ scientific principle involved. 

^ "^^: In the year 1829, Mr. Morse, 
who was then an artist of much 
celebrity, having, more than fifteen 
years previously, exhibited before 
- the Royal Academy of England his 
s picture of " The Dj'ing Hercules," 
- \^:^?l of colossal size, made a second pro- 
fessional visit to Europe, where lie 
remained three years ; and it was 
this visit which proved, through a 
casual circumstance, of so much 
importance to himself, to science 
and the world, — for it was on his 
return in 1832, on board the ship 
% Sully, that he made that great dis- 
covery, to which is due the present 
V-'" ' system of telegraphing. A gentle- 



346 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



man on board liail l)ecn describing .some 
experiments made in Paris witli the 
electro-magnet, and the question arose as 
to the time occupied by the fluid in pass- 
ing through the wire, .stated to be one hun- 
dred feet in lengtli. On the reply that it 
was instantaneous, Professor Morse (recol- 
lecting the experiments of Franklin,) 
suggested that it might be carried to any 
distance instantlj-, and that the electric 
spark could be made a means of conveying 
and recording intelligence. Here was the 
idea, but a greater triunipli was the appli- 
cation of the theory to practice, which he 
successfully accomplished, after much 
study and multitudinous trials, in New 
York, v-'here, in 1835, he put in operation 
the model of his recording electric tele- 
graph. 

Professor Morse's discovery was based 
on these two princi])al facts, namely: that 
a current of electricity will pass to anj- dis- 
tance along a conductor connecting the two 
poles of a voltaic battery, and produce 
visible effects at an^- desired points on that 
conductor ; also, that magnetism is pro- 
duced in a piece of soft iron, around which 
the conductor, in its progress, is made to 
pass, when the electric current is permit- 
ted to flow, and tliat the magnetism ceases 
when the current of electricity is prevented 
from flowing. Hence, if the end of a soft 
iron lever be placed beneath the iron to 
be magnetized, it can be made to rise and 
fall as the electricitj' flows, or is inter- 
rupted. Tiie other end of the lever, having 
a point in it, may be made to press on a 
strip of papi-r or not, at the will of the 
operator. This point may be made to im- 
press a dot or a line, at pleasure. A dot 
and a line may represent letters, and by 
different coniliinations of dots and linos 
any letter of the aljihabet could be repre- 
sented. The operator in one city could 
make the apparatus in another cit}', at any 
distance, write what he j)leased, by break- 
ing and closing the circuit at longer or 
shorter intervals. 

The invention, as thus devised bj' Pro- 
fessor ISforse, and as described in a popular 
way by Antisell, Rakewcll and others, 



is a recording instrument, that embosses 
the symbols upon jjaper, with a point 
pressed down upon it by an electro-magnet ; 
the symbols that form the aljdiabet con- 
sisting of combinations of short and long 
strokes, and made to stand for different 
letters, by their repetitions and variations. 
Thus a stroke followed by a dot signifies 
the first letter of the alphabet ; a stroke 
preceded by a dot, the second letter ; a 
single dot, the third letter; and in this 
manner the whole alphabet could easily be 
indicated, the number of repetitions in no 
case exceeding four for each letter, — the 
letters and words lieing distinguished from 
one another by a longer space being left 
between them than between each mark 
that forms only a part of a letter or of a 
word. 

Simplicity characterized this instrument 
in an eminent degree. The transmitter is 
merely a spring key, like that of a musical 
instrument, which, on being pressed down, 
makes contact with the voltaic battery, 
and sends an electric current to the receiv- 
ing station. The operator at the trans- 
mitting station, by tlius making contact, 
brings into action an electro-magnet at the 
station he communicates with, and that ])ulls 
down a point fixed to the soft-iron lever 
upon a strip of paper tliat is kept mov- 
ing by clock-work slowly under it. The 
duration of the pressure on the key, 
wlietlier instantaneous or prolonged fur a 
moment, occasions the difference in the 
lengths of the lines indented on the paper. 
A single circuit is sufficient for the pur- 
jjose, as well as \ery effective. 

As the working of this telegraph depends 
upon bringing into action at the receiving 
station an electro-magnet of force equal to 
mechanically indenting paper, and as the 
resistance to the j)assage of eleetrii-ity 
along the wires diminishes the quantity 
transmitted so greatly, that at long dis- 
tances it was supposed to be almost 
impossible to obtain sufficient power for 
the purpose, if it acted directly, — to over- 
come this difficulty, an auxiliary electro- 
magnet was employed. The electro- 
magnet which is directly in connection 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



34^ 



with the telegraph wire is a small one, 
surrounded by about live hundred yards 
or more of very fine wire, for the purjjose 
of multiplying as much as possible the 
effect of the feeble current that is trans- 
mitted. The soft-iron keeper, which is 
attracted by the magnet, is also very light, 
so that it may be the more readily attracted. 
This highly' sensitive instrument serves to 
make and break contact with a local bat- 
tery, which brings into action a large 
electro-magnet, and as the local battery 
and tlie magnet are close to the place 
where the work is to be done, any required 
force may be easily- obtained. 

The batteries used are Grove's zinc and 
platinum, and two liquids ; any number of 
these mav be used. To form the electric 




THE ORIGIXAL IXSTItl'MEXT. 

circuit, one end of a copper wire is attached 
to the end platina plate, and the other 
end of the copper wire to the zinc cylinder. 
A wire is not required to run round all 
the circuit — any metallic connection, such 
as brass plates, etc., may form part of it. 
In the practical working of the telegraph, 
— the battery with the ke_y attached, and 
a small table, being supposed, for example, 
to be at the Philadelphia station, and the 
telegraph register to be at New York, — 
a wire runs from the platina plate up to 
the metallic binding screw connection on 



the small table, and the other wire runs 
from the zinc, and is connected by the first 
wire by the metallic connection of the 
register at New York. This forms the 
circuit. The ke3^ is fixed upon a pivot 
axis, to be gently pressed by the operator's 
fingers on the top of an ivory button. 
The circuit is now broken, and a small gap 
in the key above the wire from the battery 
shows the metallic connection to be open. 
By pressing upon the butt end of the kej', 
its metal surface comes in contact with the 
metal termination of the wire from the 
battery, and then the circuit is closed, and 
the electric fluid fleets along to the distant 
station. 

In connection with the register, there 
is, as has already been stated, a strip or 
ribbon of paper passing from the roll 
between two small metal rollers of the 
register. This strip is drawn through 
between the rollo-rs by their motion, they 
revolving towards the paper roll, drawing 
in the paper, — motion being given to these 
rollers by a train of clock-work gear wheels, 
moved by the weight below the machine. 
The upper small roll has a small groove run- 
ning around its periphery, and the ribbon 
of paper is drawn through against its 
under surface. The instrument for in- 
denting the paper is suspended on a 
pivot axis at its middle, and its action is 
like a walking-beam, though the stroke 
made is very short. This pen-lever is 
very nicely poised, and at its extreme end 
from the paper its stroke is neatly regu- 
lated bj' a set or button screw. The metal 
pen is attached to the lever and fixed on a 
pivot like a walking-beam. When one 
end is drawn down, the other end flies up, 
and, having a steel point on it, it marks 
the strip of paper, already described as 
running along a roller, and which is drawn 
along between other two rollers. Then, 
by letting the other end of this pen 
come up, the steel point drops, and 
then it is thrown up again, leaving a space 
between the two marks on the paper. As, 
therefore, the paper is always moving and, 
as the point is held to it for a longer or 
shorter time, marks are made — as before 



348 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



explained — of dots, spaces and dashes, and 
by a combination of these the whole 
alphabet is formed, the letters made into 
words, and the words into sentences. The 
electro-magnet is fitted with an armature, 
whose attraction and withdrawal gives 
motion to the lever. Instead of reading 
off from the strip of paper, operators in 
t.ime trusted to sound. 

But, tliough I'roft'ssor Morse exhibited 
the model of his recording apparatus in 
1835 and 1836, it was not until after some 
j'cars' additional tuil that he lironght it to 
the above-described efiicicncy and its sub- 
sequent improvement and perfection. He 
made no efforts to bring the matter 
definitely before the public until the 
autumn of 1837, when, in its advanced 
state of completion, he exhibited to an 
appreciating and wonder-struck auditory, 
its marvelous operation. The announce- 
ment of the invention and its astonishing 
capacity, was for a long time the most 
prominent theme of public and private 
discussion, admiration being largely min- 
gled with blank incredulity, and not a little 
ridicule. Even in congress, on the appli- 
cation of Professor ]\Iorse for government 
aid, to enable him to demonstrate the value 
of his invention by constructing a line 
between Washington and Baltimore, in 
1838, there were not found wanting learned 
legislators who treated the idea as a mere 
chimera. It was the same congress of 
which Espy, the " Storm King," was 
asking assistance, to test his favorite 
theory, then so prominently discussed. 

Both Morse and Espj', says a writer of 
that time and the event, became the butt 
of ridicule, the target of merciless 
arrows of wit. They were voted down- 
right bores, and the idea of giving them 
money was pronounced farcical. They 
were considered monomaniacs, and as such 
were laughed at, punned upon, and made 
the standing staple for jokes. One morn- 
ing, however, a gentleman rose from his 
seat in the house — quite to the astonish- 
ment of everybody, for he had never been 
known to speak before, unless it was to 
vote or to address the speaker, — and said. 



"I hold in my hand a resolution, which I 
respectfully offer for the consideration of 
the house." In a moment a page was at 
his desk, and the resolution w^as trans- 
ferred to the speaker and by him delivered 
to the clerk, who read as follows : 
" Resolved, That the committee of ways 
and means be instructed to inquire into 
the expediencj' of appropriating §30,000, 
to enable Professor Morse to establish a 
line of telegraph between Washington and 
Baltimore." The gentleman who offered 
it was Mr. Ferris, one of the New York 
representatives, a man of wealth and 
learning, but modest, retiring, and diffi- 
dent. 

This being merely a resolution of 
inquiry, it passed without opposition, and, 
out of regard to the mover, without com- 
ment. In time, it came before the com- 
mittee, all the members of which had, by 
their public services and brilliant talents, 
acquired a national reputation. The clerk 
of the committee read the resolution. 
The chairman, Mr. Fillmore, in a clear, 
distinct voice, said, " Gentlemen, what 
disposition shall be made of it?" There 
was a dead pause around the table. No 
one seemed inclined to take the initiative. 
It was expected that, inasmuch as the 
mover of the resolution in the house was a 
democrat, the democratic side of the com- 
mittee would stand god-father to it there. 
But not a bit of it. They felt that the 
whole thing was preposterous and deserv- 
ing of no countenance. At length, one on 
the other side broke the ominous silence 
by moving that the committee instruct 
the chairman to report a bill to the house, 
appropriating thirty thousand dollars for 
the purpose named in the resolution. 

Tliis movement "brought them all up 
standing!" No speeches were made. 
The question was called for. The yeas 
and nays were taken alphabetically, and, 
as four had voted on the affirmative side, 
and four on the negative, it fell to the lot 
of Governor Wallace, of Indiana, whose 
name came last on the list, to decide the 
question. He, however, had paid no atten- 
tion to the matter, and, like the majority of 



GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



349 



people, considered it a great humbug. He 
had not tlie faintest idea of the importance 
to his country, of the vote he was to cast. 
But as fortune would have it, the thought 
came to mind that Mr. Morse was even 
then experimenting in the capitol with the 
" new-fangled invention," having stretched 
a wire from the basement story to the 
ante-room of the senate chamber. It was 
therefore in Governor Wallace's power to 
satisfy himself at once in regard to the 
question of feasibility, and he determined 
to try it. He asked leave to consider his 
vote. This was granted. He imme- 
diately stepped out of the committee room, 
and went to the ante-chamber, which was 
found crowded with representatives and 
strangers. Governor Wallace requested 
permission to put a question to the '' mad- 
man " (Morse) at the other end of the 
wire. It was granted immediately. He 




C _ 

wrote the question and handed it to the 
telegrapher. The crowd cried '^ read ! 
read! " In a very short time the answer 
was received. When written out by the 
operator, the same cry of " read it ! read 
it ! " went up from the crowd. 

To his utter astonishment, Governor 
Wallace found that the madman at that end 



of the wire had more wit and force than the 
congressmen at the other — the laugh was 
turned completely upon the committee-man. 
But, as western men are rarely satisfied 
with one fall — not less than two failures 
out of three attempts forcing from them 
any acknowledgment of defeat, — the 
governor put a second question, and there 
came a second answer. If the first raised 
a laugh at his expense, the second convert- 
ed that laugh into a roar and a shout. 
He was more than satisfied. Picking up 
his hat, he bowed himself out of the 
crowd, the good-natured shout following 
him as he passed along the passages and 
halls of the capitol. 

As a matter of course, Governor Wallace 
voted in the affirmative of the motion then 
pending before the committee, and it 
prevailed. The chairman reported the 
bill, the house and senate concurred in its 
passage, and thus was Professor Morse 
successful in this his last struggle to 
demonstrate the practicability of — as 
it has proved — the most amazing in- 
vention of the age, the electro-mag- 
netic telegraph. If the committee had 
ignored the proposition, there is no 
telling what would have been the result. 
That the experiment would have been 
finally made, no one can entertain a 
doubt. But when or by whom is the 
question. It was not within the range 
of ordinary individual fortune to make 
it, and, if it was, none but Professor 
Morse would have hazarded it. 

It appears, however, that Professor 
Morse came to the last stage of discour- 
agement, in the prosecution of his appeal 
to congress, before light finally broke 
in upon him. On the very last day of 
the session, the bill relating to his 
case was the one hundred and twenti- 
eth on the senate docket, to be acted upon 
in course. Concerning this scene, a 
writer in Harper's Monthly states, that 
during the entire day Professor Morse 
watched the course of legislation from the 
gallery with nervous trepidation and the 
deepest anxiety. At length, worn out 
by the interminable discussion of some 



350 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



senator who seemed to be speaking 
against time, and overcome by bis 
prolonged watching, he left the gallery at 
a late hour and went to his lodgings, 
under the belief that it was not possible 
his bill could be reached, and that he must 
again turn his attention to those labors of 
the brusli and easel by means of which he 
might be enabled to prosecute appeals to 
congress at a future time. He accordingly 
made his preparations to return to New 
York on the following morning, and 
retiring to rest, sank into a profound 
slumber, from which he did not awake 
until a late hour on the following morn- 
ing. But a sliort time after, while seated 
at the breakfast-table, the servant an- 
nounced that a lady desired to see him. 
Upon entering the j)ark)r, ho found Jliss 
Annie Ellsworth, the daughter of the 
Commissioner of Patents, whose face was 
all aglow with pleasure. 

'' / have come to conrjratulate you," she 
remarked, as he entered the room, and 
ajiproached to shake hands with her. 

"To congratulate me!" rejilicd Mr. 
Morse, " and for what ? " 

" Wkij, upon the passage of your hill, 
to he Kit re," she re[)li('d. 

"You must surely be mistaken; fori 
left at a late hour, and its fate seemed 
inevitable."' 

"Indeed I am not mistaken," she re- 
joined; "father remained until the liusc 
of the session, and your bill was the very 
last that was acted on, and I begged 
permission to convey to you the news. 
I am so happy that I am the first to tell 
you." 

The feelings of Professor Morse may be 
better imagined than described. He 
grasped his young companion warmly by 
the hand, and thanked her over and over 
again for the joyful intelligence, saying — 

" As a reward for being the first bearer 
of this news, you shall send over the tele- 
graph the first message it conveys." 

"I will hold you to that promise," 
replied she; " Rcmemher ! " 

" liememher .' " responded Professor 
Morse ; and they parted. 



The plans of Mr. Morse were now alto- 
gether changed. His journey homeward 
was abandoned, and he set to work to carry 
out the i)roject of establishing the line of 
electro-telegraph, between Washington and 
Baltimore, authorized by the bill. His 
first idea was to convey' the wires, inclosed 
in a leaden tube, beneath the ground. He 
had already arranged a pliin by which the 
wires, insulated by a covering of cotton 
saturated in gum shellac, were to be 
inserted into leaden jiijies in the process 
of casting. But after the expenditure of 
several thousand dollars, and much delaj' 
this plan was given iip, and the one now 
in use, of extending them on poles, 
adopted. 

By the month of !May, 1844, the whole 
line was laid, and magnets and recording 
instruments were attached to the ends of 
the wires at Mount Clare Depot, Balti- 
more, and at the sui)reme court chamber, 
in the capitol at Washington. ^\'lK•^ the 
circuit was complete, and the signal at the 
one end of the line was responded to by 
the operator at the otlicr, ]\Ir. Morse sent 
a messenger to Miss Ellsworth to inform 
her that the telegraph awaited her mes- 
sage. She speedily responded to this, and 
sent for transmission the following, which 
was the first formal dispatch ever sent 
through a telegraphic wire connecting 
remote places with each other : 

" What hath God wkought ! " ' 

The original of the message is now in 
the archives of the Historical Society at 
Hartford, Connecticut. The practicability 
and utility of the invention were now 
clearly and firmly estabIi^lu•d. 

Of the subsequent history and triumphs 
of this invention, it is scarcely necessary 
here to speak. The lines of telegra]ihic 
communication which now, like a web, 
traverse the length and breadth of the 
republic, and whicdi, indeed, connect and 
cover as with a net-work the four conti- 
nents of the globe, — these attest the vast- 
ness, influence and power, of this amazing 
invention. Nor is it necessary to specify 
the details of those various mechanical 
improvements in the construction and 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



351 



working of the apparatus, as also its diver- 
sified adaptation, brought forward by the 
fertile genius of Morse, as well as by 
House, Hughes, Phelps, Shaffner, O'Reilly, 
Vail, Farmer, Page, Hicks, Ritchie, etc., 
and which have secured to the whole system 
of telegraphy its present wonderful degree 
of scientific perfection, bringing to the 
discoverer fame and pecuniary fortune at 
home, and also the most splendid medals, 
decorations of honor, and " golden gifts," 
from nearly all the crowned heads of 
Europe. It is an interesting fact, that the 
first kingly acknowledgment received by 
Professor Morse, was the " Order of 
Glory" from the Sultan of Turkey. The 
rulers of Prussia, Wurtemberg, and Aus- 
tria, sent him superb gold medals ; the 
emperor of the French made him a Cheva- 
lier of the Legion of Honor, instituted by 
Napoleon the First; while Denmark made 
him one of the knightly "Dannebrog," 
and Spain a Knight Commander of the 
Order of Isabella the Catholic. 



powerful an enemy Abd-el-Kader proved 
himself to the French, during the career 
of conquest undertaken by the latter in 
Algeria. On a certain occasion, during 
that terrific struggle, the French telegraph 
made the announcement: ^'Abd-el-Kader 

has hec.n taken ;" a fog, however, 

en\eloped the remainder of the sentence 
in obscurity. The excitement, neverthe- 
less, in the money market, was at fever 
height, at the supposed capture of that 
adroit enemj', and the funds rose tremen- 
dously'. The following day, the sentence 
being completed, the intelligence ran thus: 
" Abd-el-Kader has been taken tvith a 
dreadful cold in his head." The funds 
fell, but the coujj — which was worthy of a 
Rothschild's subtlety — had been suffi- 
ciently successful for those who managed 
to make the telegraph play into the hands 
of their financial agents. 

A case of a somewhat different character 
— one involving the " tender passion " — 
was the following. A daughter of one of 




ORDERS OF GLOBV CONFERRED ON PROFESSOR MORSE. 



An example or two of the humorous 
side of the telegraph may here be given, 
as a kind of side-relief to a subject 
liable to be regarded as somewhat exclu- 
sively involving abstract philosophical 
science and the technical minutiae of its 
application. 

Probably no one is ignorant of how 



the wealthiest merchants in Boston, Mass., 
had formed an attachment for a handsome 
j'oung man, who was a clerk in her father's 
counting-house. The father having heard 
of the attachment, feigned ignorance of it, 
with a view of enabling him more success- 
fully to adopt measures that would break 
it off. For this purpose he directed the 



352 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



young man to proceed to England, upon 
business ; and the lover accordingly ar- 
rived, on his route, in New York. In the 
meantime, the enamored young lady had 
got an inkling of her father's intentions, 
and wishing to frustrate them rfffrtuaUij, 
sent a message to that effect to her lover 
in New York, by the following expedient: 
She took her place in the telegraph office 
in Boston, and he did tlie same with a 
magistrate, in the New York office ; and 
now, the exchange of consent being duly 
given by the electric flash, thcij were mar- 
ried hij telegraph ! Shortly after, the 
lady's father insisted upon her marriage 
with tlie gentleman he had selected for 
her; and judge of his amazement when 
she told him that she was already married 
— the wife of Mr. B., then on his way to 
England; adding an explanation of the 
novel way in which the ceremony was per- 
formed. And so the matter ended ; adding 
another to the triumplis of love and — 
electricity ! 

During the revolutionary excitement in 
Europe, in 1848, the astounding report 
flashed across Europe, that the king of 
Prussia had abdicated ! The statement 
originated with the electric telegraph, 
which sent the following dispatch: "The 
— King of — Prussia — has — gone to Pot — ." 
In another minute, the communication in 
this form was on its way to the news- 
paper bulletins, and was immediately tele- 
graphed thence in every direction. Not 
long after, however, the dial was again 
agitat(Ml, and then "s — dam" was added; 
making the very quiet piece of news, 



" The King of Prussia has gone to Pots- 
dam." 

In the early da^'s of telegraphing, the 
competition for priority among the lead- 
ing journals was very great, and feats were 
performed which, for that day of the art's 
infancy, were indeed marvelous. One 
instance will suffice : 

An important speech by Mr. Clay was 
much looked for. It was delivered in 
Lexington, Ky., on a Saturday, and the 
proprietor of the New York Herald deter- 
mined on beating his contemporaries. 
Express riders were read^', and in less 
than five hours a full report of the speech 
was in Cincinnati. Notifications liad been 
sent along the line of telegraph to "look 
out ; " and at four o'clock on Sunday 
morning, the publisher of the Herald had 
the speech before him in New York — the 
distance being more than eleven liundred 
miles. This was done during a heavy rain, 
and wliile a thunder shower was passing 
over a portion of both the eastern and 
western lines. At Cincinnati, where it 
was to be copied in ])assing, the telegraj)h 
suddenly ceased working, to the dismay of 
the superintendent. Being short of proper 
hands, he mounted a horse, and followed 
the line, through the pelting storm, until 
he found a break, caused by the falling of 
a tree, beyond Turtle Creek, a distance of 
twenty-one miles. He finished mending 
the break at dark, and then returned to 1 , 
the city, where, in the temporary absence 1 
of other competent operators, received the 
speech and sent it to New York, finishing 
it at four o'clock in the morning. 



XXXIX. 

TREMENDOUS FIRE IN NEW YORK CITY.-1835. 



in A.eriea.-NeaH, Seven Hundr^a wL!Zs 'fS'S C^u/^^^^^ 
merce of Every Clime Laid in A«l.fl= r^o tt ''""" '^"" ^"^"^ Merchandise, and the Com- 
Fire.-The Money cTnleror aI^Z tl^^^^^ "Eighteen Millions.-Pecuhar Seat of this 
The Flames Spread v"o7en«v bZ". TV^ n ,T I Evening-Fury of the North Wind - 
Elements Hos.'lle.-H^rntletr ^ote C-A'cr'^^^^^^ Engi„e.Water.-An the 

to Point.-Mingled Horror and Sublimity -Sorts t Save t^F ^"'''''r^"''^^ ''""" P"'"' 
Pile.-Fall of its Magnificent DomP Nnn kit, Exchange.-Fate of that Splendid 



^SS>:St^ S^^^rj^^'^LXofi-} ImeSL/:^?°ter'S.nV°^''/; ^Zr ''" '«>^' -° ^^ =»"' "> -«> «>«- «f fe ni.ht „f December 16, 




ODERN history affords but few instances of more awful desolation by 
are, than that which so suddenly visited the city of New York on the 
sixteenth and seventeenth of December, 1835. ' Indeed, there are not 
many examples of any calamities affecting property and business 
^nr. A- . ■ "'^Z ' «^'o^^'"g greater destruction or involving conseouences 
Tfirs't Zllel \rr""^ °' "^^'^^^^^'^" '^""'^'-^ -^pacious^toreh^ses 

veri ! abo t ^ ""' '"'''''''''' ^""^^ '' '^^ '^"''"'^^ -^^ f'°- -" -""tries, 

seZilh^usald ' "'"" *^' "^°'' '^'^^ ^"'^'^"^ employment in various connection 
d s ste" It waT fT"' ""' ''' unprecedented event, in the roll of national 
disasters. It was not, however, upon the individuals directlv employed, nor upon the 

and orphans who were dependent upon the dividends of their little stock in the insri^ 

at on "Z:"". r .f '■ 'f' '-'''' '"'' ''''■' --^ •^'^-^^^ ''y *^- -pitying d- 
uTed S e f ' '"^"'"^ '"' manufacturer, in almost every district of the 

United States, however remote, was irretrievably involved. Indeed, e^ery species of 

the shoct '7;"":'"^ V,'"' '"" ^^° '^^"-^'"""-^ ^^^^g^'^' -'^ ^'^'^ -^o'^ --^tion felt 
San Fitci ^ "' i"" ^''"' "°^* '^'^^^''•^"^ '" '""''^ extent,-at Savannah, 

-but^hT "' ^'^"7"^''' P'««^-g' P-tland, Albany, St. Louis, Charleston, etc. 

the celt .ir 'T'':, . ' '•'™' "P '° '''''^* *™^' '''' --* f-'-f^l'y memorable, of 
centurj, ^nd, therefore, appropriately narrated in this volume. For terrible 



354 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



destruction of life, also, numbering some 
seventy victims, including Hon. George 
W. Smith, governor of the state, the 
burning of the theater in Richmond, Va., 
December 24, 1811, will forever be remem- 
bered. 

At nine o'clock, on the night of Wednes- 
day, December sixteenth, smoke and flames 
were seen to issue from a tive-story build- 
ing in Merchant street, formerly Hanover 
street, in the vicinity of the Merchants' 
Exchange, and in precisely that locality 
of the metropolis which was crowded with 
the most costly treasures of foreign and 
domestic production. The weather had 
been unusually severe for several days ; 
but on the night in question, the cold had 
increased to an intensity almost without 
precedent, the thermometer standing be- 
low zero, with fierce north winds, amount- 
ing nearly to a gale. It was an awful 
night for New York and the country. 

The flames soon leajjed forth in fury 
through every aperture, and seized on 
the adjoining buildings for their im- 
mediate prey, and, spreading from this 
point, the raging element in a short time 
obtained a tremendous advantage in the 
most compactly and loftily built portion 
of the city, filled with silks, cloths, liquors, 
oils, chemicals, and other combustibles, 
and intersected only by narrow streets 
which could interpose no barrier to the 
progress of the flames. 

Owing to the unparalleled severity of 
the weather, and to the fact that there had 
been so many alarms within the week, 
requiring so large an amount of harassing 
service of the fire department, tlie latter 
did not rally with its accustomed alacrity. 
It was soon found, too, that the effort put 
forth to check the power of the conflagra- 
tion in tliat quarter to which the wind was 
so vehemently urging it, was utterly una- 
vailing. The water so plenteously thrown 
upon it by hydrants and engines, was 
blown back in the faces, and fell con- 
gealed at the feet of the brave firemen, or 
seemed only to add to the fury and force 
of the destroyer, which rapidly embraced 
the great range of houses on the opjiosite 



side, until the wliole triangular block, 
formed by Wall, William, and Pearl 
streets, became one lofty altar of waving 
fires. From this point, taking the direc- 
tion of Wall street below Pearl, on the 
one hand, and Pearl street below Wall, 
on the other, the flames rolled on, mocking 
all human endeavors to restrain them. 

Advancing thus in two grand divisions, 
the conflagration, as contrasted with the 
red masses of buildings which they alter- 
nately illuminated with glaring brightness 
and wrajiped in huge volumes of smoke, 
conve\ed to the beholder the idea of some 
fabulous monster of licstruction, waving 
its wings over its helpless and devoted 
prey. 

The extraordinary strength of the Wall 
street buildings — manj' of them resisting 
firmly the assaults of the destroyer, and 
none of the walls crumbling and falling 
into the street, as is so generally the case 
— did more for the security of those north 
of the street, than anything within the 
power of human effort. Onward, how- 
ever, still onward, continued the resistless 
sweep of destruction, involving some of I ] 
the most massive blocks of warehouses in 
the world, crammed with the costliest of 
goods from every section and clime. 

After consuming the Phwnix buildings 
on Wall street, the fire pursued its 
way to Water street. Front street, and 
at length, as the morning dawned, 
to South street, adjoining the East 
river. But progressing at the same 
time, through Pearl street, on both sides, 
towards Hanover square, it crossed and 
speedily devoured Governeur lane, Jones's 
lane, and the whole of Front and Water 
streets that lay between Wall street and 
Franklin nuirket. In the meantime, it 
was furiously extending through Exchange 
street and Exchange place to William 
street, and to all tin- luiildings in the rear 
of the Merchants' Exchange. 

This magnificent and licautiful edifice, 
which, for the elegant grandeur of its ar- 
chitecture, w.is the jiride not only of 
New York but of the whole country, it 
was hoped would continue to rear its dome 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



355 




111 the skj', though all around it should 
become a scene of desolation — for, there 
being no flames between it and the course 
of the wind, it seemed fortunately secure 
from any imminent danger. And so much 
eontidence was reposed in this presumption, 
that the building was selected as the grand 
depot for the most precious kinds of mer- 
cliandise that could be rescued from the 
adjacent streets, and with which its great 
hall was completely piled. Every pre- 
caution, too, was taken to preserve it, by 
conveying hose to its roof, and by spread- 
ing wet blankets along those parts of the 
windows and cornices most exposed to the 
heat. But all proved vain ! At about one 
o'clock in the morning the splendid edifice 
took fire, and although the flames preyed 
upon it but slowly for some time, they at 
length burst forth from its roof and dome, 
and weaved a pall of ruin over its vast and 
beautiful form. For full half an hour, the 
flames arose in pyramidal columns, from 
Its dome, up to an immense height in the 
troubled sky, and rendered it a most sub- 
lime though fearful object. But before 



VIEW OF WALL STREET UDRINO THE FIRE. 



the unhappy persons who had made it a 
refuge for their property from the terrible 
enemy that was abroad, could again rescue 
scarcely an article, the dome fell in with a 
portentous crash, burying beneath its 
ruined arches the new and beautiful statue 
of the illustrious Hamilton. A gallant effort 
was made to save this statue, by a young 
officer from the navy j^ard, with a party of 
four or five sailors; they had actually 
succeeded in removing it from the pedestal, 
when the danger from the approaching 
fall of the roof,— watched with breathless 
anxiety by the terror-stricken multitude- 
compelled them to seek safety in flight. 

At this time, the fire on Pearl street had 
reached Hanover square, which large space 
of ground was covered with goods. A 
desperate struggle was made to save them, 
but so rapidly did the fire spread on both 
sides of the square, that, in a short time, 
everything was reduced to cinders. Of 
the South Dutch church, which had also 
been stored with valuables, nothing was 
left but the bare walls. The post-office 
shared the same desolation. 



350 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 



To check the .augmenting avalanche of 
lire, when water could not be thrown upon 
it or seemed of no avail if it was, gun- 
powder was at last resorted to; but none, 
in sufficient quantities was to be procured 
in the city, it not being allowed as an 
article of merchandise. An application at 
the fort on Governor's Island was unsuc- 
cessful ; but a supply was ultimately pro- 
cured, after daylight, from the Brooklyn 
navy yard, with a corps of marines, and 
the demolition of some prominent build- 
ings by this means, contributed materially 
to the subjugation of the flames, which 
was finally effected at Coenties slip, about 
noon of Thursday, after an awful and 
uninterrupted devastation of sixteen hours. 

Thus, seventeen of the most valuable 
' blocks ' in the nione>- and business part 
of the city were totally destroyed, and 
three otiiers nearly so. The total loss, as 
given in the New American Cyclopaedia, 
was more than eighteen million dollars ! 
Six hundred and seventy buildings were 
burnt, principally- occupied as importing 
and wholesale warehouses, — the seat, in- 
deed, of the greatest monetary sind com- 
mercial transactions on the American con- 
tinent. It is not likely that the destruc- 
tion of any given section of any other city 
in tlie world, of equal extent, would have 
involved a greater loss of capital, or ruined 
the fortunes of a larger number of men. 
TIh' south side of Wall street was half 
destroyed. William, Pearl, Water, Front 
and South streets, from Wall street to 
Coenties slip, were in ruins. Exchange 
place, Hanover street. Merchant street, 
and Hanover square, were entirely de- 
stroyed ; Stone street, from Pearl to Broad 
street, nearly so. Some of the buildings 
on Broad street suffered; but throughout 
the night this noble avenue was univer- 
sally regarded as the onlj' efficient barrier 
against the entire destruction of the first 
ward, involving results almost incalculable, 
to property of every description. 

Before the gunpowder was used in blow- 
ing up the buildings, there were constantlj' 
heard loud reports caused hy explosions 
of casks of spirits, chemicals, and other 



substances. During the entire night, the 
scene was one of awful terror and inde- 
scribable grandeur. The drought of the 
season had contributed to the combusti- 
bility of the materials, and the rapidity 
with which house after house, range after 
range of buildings, was wrapped in flames, 
was frightful to the beholder. The gale 
being strong, large flakes of fire were 
borne whirling aloft, through the dark 
vault of heaven, with fearful splendor. 

Among the notice.ible matters of curi- 
osity, observed during the progress of the 
conflagration, was the resistance offered 
so long and staunchly to the flames, by 
the South Dutch church. Rev. Dr. Mat- 
thews's, but which finally yielded to the 
all-conquering foe. The bright gold ball 
and star surmounting the structure — 
crowning the highest point of the spire — 
gleamed brilliantly ; and thus, while the 
two were shining, in the deep blue con- 
cave, with an intensity of brightness 
which attracted general remark, they sud- 
denly gave one surge, and fell, in all their 
glory, into the chaotic heap beneath. 
Similar was the fate of the Hamilton 
statue, which, towering brightly amidst 
the sea of flames that dashed against its 
crackling base, cast a mournful glance on 
the terrific scene, and then fell with stately 
motion, perishing under the crush of the 
edifice of which it had been, as it were, 
the tutelary genius. A fine old syca- 
more, near the corner of Beaver and Wil- 
liam streets, on the premises formerly 
occupied by Cadwallader D. Colden, vig- 
orously resisted the foe, standing un- 
harmed amid the ruins. 

At the head of one of the slips, a novel 
spectacle occurred. A large quantity of 
turpentine, piled up in barrels, caught the 
flames and burnt with great fury, on ac- 
count of its peculiarly inflammable charac- 
ter. It ran downi in a stream, like burn- 
ing lava, into the dock, upon the surface 
of the water, and, being lighter than the 
latter, spread out until it had covered a 
vast extent, giving the river the appear- 
ance of one rolling mass of liquid fire, 
startling but beautiful to behold. 



GEEAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



357 



Peculiarly exciting was the doom which 
overtook Hanover square, where every- 
body tliouglit tlie goods deposited woukl 
be perfectly safe. In this great area, 
there was accumulated from the stock of 
all the French stores, a mass of silks, 
satins, laces, dresses in pattern, capes. 
Cashmere shawls, and the richest kinds of 
fancy articles, forming an enormous pile 
sixty feet wide by twenty-five feet in 
height, or nearly one hundred feet square. 
Suddenly, and to the apalling consterna- 
tion of the anxious throng, a gust of llame, 
like a streak of lightning, came from the 
north-east corner building, and shooting 



and happy, were the next day bankrupts, 
utterly ruined. Stephen Whitney's loss, 
in stores, stock, and goods, was estimated 
at nearly half a million dollars. In one 
of the stores consumed, were eight hun- 
dred thousand j)ounds of lead ; after the 
fire was over, and the rubbish removed, it 
was found that the lead had melted into 
prodigious masses, so that the owner had 
to quarry it out. 

The great dry goods firm of which 
Arthur Tappan, the renowned abolition 
leader, was at the head, escaj/ied, peculiarly, 
the absolute ruin in which so many of the 
other great firms were involved. Their 




THE GREAT COXFLAGKATHJN AS VIEWED FROM COENTIES SLIP. 



wildly across the square, blown by the 
strong wind, set fire to the entire mass. 
No human effort could for a moment suc- 
cessfully interpose, and in a few moments 
the whole was but a heap of cinders and 
ashes. 

Some of the individual losses were, of 
course, immense ; as an example, one mer- 
chant had in silks alone, three hundred 
thousand dollars, which were destroyed; 
another, two hundred thousand dollars in 
teas and brandies. Many who went home 
to their families that evening, prosperous 



store being of stone, and having window- 
shutters of thick boiler iron — put on after 
the mobs of the previous year, — withstood 
the flames for nearly an hour, while all 
was in a blaze around it, so that there was 
thus afforded time to carry out the books 
and papers, and a very large amount of 
goods, estimated at one hundred thousand 
dollars in value, placing them, after two 
removes, beyond the spread of the fire. 
The energy and daring with which the 
colored people pressed forward, in the face 
of every obstacle, to save Mr. Tappan's 



358 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



property, greatly impressed the b\-standers. 
It was >yitli difficulty they were restrained 
from rushing in, after the flames had 
burst out at the door. In addition to the 
value of what they thus saved, was a con- 
siderable insurance. 

As usual, those miscreants who always 
avail themselves of such public opportuni- 
ties to exercise their skill in plundering, 
did not neglect the present most fruitful 
and tempting occasion. The extent of 
their depredations, and the number of rob- 
bers who committed them, were commen- 
surate with the extent and character of 
the conflagration. More than ninety rob- 
bers were taken in the act of carrying 
away property during the night of the 
fire ; and the ensuing day, some two hun- 
dred more were arrested for having in 
their possession property which was stolen 
from the fire. Tlie scenes at the police 
office, growing out of these criminal prac- 
tices, were of a kind that beggared de- 
scription, — the squalid misery of the 
greater part of those who were arrested 
with their ill-gotten spoils, the lies and 
prevarications to which they resorted to 
induce the magistrates not to commit 
them to prison, their objurgations and 
wailings when the}' found they must re- 
linquish the splendid prizes they had 
seized during the raging of the fire and 
the accompanying excitement. The num- 
bers in which these persons were brought 
up for examination, by the police and mil- 
itary, exceeded anything of a similar kind 
on record. For three days and nights, 
every place capable of affording detention 
was crammed with these unhapj)y culprits 
— sometimes as many as one hundred 
being in confinement at the same 
moment. Hundreds were discharged 
without any other proceeding.s than 
nuTcly taking from them their plunder; 
and, indeed, but very few of the whole 
number, oven those who had pillaged to a 
very large amount, could be convicted in 
a court of justice, in consequence of the 
impossibility of identifying, by the neces- 
sary legal proof in such cases, the prop- 
erty stolen. Iiiit thus it was — the night 



of terror was made a carnival of lawless- 
ness and crime ! 

On the second night after the conflagra- 
tion, a couple of gentlemen observed a 
stout Irishwoman walking up Pearl street, 
near the corner of Wall street, with what 
was evidently a ponderous bundle under 
her cloak. When she saw the gentlemen 
observing her, she immediately commenced 
singing, with the usu;d maternal tone 
and accent, ' Hush-a-by, baby,' etc. The 
gentlemen thinking that the poor baby 
w.is quite worrisome, offered tlieir aid to 
quiet its infant restlessness. ' Oh, bless 
your honors, she's asleep now,' was the 
response. The gentlemen still persisted 
in having a peep at the blooming little 
cherub. She resisted — but manly tender- 
ness could not be overcome thus. On 
opening the cloak, they found that the 
dear little creature, in the terror of the 
moment, had actually changed into an 
armful of the richest silk and satin goods, 
.slightly- burnt at the ends. The affection- 
ate mother was immediately secured and 
put be3-ond the reach of any similar 
maternal trials. 

It is supposed that a thousand baskets 
of champagne were broken and destroyed, 
the toj)s being unceremoniously knocked 
off, and the contents drank up by the 
crowds surrounding the fire or working. 
An immense quantity of baskets of cham- 
pagne were to be seen floating in the 
docks, and cheese and provisions were pro- 
fusely scattered about. Had it not been 
for the civic patrols formed in several of 
the wards, in-oiierty to a nnich greater 
amount would have been iiillaged. The 
United Slates marines, too, in a large 
body, under official command, formed a 
c.omplete chain of sentinels, all along 
South street, from the Fulton ferry to 
Wall street, and uj) Wall to the Exchange; 
they kept their post, with bayonets fixed, 
all night, and proved a terror to the hordes 
of thieves hovering around. Nevertheless, 
in addition to the inevitable robberies 
after the ordinary methods, vast quanti- 
ties of merchandise were carried off 
in boats, during the long nights, and 



GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



359 



secreted on the Long Island and Jersej' 
shores. 

One of the most remarkable develop- 
ments of crime, in the midst of these 
scenes of terror and disaster, was the case 
of the man caught in the act of setting 
fire to the house at the corner of Stone and 
Broad streets. It is scarcely possible to 
conceive, that there could exist such a 
fiend as this in human shape, without sup- 
posing him to be either a maniac, or drunk 
with liquor. It would seem, however, to 
have been done with design — and that of 
the most diabolical nature, — when it is 
considered that the fearful apprehensions 
of the whole of that part of the city were 
directed to this point, lest the fire would 
cross it and reach the Battery. 

On the determination, finally arrived at, 
to check the onward march of the fire liy 
blowing up the buildings with gunpowder, 
the fate of the city was believed to hang. 
The material with which to carry out this 
plan was, as already observed, obtained 
with difficult}', but it was used effectually 
when once secured. Nothing could be 
more characteristic than the entire sang 
froid with which the sailors of Captain 
Mix's party carried about, wrapped up in 
a blanket, or a pea-jacket, as it might hap- 
pen, kegs and barrels of gunpowder, amid 
a constant shower of fire, as they cour- 
ageously followed their officers to the 
various buildings indicated for destruction. 
Stung with the cold, the hardy fellows 
never for a moment quailed in the per- 
formance of their duty. So inclement, 
indeed, did the weather continue, that 
many of the firemen were compelled to 
take the fine blankets saved from the 
flames, and, cutting a hole through them, 
convert them into temporary cloaks ; in 
this attire thej' were seen the ensuing day, 
dragging home their engines, many of the 
poor fellows being so exhausted bj' fatigue 
and bitten by the cold, that they were well 
nigh asleep as they walked. One entire 
company, thus accoutered, — thinking the 
best way of dealing with their troubles was 
to make light of them, — had artificial 
wreaths and bunches of artificial flowers. 



of the richest kind, in their caps, picked 
up from the wreck of matter scattered 
beneath their feet ; in this garb, they 
left the scene of their protracted toil, pre- 
senting a very singular contrast with 
their begrimmed faces and jaded appear- 
ance. 

The striking advantage of railroads 
(then in their infancy in the United 
States), especiallj' at a season when every- 
thing is locked up in ice, was never more 
emphatically demonstrated, than in the 
prompt arrival of fire engines from New- 
ark, N. J., nine miles distant. The same 
locomotive that earlj' on Thursday morn- 
ing carried out the news of the great fire, 
brought these engines on their platform 
within an hour afterwards to the cit3^ 
Their services were eminently useful. The 
noble conduct, too, of the Philadelphia 
firemen, won for them deserved praise. 
Immediately on the receipt of the intelli- 
gence from New York, four hundred of 
them organized themselves and started to 
go on. Unfortunately, by the breaking 
down of one of the cars on the railroad, a 
large number of them were obliged to go 
back, but some arrived early on Saturday 
morning, and the remainder followed with 
as little delaj' as possible. They reported 
themselves immediately on arrival, and 
having stations assigned them amid the 
ruins, went to work with great spirit and 
effect. 

The appearance of things on the day 
after the fire, was such as to impress itself, 
ineffaceably, upon the memory. It re- 
quired but a slight stretch of the imagi- 
nation, for the beholder to feel as though 
he were in the vicinity of Pompeii, with 
Vesuvius sending up its lurid glare close 
at hand, throwing a melancholj' light over 
the deserted ruins. Just here arose a 
large and ragged pile, where the corners 
of four stately buildings still stood up by 
mutual support; there towered grandly a 
solitary chimney; yonder stood the frown, 
ing fragment of a vast wall ; a little far- 
ther, was the front of a half block, the 
windows gone, — reminding one, in the 
dim distance, of the vacancy and desola- 



360 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(>-1876. 




Illi: MKUCUAXTS EXCUANOK. 



tion of ;i castle ; in the midst, there 
loomed up half a dozen cold-visaged granite 
liillar.-i, standing as though they were grim 
and solitary sentinels, stationed there to 
frighten the plunderer from his ill-sought 
booty. But here is the grandest ruin of 
all — the Exchange ! with its huge pillars 
rent and torn from top to bottom, and the 
massy architraves, like the antiquated 
temples of Carthage and Palmyra, still 
tottering upon their capitals ! So vast 
was the barren waste, that an uninter- 
rupted view was afforded from Wall street 
to the East river, and theuce to Coenties 
slip ; a prospect of awful grandeur, as far 
as the eye could reach. 

As has already been stated, the Exchange 
was the architectural pride, not only of 
New York, but of the nation. It was 
three magnificent stories in height, with 
corresponding basement and attic. The 
south-west front, one hundred and fourteen 
feet front, and the main front on Wall 
street, was of Westchester marble. The 
first and second stories were of the Ionic 
order, from the temple of Minerva Polias, 
at Prigne, in Ionia. A recessed elliptical 
portico, of forty feet widtli, introduced in 



front. A screen of four columns and two 
antir, each thirty feet high, and three feet 
four inches in diameter above the base, 
composed of a single block of marble, ex- 
tended across the front of the portico, sup- 
porting an elegant entablature of six feet 
in height, on which rested the third story, 
making a height of sixty feet from the 
ground, and the cupola which crowned the 
structure was also sixty feet high. 

The jjrincipal entrance to the rotunda 
and exchange room was by a tiight of 
marble steps, with a pedestal at each end. 
The vestibule was of the Ionic order, 
from the little Ionic temple of Illyssus. 
The exchange room, which was the rotunda, 
measured seventy-five feet long, fifty feet 
wide, and fortj'-two feet high. In the 
center of this splendid rotunda was 
erected, by the liberality of the New York 
merchants, the statue of Alexander Ham- 
ilton, sculptured by Ball Hughes. This 
fine work of art was about fifteen feet 
high, including the base on which it was 
elevated, and .hiseled from the whitest 
marble. 

After a long and critical oflBcial investi- 
gation, as to the origin of this fire, the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



361 



conclusion arrived at by the citizens' com- 
mittee, was, that a report like an explo- 
sion of a gas-pipe was heard in the store 
No. 25 Merchant street, to proceed from 
No. 28, and soon after the flames seemed 
to have been enkindled on the first floor, 
and shot up with the rapidity of light- 



ning through the scuttles in the several 
floors to the upper story and through the 
roof. The fire, therefore, must have been 
produced by the bursting of a gas-pipe, 
and the distribution of the gas, until it 
came in contact with the coal in the stove 
or grate, by which it was ignited. 



XL. 

STRUGGLE FOR THE RIGHT OF PETITION IN CON- 

GRESS.-1836. 



John Quincy Adams, tlie " Old Man Eloquent," Carries on a Contest of Eleven Days, Single-Handed, 
in its Defense, in the House of Hepresentatives — Passage of tlie " Gag Rule." — Expulsion and Assas- 
sination Threatened. — His L'nquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed Before in the Halls of 
Legislation — Triumph of His Master Mind — The Right and Petition a Constitutional One. — Indiscrim- 
inate and Unrestricted. — Anti-Slavery Petitions. — Mr. Adams Tlieir Champion. — An Unpopular Posi- 
tion. — He Defies every Menace. — His Bold and Intrepid Conduct. — The North and South at Variance. 
Monster Petitions Pour In — A Memorial from Slaves. — Wild Tumult in the House. — Cries of " Expel 
the Old Scoundrel ! " — Proposal to Censure and Disgrace Him. — Mr. Adams Unmoved Amidst the 
Tempest. — Eloquence and Indomitableness — A Petition to Dissolve the Union. — Increased Exasper- 
ation. — Violent and Denunciatory Debate. — Sublime Bearing of Mr. Adams. — Vindicated and Vic- 
torious at Last. — What He Lived to See. — Honor from His Opponents. 



** Thonsh sgcd, ))e wm to iron of limb, 
Noncoftlie youth could cope with himt 
And the fo«i whom he ilngir kept at bsy. 
Outnumbered his hnin of whitv ftDd gra/." 



ENERABLE in years, and laden with political 
honors — such as a king might be proud of, John 
Quincy Adams took his seat as a member of the 
lioiisi- of representatives at Washington, in 1831. 
It was about this time, that the anti-shxvery socie- 
ties of the North began to petition congress for the 
nbdlition of slavery in the District of Columbia, the 
iiiliiliition of the inter-state slave-trade, and kin- 
dred measures. Though comparatively few at the 
outset, the petitioners for these objects increased 
greatly in numbers during the ne.xt four or five 
years, until they reached, in one congress, three- 
fourths of a million. But not all of these petition- 
ers were ' abolitionists,' in the then commonly 
accepted meaning of that term. In the defense of 
t]>e untrammeled right of petition, as also that of 
the freedom of speech and of the press, it became 
parties, that not alone was the right to discuss and 
petition in regard to slavery involved, but that vital constitutional principles were at 
stake, and that these must be defended, irrespective of the merits of the particular sub- 
ject over which the battle was waged. It was upon this broad ground that Mr. Adams, 




.MO>"Srt:K ITIIIIUN Tit CONGRESS. 

evident to considcnite men. nl' all 



GREAT AUB MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



363 



' the old man eloquent,' as he was famil- 
iarly called, became at once the champion 
of freedom of debate and the right of peti- 
tion in the national legislature, making 
not America only, but the civilized world, 
resound with the clash of the conflict. Of 
the long and eventful life of this extraor- 
dinary man, the chapter covering the 
events here recorded may perhaps be 
regarded as the most striking and brilliant. 
The exalted positions he had held, almost 
from the very foundation of the govern- 
ment, his multifarious learning, his world- 
wide renown, lent luster to the cause ; 
while his exhaustless resources, his skill in 
debate, his dauntless courage and indomit- 
able will, were a tower of strength to its 
friends, and, as the sequel will show, a 
source of mortification and discomfit- 
ure to its foes. No threats and no tu- 
mults could for a moment cause him to 
quail or waver in liis heroic determina- 
tion. 

On the twelfth of December, 1831, Mr. 
Adams, then at the very outset of his con- 
gressional career, presented fifteen peti- 
tions, all numerously signed, from inhabi- 
tants of Pennsylvania, praying for the 
abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in 
the District of Columbia. In presenting 
these petitions, Mr. Adams remarked, that 
although the petitioners were not his 
immediate constituents, he inferred, from a 
letter which accompanied the petitions, 
that they came from members of the Soci- 
ety of Friends, or Quakers, — a body of 
men, he declared, than whom there was no 
more respectable and worthy class of citi- 
zens in the whole countrj'. At the same 
time, while he considered that the petitions 
for the aljolition of the slave-trade in the 
District related to a proper subject for the 
legislation of Congress, he did not approve 
of those which prayed for the congressional 
abolition of slavery there. 

Similar petitions were constantly for- 
warded from different parts of the land, 
during successive terms of congress, for 
Mr. Adams to i)resent, the parties well 
knowing that they could rely upon his 
scrupulous fidelity to them in the high 



places of j)ower, and that, against all men- 
aces or blandishments, he would intrepidly 
advocate that most sacred ju'ivilege of free- 
men — the right of petition. 

Becoming alarmed at these demonstra- 
tions, the southern members of congress 
determined to arrest them, and, on the 
eighth of February, 1836, a committee of 
the house was appointed to consider what 
disposition should be made of petitions and 
memorials of this nature. The report of 
this committee consisted, in substance, of 
three resolutions, as follows : First, that 
congress could not constitutionally inter- 
fere with slaverj' in any of the states ; 
second, that it ought not to interfere with 
slaverj' in the District of Columbia ; third, 
that all petitions, propositions, or papers of 
any kind, relating to the subject, should, 
if brought before congress, be laid upon 
the table, without liberty of debate, and 
receive no further action. This report 
u-as the casting of the die. AVell was it 
called the "Gag Rule." 

When the first of these resolutions was 
taken up, Mr. Adams said, if the house 
would allow him five minutes' time, he 
would prove the resolution to be untrue. 
His request was denied. On the third 
declaration, Mr. Adams refused to vote, 
and sent to the speaker's chair the follow- 
ing protest, demanding that it should be 
placed on the journal of the house, there 
to stand to the latest posterity : 

"I hold the resolution to be a direct vio- 
lation of the constitution of the United 
States, of the rules of this house, and of 
the rights of my constituents." 

Notwithstanding the rule embodied in 
this resolution virtually trampled the right 
of petition into the dust, yet it was adopted 
by the house, by a large majority. But 
Mr. Adams was not to be baffled by this 
arbitrary restriction. Petitions on the 
subject of slavery continued to be trans- 
mitted to him in increased numbers, some 
of them of monster size, bearing thousands 
of signatures. With unwavering firmness 
— against a bitter and unscrupulous oppo- 
sition, exasperated to the highest pitch by 
his unconquerable i)ertinacity — amidst a 



364 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



perfect tempest of vitiii)oration and abuse 
— lie persevered, uiivanquislied, in present- 
ing these petitions, one by one, to the 
amount sonietinics of two hundred in a 
day, and demanding tlie attention of the 
house on each separate petition. His 
position in these scenes, — advocating, 
amiilst scorn and derision, and tlireats of 
expulsion and assassination, the inalienable 




U. JL . JitJuarr/iA 

right of petition for the poorest and hum- 
blest in the land, — was in the highest 
degree illustrious and sublime ; a spectacle 
unwitnessed before in the halls of legisla- 
tion. 

On the sixth of January, 1837, Mr. 
Adams presented the petition of one hun- 
dred and fifty women, whom he stated to 
be the wives and daughters of his immcili- 
ate constituents, ))raying for the abolition 
of slavery in the District of Columbia; 
and he moved that the petition be read. 
Objection was made, whereujwn ^Ir. 
Adams remarked that, understanding that 
it was not the petition itself which was 
laid upon the table, but the motion to 
receive, he gave notice that he should call 
up that motion, for decision, every day, so 
long as freedom of speech was allowed to 
him as a member of the house. Being 
called to order at this stage of proceedings, 
Mr. Adams said he would then have the 
honor of presenting to the house the ]>eti- 
tion of two hundred and twenty-eight 
women, the wives and daughters of his 



immediate constituents; and, as a part of 
the speech which he intended to make, be 
would take the liberty of reading the peti- 
tion, which was not long, and would not 
consume much time. Objection being 
made to the reception of the petition, Mr. 
Adams at once proceeded to read, that the 
jietitioners, inhabitants of South Wej-- 
mouth, in the state of Massachusetts, 
" impressed with the sinfulness of slavery, 
and keenly aggrieved l>_v its existence in 
a part of our country over which con- 
gress " 

Here Mr. Pincknej-, of South Carolina, 
rose to a question of order, and, after a 
brisk colloquy in the house, the speaker 
ruled that Mr. Adams must confine him- 
self to stating the contents of the petition. 

Mr. Adams. — I am doing so, sir. 

The Speaker. — Not in the opinion of 
the chair. 

Mr. Adawx. — I was at this point of the 
petition: "Keenly aggrieved by its exist- 
ence in a part of our country over which 
congress possesses exclusive jurisdiction 
in all cases whatsoever " 

Loud cries of "Order," "Order ! " 

Mr. A(/am.i. — " Do most earnestly peti- 
tion your honorable body " 

Mr. Chambers, of Kentucky, rose to a 
point of order. 

^fr. Adiiw.^. — "Immediately to abolish 
slavery in the District of Columbia " 

Mr. Chambers reiterated his call to 
order, and the Speaker directed Mr. 
Adams to take his seat. 

Mr. Adams proceeded, however, with 
great ra])idity of enunciation, and in a 
very loud tone of voice — "And to declare 
I'very human being free who sets foot upon 
its .wil ! " 

The confusion in the hall at this time 
was very great. The speaker decided that 
it was not in order for a member to read a 
petition, whether it was long or short. 

Mr. Adams ajipealed from any decision 
which went to establish the principle that 
a member of the United States house of 
representatives should not have the power 
to read what he chose. He had never 
before heard of such a thin};. If the hith- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



365 



erto invariable practice was to be reversed, 
let the decision stand upon record, and let 
it appear how entirely the freedom of 
speech was suppressed iu this house. If 
the reading of a paper was to be suppressed 
in his person, so help him God, he would 
only consent to it as a matter of record. 
Saying this, he instantly resumed and 
finished the reading of the petition, that 
the petitioners 

" respectfully announce their inten- 
tion to present the same petition yearly 
before this honorable body, that it might 
at least be a memorial in the holj' cause of 
human freedom, that they had done what 
they could." 

These words were read by Mr. Adams, 
at the top of his voice, amidst tumultuous 
cries of "order" from every part of the 
house. The petition was finally received, 
and laid upon the table. 

One month after this, namel_y, on the 
seventh of February, after Mr. Adams had 
offered some two hundred or more aboli- 
tion petitions, he came to a halt, and, with- 
out yielding the floor, employed himself in 
packing up or arranging his budget of 
documents. He was about resuming his 
seat, when, suddenly glancing at a paper 
on his desk, he took it up, and exclaimed, 
in a shrill tone — 

" Mr. Speaker, I have in my possession, 
a petition of a somewhat extraordinary 
character ; and I wish to inquire of the 
chair if it be in order to present it." 

The Speaker replied, that if the gentle- 
man from Massachusetts would state the 
character of the petition, the chair would 
probably be able to decide on the subject. 

"Sir," ejaculated Mr. Adams, "the 
petition is signed by eleven slaves of the 
town of Fredericksburg, in the county of 
Culpepper, in the state of Virginia. It is 
one of those petitions which, it has oc- 
curred to my mind, are not what they 
purport to be. It is signed partly by per- 
sons who cannot write, by making their 
marks, and partly by persons whose hand- 
writing would manifest that they have 
received the education of .slaves. The 
petition declares itself to be from slaves. 



and I am requested to present it. I will 
send it to the chair." 

The speaker, Mr. Polk, who habitually 
extended to Mr. Adams evevy courtesy 
and kindness imaginable, was taken by 
surpri.se, and found himself involved in a 
dilemma. Giving his chair one of those 
hitches which ever denoted his excitement, 
he said that a petition from slaves was a 
novelty, and involved a question that he 
did not feel called on to decide. He 
would like to take time to consider it ; and, 
in the meantime, would refer it to the 
house. The house was very thin at the 
time, and but little attention was paid to 
what was going on, till the excitement of 
the speaker attracted the attention of Mr. 
Dixon H. Lewis, of Alabama, who impa- 
tiently, and under great excitement, rose 
and inquired what the petition was. The 
speaker furnished the required informa- 
tion ; whereupon Mr. Lewis, forgetting all 
discretion, whilst he frothed at the mouth, 
turned towards Mr. Adams, and exclaimed, 
in thunder-tones — 

"By , sir, this is not to be endured 

anil Jonfjer!" 

" Treason ! treason ! Expel the old scoun- 
drel ; put him out; do not let him disgrace 
the house any longer," screamed a half 
dozen other members. 

" Get up a resolution to meet the case," 
exclaimed a member from North Carolina. 
Mr. George C. Dromgoole, who had ac- 
quired quite a reputation as a jjarliamen- 
tarian, was selected as the very man who, 
of all others, was most capable of drawing 
up a resolution that would meet and cover 
the emergency. He produced a resolution 
and preamble, in which it was stated, sub- 
stantially, that, whereas the Hon. John 
Quincj"- Adams, a representative from Mas- 
sachusetts, had presented to the house a 
petition signed by negro slaves, thus 
" giving color to an idea " that bondmen 
were capable of exercising the right of 
petition, it was " Resolved, That he be 
taken to the bar of the house, and be cen- 
sured by the speaker thereof." 

A still more stringent resolution was 
introduced by Hon. Waddy Thompson, 



366 



OUK FIRST CENTUKV.— 177(>-1876. 



nanielj', that Mr. Adams, '' haviiij; been 
guilty of gross disrespect to the house, be 
instantly brought to the bar, to receive 
the severe censure of the speaker.'' Sev- 
eral other resolutions and propositions, 
from members of slave-holding states, were 
submitted, but none proved satisfactory 
even to tliemselves. The idea of bringing 
the venerable ex-president to the bar, like 
a culi)rit, to receive a rci)riniand from a 
comi)aratively youthful speaker, was equal- 
ly disgraceful and absurd. Mr. Adams, 
however, entirely unmoved by the tempest 
which raged around him, defended him- 
self, and the integrity of his purpose, with 
his accustomed ability and eloquence. 

"In regard to the resolutions now 
before the house," said he, "as they all 
concur in naming me, and in charging me 
with high crimes and misdemeanors, and 
in calling me to the bar of the house to 
answer for my crimes, I have thought it 
was my duty to remain silent, until it 
sliould be the pleasure of the house to act 
either on one or the other of these resolu- 
tions. I suppose that if I shall be brought 
to the bar of the house, I shall not be 
struck mute by the previous question, 
before I have an opportunity to say a word 
or two in my own defense." 

"Now, as to the fact whiit the petition 
was for," said Mr. Adams, in another por- 
tion of his speech, " I simply state to the 
gentleman from Alabama, who has sent to 
the table a resolution assuming that this 
petition was for the abolition of slavery — 
I state to him that he is mistaken. He 
must amend his resolution; for if the 
house should choose to read this petition, 
I can state to them they would find it 
something very much the reverse of that 
which the resolution states it to be. And 
it' till' gciitlcniau from Alabama still 
chooses to bring nie to the bar of the 
house, ho must amend his resolution in a 
very important particular; for he may 
probabl}' have to ]>ut into it, that my crime 
has been for attemi)ting to introduce the 
])etition of slaves that slavery should not 
lie abolished." 

Reiterating the principle, that the right 



of petition belongs to nil, Mr. Adams said 
that he felt it a sacred duty to present any 
petition, couched in respectful language, 
from any citizen of the United States, be 
its object what it might, — be the prayer of 
it that in which he could concur, or that to 
which he was utterly opposed; no law 
could be found, even in the most abject 
despotism, which deprives even the mean- 
est or most degraded, of the right to s\x\>- 
plicate for a boon, or to pra^- for mercy; 
there is no absolute monarch on earth, who 
is not compelled to receive tlie petitions of 
his people, whosoever they may be, — not 
even the sultan of Turkey can walk the 
streets and refuse to receive petitions from 
the lowest and vilest of the land. 

When southern members saw that, in 
their haste, they had not tarried to ascer- 
tain the nature of the petition, and that it 
prayed for the jicrpeUiation, instead of the 
abolition of slavery, their position became 
so ludicrous, that their exasperation was 
greatly increased. At the time the 
petition was announced by Mr. Adams, 
the house was very thin ; I'Ut the excite- 
ment that was produced soon tilled it; 
and, besides, the sergeant-at-arms had been 
instructed to arrest and bring in all absen- 
tees. The excitement commenced at about 
one o'clock, and continued until seven 
o'clock in the evening, when the house 
adjourned. ^Mr. Adams stood at his desk, 
resolutely refusing to be seated till the 
matter was disposed of, alleging that if 
he were guilty, he was not entitled to a 
seat among high and honorable men. 
When Mr. Dromgoole's resolution was 
read to the house, for its consideration, 
Mr. Adams yielded to it one of those sar- 
castic sneers which he was in the habit of 
giving, when provoked to satire; and said 
— "Mr. Speaker, if I iniderstand the reso- 
lution of the honorable gentleman from 
Virginia, it charges me with being guilty 
of 'giving color to an idea !'" The whole 
house broke forth in one common, irrepres- 
sible peal of laughter, at this capital double 
entendre; and the Dromgoole resolution 
was actually laughed out of existence. 
The house now found tluit it had got itself 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



367' 



in a dilemma — that Mr. Adams was too 
much for it ; and, at last, adjourned, leav- 
ing the affair in the position in which 
they found it. 

For several days this subject continued 
to agitate the house — and the nation. Mr. 
Adams not only warded off the virulent 
attacks made upon him, but carried the 
war so effectually into the camp of his ene- 
mies, that, becoming heartily tired of the 
contest, they repeatedly endeavored to get 
rid of the whole subject by laying it on 
the table. To this Mr. Adams objected. 
He insisted that it should be thoroughly 
canvassed. Immense excitement contin- 
ued, and call after call of the house was 
made. At length, the subject was brought 
to a termination by the passage of a pre- 
amble and resolution — much softened 
down, in comparison with what was at first 
proposed — declaring that the paper cannot 
be received, and tUat slaves have no right 
to petition. 

The slave petition in question is believed 
to have been a counterfeit, manufactured 
by certain members of congress from 
slave-holding states, and was sent to Mr. 
Adams by way of experiment — with the 
double design of ascertaining if he could 
be imposed upon ; and, if the deception 
succeeded, those who got it up were curi- 
ous to know if the venerable statesman 
would redeem his pledge, and present a 
jietition, no matter who it came from. He 
was too wily not to detect the plot at the 
outset ; he knew that all was a hoax ; but 
he resolved to present the paper, and then 
turn the tables upon its authors. 

His success in thus defeating his oppo- 
nents on their mad intention of censure, 
was one of the most signal instances of 
persoiial and parliamentary triumph. In 
vain did they threaten assassination, 
indictment before the grand jury, and 
other proceedings, to seal his lips in 
silence. In vain, too, did they declare 
that he should "be made amenable to 
another tribunal (mob law), and, as an 
incendiary, be brought to condign puni.sh- 
ment." "My life on it," said a southern 
member, " if he presents that petition from 



slaves, we shall yet see him within the 
walls of the penitentiary." Firm stood 
the white-haired sage of more than seventy 
winters, and with withering rebukes 
repelled his hot-blooded assailants. His 
clarion voice rang defiantly through the 
hall, as he said — 

" Do the gentlemen from the south 
think they can frighten me by their 
threats ? If that be their object, let me 
tell them, sir, theij have precisely mistaken 
their man. I am not to be frightened 
from the discharge of a sacred duty, by 
their indignation, by their violence, nor, 
sir, by all the grand juries in the universe. 
I have done only my dut3' ; and I shall do 
it again, under the same circumstances, 
even though they recur to-morrow." 

On the twenty -fourth of January, 1842, 
Mr. Adams presented the petition of forty- 
five citizens of Haverhill, Massachusetts, 
praj'ing that congress would immediately 
take measures peaceably to dissolve the 
Union of the States : First, because no 
union can be agreeable which does not 
present prospects of reciprocal benefits ; 
second, because a vast proportion of the 
resources of one section of the Union is 
annually drained to sustain the views and 
course of another section, without any 
adequate return ; third, because, judging 
from the history of past nations, such a 
union, if persisted in, in the present course 
of things, would certainly overwhelm the 
whole nation in utter destruction. 

Mr. Adams moved that the petition be 
referred to a select committee, with in- 
structions to report an answer showing the 
reasons why the prayer of it ought not to 
be granted. 

Immediate and wild excitement fol- 
lowed the presentation of this petition. 
Mr. Hopkins, of Virginia, moved to burn 
it in presence of the house. Mr. Wise, of 
the same state, asked the speaker if it was 
in order to move to censure any member 
for presenting such a petition. Mr. 
Gilmer, also of Virginia, moved, a resolu- 
tion, that Mr. Adams, for presenting such 
a petition, had justly incurred the censure 
of the house. Mr. Adams said he hoped 



368 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




JOHN QOTNCY ADAMS DEFENDING THE RIOIIT OF PETITION IN CONGRESS. 



that the resolution would be received and 
discussed. Angry debate continued, until 
the house adjourned. 

The ne.\t day, the whole body of south- 
ern members came into the house, appar- 
ently resolved to crush Mr. Adams and his 
cause — the right of petition — forever. 
They gathered in groups, conversed in 
whispers, and the whole aspect of their 
conduct at twelve o'clock indicated the 
upjiroach of some high-handed proceeding. 
Thomas F. Marshall, of Kentucky, who 
had been selected as spokesman for the 
occasion, rose, and, having asked and 
received of Mr. Gilmer leave to offer a 
substitute for his resolution of censure 
which was pending at the adjournment, 
j)resented throe resolutions, which had 
been prepared at a caucus, the night 
before, and which declared that the peti- 
tion in question involved a proposition to 
the house to commit perjury and high 
treason, and that Mr. Adams, for offering 
it, receive the severest censure of that 
body. 

Assuming a manner and tone as if he 



felt the historical importance of his posi- 
tion, he spoke with great coolness and 
solemnity, — a style wholly unusual with 
him; exhibited, too, a magisterial air, and 
judicial consequence, as if he thought that 
he was about to pour down the thunder of 
condemnation on the venerable object of 
his attack, as a judge pronouncing sentence ' 
on a convicted culj)rit, in the sight of 
ajiproving men and angels. The vast 
audience before whom he spoke were not 
to be left in any doubt of his eminent 
capacity to act the part ho had assumed, 
of jirosecutor, judge, and executioner. 

When Mr. Marshall concluded, the 
chair announced to Mr. Adams that his 
position entitled him to the floor ; bringing 
up to the imagination a jiarallel scene — 
' Then Agrippa said unto Paul, Thou art 
permitted to speak for thyself.' 

Up rose, then, that bald, gray old man, 
his hands trembling with constitutional 
infirmity and age, upon whose consecrated 
head the vials of ]>artisan wr.ath had been 
outpoured. Among the crowd of .slave- 
liolders wliu lillod the galleries he couM 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



369 



seek no friends, and but a few among tliose 
immediiitely around him. Unexcited, lie 
raised his voice, high-keyed, as was usual 
with him, but clear, untremulous, and 
firm. In a moment his infirmities disap- 
peared, although his shaking hand could 
not but be noticed ; trembling not with 
fear, but with age. At first there was 
nothing of indignation in his tone, manner, 
or words. Surprise and cold contempt 
were all. The thread of his great discourse 
was mainly his present and past relations 
to Virginia and Virginians. After grate- 
fully acknowledging his infinite obligations 
to the great Virginians of the first age of 
the federal republic, he modestly and 
unpretendingly recounted the unsought, 
exalted honors, heaped upon him liy Wash- 
ington, Madison, and Monroe, and detailed 
with touching simplicity and force some of 
his leading actions in the discharge of 
these weighty trusts. In pursuing his 
remarks, he chanced to fix his eye upon 
Marshall, who was moving down one of 
the side-aisles. Instantlj', at the sugges- 
tion of the moment, he burst forth in a 
touching appeal to the hallowed memory 
of Marshall, the venerated and immaculate 
Virginian, through a long career of judi- 
cial honor and usefulness. With a flash 
of withering scorn, Mr. Adams struck at 
the unhappy Marshall of another day. A 
single breath blew all his mock-judicial 
array into air and smoke. In a tone of 
insulted majesty and reinvigorated spirit, 
Mr. Adams then said, in reply to the auda- 
cious charge of high treason, 

"I call for the reading of the first para- 
graph of the Declaration of Independence. 
Read it! read it! and see what tliat saj's 
of the right of a people to reform, to 
change, to dissolve their government." 

The look, the tone, the gesture, of the 
insulted patriot, at that instant, were most 
imposing. He seemed to have renewed his 
youth like the eagles, and his voice was 
that of sovereign command. The burthen 
of seventy-five winters rolled off, and he 
jose above the puny things around him. 
When the passage of the Declaration was 
read which solemnly proclaims the right 
24 



of reform, revolution, and resistance to 
oppression, the grand old man thundered 
out — 

"Head that again!" 

Looking proudly around on the listen- 
ing audience, he heard his triumphant 
vindication sounded forth in the glorious 
sentences of the nation's Magna Charta, 
written by Mr. Jefferson, a Virginian. 
The sympathetic revulsion of feeling was 
intense, though voiceless ; every drop of 
free, honest blood in that vast assemblage 
bounded with high impulse, every fiber 
thrilled with excitement. The members 
of the house were all gathered around him, 
even his persecutors paying involuntary 
tribute to the ' old man eloquent.' Lord 
Morpeth was an attentive spectator and 
auditor ; and so were governors, senators, 
judges, and other high officials, innumera- 
ble. A strong exhibition of the facts in 
the case, niostlj' in cold, calm, logical, 
measured sentences, concluded Mr. Adams's 
effort, and he sat down, vindicated, victo- 
rious. 

Intemperate debates, with violence undi- 
minished, succeeded, in which all the 
topics of partj' censure, from the adoption 
of the constitution, were collected and 
heaped upon Mr. Adams, by Marshall, 
Wise, Gilmer, and others. No description 
can do justice to the effective eloquence of 
Mr. Adams in reply, — including amusing 
particulars of missives he had received 
from the south threatening him with 
assassination ; among other kindly hints, 
of this sort, sent through the post-office, 
being a colored lithograph portrait of him- 
self, with the picturesque annotation of a 
rifle-ball on the forehead, and a promise 
that such a remedy would "stop his 
music." 

On the eleventh day of this debate, Mr. 
Adams, in opening his defense, stated it 
as his intention to go over the whole affair, 
and that he should require a great deal 
more time, in addition to what had already 
been consumed; but he was willing to 
forego it all, provided it could be done 
without sacrificing his rights, the rights 
of his constituents, and those of the peti- 



370 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



tioners. He then stiitej, tliat if any 
gentleman would make a motion to lay the 
whole subject — that of which Marshall 
had been made the champion — on the 
table, he would forbear to proceed with 
his defense. This motion was at once 
made by Mr. Kotts, of Virginia, and car- 
ried by a vote of one hundred and si.\ to 
ninety-three. The petition from Haverhill 
was then refused to be received, three- 
fourths of the house voting against it. 

It would ai)i)ear well-nigh incredible, 
that a venerable man like Mr. Adams 
siiould lie able to carry on, for eleven 
days, almost single-handed, so great a con- 
test. That this was due, in no small 
degree, to his consummate skill as a jiar- 
liamentarian, cannot be (juestioned. The 
following memorable inst:ince of his power 
in this respect, will form a fitting close to 
this chajitcr. 

At the opening of the twcntj'-sixth con- 
gress, the clerk began to call the roll of 
the members, according to custom. When 
he came to New Jersey, he stated that 
five seats of the members from that state 
were contested, and that, not feeling him- 
self authorized to decide the question, he 
should pass over those names, and proceed 
with the call. This gave rise to a general 
and violent debate on the steps to be pur- 
sued under such circumstances. Innumer- 
able (piestions were raised, and proposi- 
tions made, but the house could not agree 
upon the mode of proceeding, and, from 
the second to the fifth da}', the house 
remained in a perfectly disorganized state, 
and in inextricable confusion, the clerk 
acting as tlie tool of his party. But the 
hour of disenthrallment was at hand; a 
scene was to be presented which would 
send the mind back to those days when 
Cromwell exclaimed, " Sir Harry Vane ! 
wo unto you, Sir Harry Vane I " — ami in 
an instant ilispersed the famous rumj> par- 
liament. 

Mr. Adams, from the opening of this 
scene of confusion and anarchy, had main- 
tained a ])rof()inid silence. He aiipeared 
to be engaged most of the time in writing. 
To a common observer he seemed to be 



reckless of everything around him. But 
nothing, not the slightest incident, escaped 
him. 

The fourth da}' of the struggle had 
now commenced. Mr. Hugh A. Garland, 
the clerk, was directed to call the roll 
again. He commenced with Maine, as 
usual in those days, and was proceeding 
towards Mass<achusetts. Mr. Adams was 
now observed to be holding himself in 
readiness to get the floor at the earliest 
moment possible. His eye was riveted 
on the clerk, his hands clasped the front 
edge of his desk, where he ahv.-iys placed 
them to assist him in rising. He looked, 
in the language of Otw.-iy, like a ' fowler 
eager for his prey.' 

'• New Jersey I " ejacidated Mr. Hugh 
Garland, " and the clerk has to repeat 

that " 

Mr. Adams sprang to the floor! 
"I rise to interrupt the clerk," was his 
first ejaculation. 

" Silence, silence ! " re-sounded through 
the hall. '"Hear him, hear him! Hear 
what he has to say ! Hear John Quincy 
Adams ! " was vociferated on all sides. 

In an instant, such jirofound silence 
reigned throughout the vast chamber, that 
the fall of a leaf of paper might have been 
heard in any part of it ; and every eye was 
riveted on the venerable Nestor of Massa- 
chusetts, — one of the purest of statesmen 
and noblest of men ! He paused for a 
moment, and, having given Mr. Garland 
a withering look, he proceeded to address 
the dense throng. 

'•It was not my intention," said he, "to 
take an}' part in these extraordinary Jiro- 
ceedings. I had Imped that this house 
W(nd(l succeed in organizing itself; that a 
speaker and clerk would be elected, and 
that the ordinary business of legislation 
would have been progressed in. This is 
not the time, or place, to discuss the 
merits of the conflicting claimants for 
seats from New Jersey ; that subject 
belongs to the house of representatives, 
which, by the constitution, is made the 
ultimate arbiter of the qualifications of its 
members. But what a spectacle we here 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



571 



present ! We degrade and disgrace our- 
selves ; we degrade and disgrace our con- 
stituents and our country. We do not, 
and cannot organize ; and why ? Because 
the clerk of this house, the mere clerk, 
whom we create, whom we employ, and 
whose existence depends upon our will, 
usurps the throne, and sets us, the repre- 
sentatives, the vicegerents of the whole 
American people, at defiance, and holds us 
in contempt ! And what is this clerk of 
yours ? Is he to control the destinies of 
sixteen millions of freemen ? Is he to 
suspend, by his mere negative, the func- 
tions of government, and put an end to 
this congress ? He refuses to call the 
roll ! It is in your power to compel him 
to call it, if he will not do it voluntarily." 

Here he was interrupted by a member, 
who said that he was authorized to say 
that compulsion could not reach the clerk, 
who had avowed that he would resign, 
rather than call the state of New Jersey. 

"Well, sir," continued Mr. Adams, 
"then let him resign, and we may possibly 
discover some way by which we can get 
along, without the aid of his all-powerful 
talent, learning, and genius. If we cannot 
organize in any other way — if this clerk 
of yours will not consent to our discharg- 
ing the trusts confided to us by our con- 
stituents, then let us imitate the example 
of the Virginia House of Burgesses, which, 
when the colonial governor, Dinwiddle, 
ordered it to disperse, refused to obey the 
imperious and insulting mandate, and, like 
men " 

The multitude could not contain or 
repress their enthusiasm any longer, but 
saluted tlie eloquent and indignant speaker, 
and intercepted him with loud and deaf- 
ening cheers, which seemed to shake the 
capitol to its center. The very Genii of 
applause and enthusiasm seemed to float 
in tlie atmosphere of the hall, and every 
heart expanded with indescribable pride 
and exultation. The turmoil, the dark- 
ness, the very chaos of anarchy, which had 
for successive days, pervaded the American 
congress, was dispelled by the magic, the 
talismanic eloquence of a single man ; and. 



once more, the wheels of government and 
of legislation were put in motion. 

Having, by this powerful appeal, brought 
the yet unorganized assembly to a percep- 
tion of its real position, he submitted a 
motion requiring the acting clerk to pro- 
ceed in calling the roll. This and similar 
motions had already been made bj* other 
members. The difficulty, indeed, was just 
this, that the clerk declined to entertain 
them. Accordingly, Mr. Adams was 
immediately interrupted by a burst of 
voices demanding, " How shall the ques- 
tion be put ? " " Who will put the ques- 
tion ? " The voice of Mr. Adams was 
heard above all the tumult, " / intend to 
put the question myself! " That word 
brought order out of chaos. There was 
the master mind. 

As soon as the multitude had recovered 
itself, and the excitement of long and loud 
resounding plaudits had abated, Mr. 
Richard Barnwell Rhett, of South Caro- 
lina, leaped upon one of the desks, waved 
his hand, and exclaimed : 

" I move that the Honorable John 
Quincy Adams take the chair of the 
speaker of this house, and ofiiciate as pre- 
siding officer, till the house be organized 
by the election of its constitutional officers ! 
As many as are agreed to this will say ay ; 
those " 

He had not an opportunity to complete 
the sentence, " those who are not agreed 
will say no," — for one universal, deafen- 
ing, tremendous ay, responded to the 
nomination. 

Hereupon, it was moved and ordered 
that Hons. Lewis Williams, of North 
Carolina, and Richard Barnwell Rhett, 
conduct John Quincy Adams to the chair. 
And well did Mr. Wise, of Virginia, say 
to him : 

" Sir, I regard it as the proudest hour 
of your life ; and if, when you shall be 
gathered to your fathers, I were asked to 
select the \vords which, in my judgment, 
are best calculated to give at once the 
character of the man, I would inscribe 
upon your tomb this sentence : / intend 
to imt the quest io7i myself." 



372 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



The brave old man lived not only to 
see the odious '"gag rule" rescinded, but to 
listen to that magnificent speech from one 
of his colleagues, Dr. Palfrey, on the 
" inalienable rights of man," at the con- 
clusion of which, Mr. Adams characteris- 
tically exclaimed, "God be praised; the 
seals are broken ; the door is open ! " 

Dying in his country's capitol, in the 
midst of his public duties, in February, 
1848, his illustrious career shone brightly 
to the end. As secretarj' of state under 
Mr. Monroe, and subsequently as presi- 



dent, his cabinet and other political asso- 
ciates consisted of such eminent statesmen 
as Crawford, Shelby, Crowninshicld, 
Thompson, Southard, !Meigs, McLean, 
Rush, Wirt, Barbour, Porter, Van Renssel- 
aer ; nor was his political ability hardly less 
appreciated by those master leaders in the 
ranks of his opponents. A whole nation 
dejjlored the loss and united in rendering 
homage to the memory of the fearless 
" champion of the right of petition." His 
successor in congress was Hon. Horace 
ilann, a kindred spirit. 



XLI. 

PASSAGE OF BENTON'S FAMOUS "EXPUNGING RESO- 
LUTION," IN THE U. 8. SENATE, AFTER A THREE 
YEARS PARLIAMENTARY STRUGGLE.— 1837. 



Vindication of President Jackson Against tlie Condemnatory Sentence Passed by tliat Body in 1834, 
for his Removal of the Government Deposites. — Strong Black Lines are Drawn Around Said Sen- 
tence, by the Secretary, in the Presence of tlie Senate and of a Vast and Tumultuous Crowd, at Mid- 
night — Opposition to the United States Bank. — Jackson's Message Against It — Public Oi)inion 
Divided — Congress Grants a Charter. — Presidential Veto of this Bill — Jackson Denounces the 
Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt — Orders the United States Funds Hemnved. — Secretary Duane 
Declines to Act. — Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys. — Fierce Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Stormy 
Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jackson. — Resolution to this Eflfect Passed. — Benton's Motion to 
F..\punge.— He Follows it up Unceasingly. — His Consummate Tact. — Approach of the Decisive 
Hour. — Excited Crowds Pour In. — Triumph of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Resolve. — 
Strange and Impressive Scene. 



" No pnwer on earth— so help me God I— ahall control the key to the Nation's funds, but the United States Government itaelL"— Presi- 
dent JACK30.V. 




remark concerning the celelirateJ parlia- 
iiifiitary feat accomplislieil in the pa.ssage 
of tlie "Expunging Eesolution," hy the 
United States Senate, could more appro- 
priately descril)e the chief actor in that 
proceeding, than the pregnant sentence 
written by Senator Benton's biographer, 
namely, that as an exhibition of many 
especial traits of that senator's character — 
persistency, keen and sagacious insight, 
stubborn devotion to the fame of his party 
chief, unquailing courage, and confidence of 
success against any and all odds, — no act of his life was more striking. As is very 
well known, the mover in this exciting measure. Senator Benton, naturally' made him- 
self peculiarly obnoxious to his political opponents, but he finally achieved success, 
and gained a great personal triumph. The motion was, to strike from the journals of 
the senate a resolution of censure passed upon General Jackson, March twenty-eighth, 
1834, during the second term of his presidency, and the passion of partisans clothed 
the contest with a violence which shook the whole country. 

The history of this remarkable and deeply interesting affair runs as follows : In his 
message to congress. President Jackson expressed an opinion against renewing the 



SATE PLACE FOR THE KEV TO THE PUBLIC FCTfOS 



374 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



charter of the United States l)aiik, wliidi 
would cxjiire in 183G. The hank liad not 
yet formally applied for such renewal, but, 
being thus pressed upon the attention of 
congress, it was referre<l to the committee 
on finance in both houses for examina- 
tion; and on the thirtieth of April, 1830, 
Mr. McDuffie, of the house, made a report 
on the subject, taking ground directly at 
variance with the views of the president, 
arguing that Washington sanctioned and 
signed its original charter, tliat it had 
fulfilled the ends for which it was estab- 
lislied, and that espediencj' and a regard 
for tiie public interest would dictate its 
continuance. Tlie report in the senate 
concurred with these sentiments. Such 
was the effect pro(luce<l by these reports, 
that the shares of the bank, whicli, under 
tlie effect of the message, liad greatly 
faUcn in value, soon reached tlie verj' 
highest figure. 

As early as 1832, a memorial was pre- 
sented to congress by the president and 
directors of the bank for a renewal of its 
charter. Soon iifter, a committee was ap- 
pointed to investigate the proceedings of 
the bank. A majority of this committee 
reported against the bank, princijially 
on the ground of a violation of its char- 
ter by illegal transactions ; a minority 
report, however, declared that the affairs 
of the bank liad been administered by Mr. 
Biddle and the directors, with very great 
ability, and with perfect fidelity to every 
obligation ; and tliut, being an institution 
indispensable to tlie preservation of a 
sound currency, and to the financial opera- 
tions of the government, its downfall 
would be a great national calamitj-. 

On the tenth of June, the senate pas.sed 
a bill, by eight majority, favoring the 
bank, and, shortly after, the house con- 
curred by a majority of twenty-two. This 
bill was vetoed b}- the president, who de- 
clared it unauthorized by the constitution, 
subversive of the rights of the states, and 
dangerous to the liberties of the people. 
This veto, though not unexpected to the 
country-, was bitterly denounced from one 
end of the Union to the other, as an act 



pregnant with fearful ami ap]>alling woes. 
Such, too, was the political complexion of 
congress, at this period, that it was impos- 
sible to obtain anything like the two-thirds 
vote requisite to pass a bill over the presi- 
dential veto. 

The conflict of ojiinion in regard to the 
bank, — an institution whose existence and 
operations naturally affected, for good or 
ill, every branch of industry, commerce, 
agriculture, and manufactures, throughout 
the country, — continued, and with in- 
creased intensity. All kinds of business 
had, by means of the vast loans so freely 
obtained from the bank, in larger or 
smaller sums, by speculators, become 
greatly inflated, and especiall}* was this 
the case with stocks. Jackson, viewing 
the bank as, in this respect, an unhealthy 
corporation, and capable, in its dispensa- 
tion of favors, of being a dangerous jiolit- 
ical engine, determined to crijiple and 
crush it, and, as an effectual measure to 
this end, he iilanned the withdrai\-al from 
the bank, of those funds belonging to the 
government, of which the bank, according 
to its charter, was the legal depositor^-. 
During the recess of congress, namely, on 
the eighteenth of September, 1S33, the 
president read to the cabinet a document 
advocating and advising a speedy removal 
of the jmblic treasure deposited with the 
United State* bank, — this treasure consti- 
tuting, as was well understood, the basis 
of the bank's credit and operations. 

Ill the document read by the president, 
on this occasion, he begged the cabinet 
to i-onsider the measure as /lis oirii, and 
in support of which he should require no 
one of them to make a sacrifice of opinion 
or principle. Its responsibility, he assured 
them, had been assumed by him, after the 
most mature deliberation and reflection, as 
necessary to preserve the morals of the 
people, the freedom of the press, and the 
purity of the elective franchise. !Mr. 
Duane, at this time secretary- of the 
treasury, disapproved of the proposed re- 
moval of the deposites, whereupon he was 
dismissed from that position, and his jilace 
supplied by Roger B. Taney, who at once 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



375 



executed the presidential order. The 
president emphatically declared : "No 
power on earth — so lieli) me God! — shall 
control the key to the nation's funds, 
but the United States government itself ! " 

Mr. Clay's indignant, burning eloquence, 
denunciatory of the acts of the executive, 
knew no bounds, and he concluded bj^ 
offering resolatlons of censure against the 
president, which, after a most storm)/ de- 
bute, jiassed tite senate, in a slighthj altered 
form, on the twanty-eirjhth of Murcli, 1834, 
namely : " That the president, in the late 
executive proceedings in relation to the 
revenue, has assumed upon himself au- 
thority and power not conferred by the 
constitution and laws, but in derogation of 
both " Against this resolution, President 
Jackson sent in a long and severe protest. 
To this the senate responded, by resolu- 
tions declaring that the protest was a 
breach of the privileges of the senate, and 
that it should not be entered upon the 
journal. The house of representatives, 
however, sustained the president, in his 
opposition to the bank, and the removal 
of the deposites. Memorials and peti- 
tions, for or against the measures of the 
president, flowed in from all quarters. It 
was considered as momentous an issue as 
had ever agitated the land. 

The president's wrath was unmeasured, 
that the resolutions of censure, in sub- 
stance declaring him guilty of an impeach- 
able offense, should thus be spread upon 
the legislative journal. Mr. Benton, the 
most powerful friend of the president, 
lost no time in giving notice of his inten- 
tion to move a strong measure in behalf 
of the president, namely, an ExpuiKjing 
Resolution against the sentence of cen- 
sure passed and recorded by the senate, 
committing himself irrevocably to the 
prosecution of the resolution, until he 
should succeed in the effort, or terminate 
his political life. 

In support of the president's course, and 
of Mr. Benton's proposed method of vin- 
dication, various public proceedings were 
had in different sections of the countrj', 
and some of the state legislatures not 



only voted in favor of the removal of the 
record of censure, but instructed their con- 
gressional delegations to use their influence 
and votes in a similar direction. 

Mr. Benton's resolutions rehearsed the 
principal points involved in the past his- 
tory and present aspects of the contro- 
versy, quite at length, the closing resolu- 
tion being as follows : " That the said 
resolve be expunged from the journal ; 
and, for that purpose, that the secretary 
of the senate, at such time as the senate 
may appoint, shall bring the manuscript 
journal of the session 1833-34 into the 
senate, and, in the presence of the senate, 
draw black lines round the said resolve, 
and write across the face thereof, in strong 
letters, the following words: 'Expunged 




by order of the senate, this day of 

, in the year of our Lord .'" 

For three years, successively, did Mr. 
Benton bring forward, on different oc- 
casions, his celebrated motion, and again 
and again he suffered defeat, after the 
most violent and scathing debates that 
ever took place in anj' parliamentary body, 
the senate at this time containing an 
unusual amount of oratorical talent and 
forensic power. 

But the last scene — and with it victory 
to the great Missourian and his presiden- 
tial master, — was now near at hand ; and 



Ol 



6 



OUR FIRST CENTUR v.— 1770-187(5. 



this scene, as described, mainly, 1>3' Mr. 
Benton himself, was as follows : Saturday, 
the fourteenth of January, the democratic 
senators agreed to have .1 meeting, and to 
take their final mea.sures for passing the 
expunging resolution. They knew they 
had the numbers; but they also knew 
they had adversaries to grapple with to 
whom might be applied the proud motto 
of Louis the Fourteenth : " Not an un- 
equal match for numbers." They also 
knew that members of the party were in 
tlie process of separating from it, and 
wiiulil require coiiciliating. They met in 
file night at the tlieii famous restaurant of 
Houlanger, giving to the assemblage the 
air of a convivial cntcrtainnient. It con- 
tiniu'd till niidiiight, and ri'<piired all the 
moderation, tai't and sl;ill of the prime 
movers to ol)tain and maintain the union 
upon details, on the success of which the 
fate of the measure depended. The men 
of conciliation were to be the efBcient men 
of that night ; and all the winning re- 
sources of Wright, Allen of Ohio, and 
Linn of Missouri, were put into requisi- 
tion. There were serious differences upon 
the mode of exi)urgation, while agreed 
ui)on llie thing; and finally obliteration, 
the favorite of the mover, was given up, 
and the mode of ex|)urgation adojifed 
wliicli had been proposed in the resolu- 
tions of the general assembly of Virginia, 
inunely, to inclose the obnoxious sentence 
in a square of black lines — an oblong 
square : a compromise of opinions to which 
the mover agreed upon condition of being 
allowed to compose the epitaph — " Ex- 
j)if Ill/I'd III/ //le order nf the Si'iinfr." The 
agreement which was to lead to victory 
was then adopted, eaih one severally 
jiledging himself to it, that there should 
should be no adjournment of the senate 
after the resolution was called until it 
was passed ; anil that it should be called 
immediately after the morning business 
on the Monday ensuing. Expecting a 
protracted session, extending through the 
day and night, and knowing the difliculfy 
of keeping men steady to their work and 
in good humor, when tired and hungry. 



the mover of the proceeding took_ care to 
provide, as far as possible, against such a 
state of things; and gave orders that 
night to have an ample supi)ly of cold 
liams, turkeys, rounds of beef, pickles, 
wines, and cups of hot coffee, rea<ly in a 
certain committee room near the senate 
chamber by four o'clock on the afternoon 
of Monday. 

The motion to take up the subject was 
made at the api)oinfed time, and imme- 
diately a debate of long speeches, chiefly 
on the other side, opened itself upon the 
question. 

As the darkness of approaching night 
came on, and the great chandelier was lit 
up, splendidly illuminating the chandjer, 
then crowded with the nuMubers of the 
house, and the lobbies and galleries filled 
to their utmost capacity with visitors and 
spectators, the scene became grand and 
impressive. A few spoke on the side of 
the resolution — chiefl_v Rives, Buchanan, 
Niles — and, with an air of ease and satisfac- 
tion that bespoke a quiet determination, 
and a consciousness of victory. The com- 
mittee room was resorted to in parties of 
four and six at a time, always leaving 
enough on watch ; and not resorted to by 
one side alone. The opposition were in- 
vited to a full |>artici[)ation — an invitation 
of which those who were able to maintain 
their good temjier readily availed them- 
selves; but the greater part were not in a 
humor to eat anything — esi)ecially at such 
a feast. 

The night was wearing away; the ex- 
pungers were in fidl force — masters of the 
chamber — ha|>])V — and visibly determined 
to remain. It became evident to the 
great opposition leaders, that the inevit-. 
able hour had come ; that the ' damnable 
deed ' was to be done that night ; and that 
the dignity of silence was no longer to 
them a tenable position. The l)attle was 
going against then), and they must go into 
it, without being able to re-establish it. 
In the beginning, they had not considered 
the expunging movement a serious pro- 
ceeding; as it advanced, they still ex- 
pected it to miscarry on some point ; now. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



377 



the reality of the thing stood before them, 
confronting their presence, and refusing 
to " down " at anj- command. 

Mr. Callioun opposed the measure, in a 
speech of great severity. The day (said 
he) is gone ; night approaclies, and niglit 
is suitable to the dark deed we meditate ; 
there is a sort of destiny in this thing ; 
the act must be performed, and it is an 
act ivhicli irill tell upon the i^olitical his- 
tory of tills country forever. 

Mr. Clay indulged in unmeasured de- 
nunciation of the whole thing. 

The last speech in opposition to the 
measure was made by Mr. Webster, who 
employed the strongest language he could 



was there. Expectation, and determina- 
tion to see the conclusion, were depicted 
upon every countenance. It was evident 
there was to be no adjournment until the 
vote should be taken — until the deed was 
done ; and this aspect of invincible deter- 
mination had its effect upon the ranks of 
the opposition. The^' began to falter 
under a useless persistence, for thej' alone 
now did the speaking; and while Mr. 
Webster was yet reciting his protest, two 
senators from the opposition side, who had 
been best able to maintain their equanim- 
ity, came round to the mover of the 
resolution, and said : ' This question has 
deffenerated into a trial of nerves and 








--^i^^t^ 









FAC-SIMILE COP%" OP THE 

command, condemnatory of an act, which, 
he declared, was so unconstitutional, so 
deror/Ktnry to the rhararter of the senate, 
and marked with so broad an impression of 
compliance with power. 

But, though thus pronounced an irregu- 
lar and unconstitutional proceeding, by 
Mr. Webster and the other senators with 
whom he sided and voted, Mr. John 
Quincy Adams, who was at the time a 
member of the house, and in direct antag- 
oilism, politically, to Mr. Benton and to the 
Jackson administration, held a different 
opinion. 

Midnight (says Mr. Benton, in con- 
tinuing his account,) was now approach- 
ing. The dense masses which filled every 
inch of room in the lobbies and the gal- 
leries, remained immovable. No one 
went out ; no one could get in. The floor 
of the senate was crammed with privileged 
persons, and it seemed that all congress 



EXPUKGIXG RESOLUTION. 

muscles. It has become a question of 
physical endurance ; and we see no use in 
wearing ourselves out to keep off for a few 
hours longer what has to come before we 
separate. We see that _you are able and 
determined to carry your measure — so, 
call the vote as soon as you please. We 
shall say no more. ]\Ir. Webster con- 
cluded. No one rose. There was a pause, 
a dead silence, and an intense feeling. 
Presentl}- the silence was invaded by the 
single word, "question" — the parliament- 
ary call for a vote — rising from the seats 
of different senators. One blank in the re- 
solve remained to be filled — the date of its 
adoption. It was done. The acting presi- 
dent of the senate, Mr. King, of Alabama, 
then directed the roll to be called. The 
yeas and nays had been previously ordered, 
and proceeded to be called by the secretary 
of the senate, the result showing a majority 
of five on the side of the expungers. 



Ol 



8 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



The passage of the resolution was an- 
nounced from the chair. Mr. Benton rose, 
and said that nothing now remained but 
to execute the order of the senate, which lie 
moved be done forthwith. It was ordered 
accordingly. The secretary thereupon pro- 
duced the original manuscript journal of 
the senate, and opening at the page which 
contained the condemnatory sentence of 
March twent3'-eighth, 1834, proceeded in 
open senate to draw a square of broad 
black lines around the sentence, and to 
write across its face in strong letters 
these words : 

"Expunged by order of the sen- 
ate, THIS 16th day of March, 1837." 

Up to this moment, the crowd in the 
great circular gallery, looking down upon 
the senate, though sullen and menacing in 
their looks, had made no manifestation of 
feeling. Things were in this state when 
the secretary of the senate began to per- 



form the expunging process. Instantly 
a storm of hisses, groans, and vociferations 
arose from the left wing of the gallery, 
over the hoatl of Mr. Benton. Anticipat- 
ing the possibility of violence, some of the 
senator's friends had gone out and brought 
(inns into the hall. No use, however, was 
made of them, the mob being intimidated 
by one of the ringleaders being seized by 
the sergeant-at-arms an<l brought to the 
bar of the senate ; and tlie exiiuiiging 
process was performed in (juiet. The 
gratification of General Jackson was ex- 
treme. He gave a grand dinner to the 
expungevs and their wives; being, how- 
ever, too weak to sit at the table, he only 
met the company, placed the ' head ex- 
punger' in the chair, and withdrew to his 
sick chamber. That expurgation ( re- 
marks Mr. Benton,) was the crowning 
glory of Jackson's civil, as New Orleans 
had been of his military, life. 



XLII. 

MAGNIFICENT AURORA BOREALIS ENCOMPASSING 

THE WHOLE FIRMAMENT TO ITS FARTHEST 

BOUNDS.— 1837. 



A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson Flames Encircles the Earth — Arclies of Resplendent Auroral 
Glories Span the Hemisphere — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty Rise from the 
Horizon to the Zenitli — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an AstonisheJ World, as if 
Dyed in Blood — Unjommon Extent and Sublimity — Remarkable Duration and Aspects — Intensely 
Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. — Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of 
the Phenomenon. — Exquisite Rosy Illumination — The Snow Appears Deep Red. — A Fiery Vermil- 
ion Tinge to Nature — Alarm Produced by the Scene. — Great Moving Pillar of Light. — Vivid Stream- 
ers in All Directions. — Pure White and Brilliant Colors. — Contrast of the Glowing Tints. — Wide 
Fields of Rainbow Hues. — Kadiant Beauty Heaven-Wide — Superlative Pageant of Splendor. — Perfec- 
tion of the Stellar Form. — Millions of Wondering Observers — Visible Nearly the Whole Night. — 
Accounts from Different Points. — Europe's Share in the Display. 



" Depth, bright, hreadlh. 

Are Inet in tlicir exlrcmee: and where to count 
The thick sown Elories in these fields of fire, 
Perhaps a seraph's computation fuils." 




SINGULAR FORM OF AURORAL ARCH. 



'EARS of observation, covering many cen- 
^ turies, and embracing all zones and lati- 
tudes, give no record of any di.si)lay of 
auroral glories equal, in sublimity, mag- 
nificence, and extent, to the aurora borealis of 
November fourteenth, 1837. Of the various 
accounts of this phenomenon, as furnished by 
observers in different parts of the land, the fol- 
lowing will suffice to show its marvelous beauty 
and grandeur, — remarkable for its amplitude, its 
duration, its intense luminosity, and the brilliancy of its colors. Scientific observations 
of the phenomenon were made by Professors Barnard, Herrick, Twining, Joslin, Silli- 
man, Gibbs, Henry, Dewey, Redfield, and others, and these were republished in all 
parts of Europe, attracting universal attention. 

The city of jSTew Haven had been visited, during the day of the fourteenth, with a 
moderate storm of snow, which began to subside between the hours of five and six in 
the evening. The heavens continued, however, to be more or less obscured by clouds 
during the entire evening; on which account, the splendors of the' aurora, as they man- 
ifested themselves to observers more favorably situated, were here in a great degree 
concealed. The veil of snow-clouds, which, at sunset, and for some time afterward, 
covered the sky, was nevertheless exceedingly thin ; and it was through this, and even 



380 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1870. 



through the falling snow itself, that the 
first visible indications of the presence of 
an aurora were discovered. Though the 
exact time at whirh the phenomenon com- 
menced could not be known, it had doubt- 
less been in progress for a while, before the 
intensity of the light became sufficient to 
penetrate the screen. The first evidence 
of its existence consisted in a strong rosy 
illumination of the entire arch of the 
heavens. 

Of this appearance, Professor Olmstead, 
then of Xew Haven, says : The snow, 
which at sunset had covered the earth and 
all things near it, with a mantle of the 
purest white, closed, early in the evening, 
■with a most curious and beautiful pageant. 
About six o'clock, while the sky was yet 
thick with falling snow, all things sud- 
denly appeared as if dyed in blood. The 
entire atmospliere, the surface of the earth, 
the trees, the toi^s of the houses, and, in 
short, the whole face of nature, were 
tinged with the same scarlet hue. The 
alarm of fire was given, and the vigilant 
firemen were seen parading the streets in 
their ghostly uniform, which, assuming the 
general tint, seemed in singular keeping 
with the phenomenon. The light was 
most intense in the north-west and north- 
east. At short intervals it alternately- 
increased and diminished in brightness, 
until, at half-past six, only a slight tinge 
of red remained on the skj-. On account 
of the light l)eing thus transmitted through 
the snowy medium and a thin veil of clouds, 
the aurora borealis was diffused like the 
light of an astral lamp, covered with a 
red shade of ground glass. That the 
stratum of clouds was very thin, was 
inferred from the fact, that, before half- 
past six, a few stars were discernible as 
when seen through a fog ; and such was 
the appearance of the moon, which rose 
about the same time. Within ten minutes 
from the time the heavens began to assume 
their fiery appearance, the whole clouded 
hemisphere shone with that marvelously 
brilliant light, -which, reflected in rosy 
tints by the snow on the ground, produced 
a scene indescribably gorgeous. To some 



observers, the auroral flush seemed to over- 
spread all parts of the sky almost simul- 
taneously. 

East of New Haven, the storm was more 
protracted. At New London, the snow 
was falling copiously, and continued so, 
unabatedly, during the whole evening. 
But, notwithstanding the storm, the heav- 
ens seemed as if they were on fire, — a 
lurid light on all sides, from the zenith to 
the horizon, casting a most vulcanean hue 
on the fallen snow. The light seemed the 
same in every portion of the firmament, 
but without anj- apparent cause. 

In the cit3' of New York, the disjilaj-, 
as witnessed from an eminence which com- 
manded an unobstructed view of the hori- 
zon in every direction, was, in the latter 
part of the evening, magnificent beyond 
description. At about a quarter before 
six, the attention of observers was at- 
tracted by a most unusual aiipcarance of 
the heavens. The sky was wholly ovei> 
cast, as in New Haven, at the same hour; 
though the cloud was not sufficiently 
dense, absolutely to obscure all the stars, 
of which quite a number were seen from 
time to time, faintly glimmering through. 
At the time of the first observation, the 
whole heaven was suffused with a lovely 
carnation, brightest, ajiparently, at the 
commencement in the zenith, but soon 
afterward rather toward the north-east. 
This tint, reflected on the snow, clothed 
all nature with a red-tinted garniture, of 
supernal beauty. It gradually faded, 
though at the end of an hour it was still 
slightly perceptible. The sky then rap- 
idly- cleared, and all traces of the aurora 
passed away. 

But at about half-past seven, the north 
and east being still overcast, and some 
stratified clouds extending themselves 
along the horizon around toward the west, 
a brightness began to ajipear in the north- 
west, which, in a very short time, extended 
itself upward forty-five degrees, in a col- 
umn of diffused light, quite broad at the 
base, and tapering to a point. This col- 
umn moved very slowly southward, and at 
length became divided into two of similar 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE E^^ENTS. 



581 




MAGUIFICEXT AUKOKA BOREALIS OF NOVEMDEK 13 AND 14, 1837. 



character. But in the meantime, in all 
the north, and especially in the north-west, 
numerous streamers began to make their 
appearance. They became faintly red at 
the height of about tliirtj' degrees, and the 
redness of the whole blended itself into one 
general cloud, while the columns continued 
distinct and white below. The changes 
were rapid, but the red tint covered the 
heavens nearlj- to the zenith for a long 
time. The moon, emerging from the 
clouds, a little before eight, detracted 
from the brightness of the display. The 
whole subsided, or nearly so, shortly after 
eight, and observations were discontinued. 
A few minutes before nine, however, 
the community was summoned to witness 
a new exhibition of auroral wonders, the 
lustrous grandeur of which no tongue could 
tell, nor pen portray. The heavens were 
at this time wholly unclouded, with the 
exception of a single very small and faint 
cirrus high in the north-west. Innumer- 
able bright arches shot up from the whole 
northern semi-circle of the horizon, and 
from even farther south, all converging to 
the zenith with great rapidity. Their 
upper extremities were of the most bril- 



liant scarlet, while below they were ex- 
ceedingly white. At the formation of the 
corona, the appearance of the columns 
below, which were very numerous and 
bright, resembled that of bright cotton of 
long fiber, drawn out at full length. The 
intermingled hues afforded each other a 
mutual strong relief, and exhibited the 
most dazzling contrasts ever beheld. The 
stellar form was wonderfully perfect and 
regular. Toward the west, there was a 
sector of more than twenty degrees of 
unmingled scarlet, superlatively beautiful. 

The duration of this display was quite 
remarkable. For three-quarters of an 
hour after its formation, which took place 
about nine o'clock, the corona continued, 
with variable brightness, to maintain its 
position a little to the south of the zenith. 
At about half-past nine, the northern col- 
umns had become disconnected from it, 
and had subsided very low, the heavens 
being clear between. But long before this, 
and,, indeed, within a few minutes after 
nine, the south was as completely filled 
with corresponding columns as the north. 

For a time, therefore, the earth was 
completely overarched by a perfect canopy 



382 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



of glory! The southern columns, which 
seemed to in-oceed downward from the 
corona, rested on an arcli of diffused light, 
extending in a great circle from east to 
west, or nearly so, and being about twenty 
degrees, or a little more, above the hori- 
zon, in the center. Al\ below the arch 
was of the strange darkness so usual at 
such times in the north. The southern 
columns wore at no time so bright as the 
northern, but they maintained their posi- 
tion, after these last had retired, — extend- 
ing still from the corona to the arch which 
formed their base. The appearance was 
at this time that of an aurora australis, 
and this continued for more than a quarter 
of an hour. Streamers, for a while, con- 
tinued to shoot up irregularly in the north, 
but they did not again reach the zenith. 
By half-past ten, all evidence of the phe- 
nomenon disappeared from the heavens, 
and the hosts of charmed observers reluc- 
tantly abandoned their watch. 

In the western part of New York state, 
the exhibition was most superb, as seen 
and described at various points of observa- 
tion. In Huffalo and neigliborliood, the 
aurora was perceived at its first approach. 
At about quart('r-i)ast five o'clock, the 
heavens being clear in the north and for 
fifty degrees both east and west of that 
point, an unusual ruddy appearance was 
noticed. This soon faded, leaving barely 
a perceptible tinge ; and instantly, when 
nearly all color had disappeared elsewhere, 
a space of some fifteen degrees in diame- 
ter, immediately west of Cassiopeia and 
Andromeda, and north of Pegasus, was 
liglited up with red, of a particularly deep 
hue. This was entirely disconnected, on 
every side, from any auroral light or 
appearance whatever, and, from its center, 
pencils of white radiated to the periphery 
on every side. 

After this appearance had continued 
some five minutes, the white lines disa|>- 
peared, and the wliole sjjace in question 
assumed a uniform red color, which was 
almost instantly thereafter extended, in 
an arch of the same wi<lth, through the 
zenitli. and down to the horizon about 



sixty degrees west of north. On the east, 
this light did not extend itself j and, 
daring the whole time, the clear space 
existing in the north retained its usual 
color and appearance. Deep red streams, 
penciled with white, then began to ajijjear 
and fade in the north, but without the 
tremulous motion of ' merry dancers.' 
Those in the north-east maintained their 
brightness longest. 

At about fifteen minutes before six 
o'clock, the clouds had become more dense 
and dark, though still in detached masses, 
particularly throughout that portion of the 
heavens which had been occupied by the 
red arch above mentioned, and tliese 
isolated clouds now assumed an appearance 
at once novel and striking. Those west 
of the zenith, and lying within the track 
of the crimson arch already described, 
suddenly exhibited the most vivid red 
along their entire southern borders ; while 
the like clouds east of the zenith, and fol- 
lowing the same track, and prolonging it 
quite down to the eastern horizon, assumed 
the same vivid color upon their northern 
borders; no other portion, however, of 
these clouds, exliibited any of the charac- 
teristics of auroral light. South of this 
line, there was at no time any auroral 
light whatever; and at the moment in 
question, there was very little in any other 
parts of the heavens, save on the borders 
of these clouds. At nine minutes before 
six, the red edgings of these clouds began 
to fade, and immediately a wide space in 
the north-east, that was still free from 
clouds, was most brilliantly lighted up. 
The color was of the same deep red, but it 
di<l not extend down to the horizon ; and 
this had scarcely continued four minutes, 
when the whole region north of the zenith, 
to within about eight degrees of the hori- 
zon, was again reddened and glowing — 
while, beyond these limits, either north or 
south, no vestige of the aurora was visible. 
Just two minutes before six, the moon 
appeared above the horizon, and as it was 
only two days past the full, its beams soon 
surpassed in brightness those of the 
aurora. 



GREAT A^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



383 



In Hudson, Ohio, at the Western 
Reserve College, some of the earlier dis- 
plays of the phenomenon were noticed by 
Professor Loomis. This was some five 
minutes after six, when he observed that 
a small pile of light, of a reddish hue, la^' 
upon the horizon, in a direction a little 
north of north-west, and a similar pile in 
the east of north-east. Between these 
there was a low faint cloud, bounded by a 
somewhat ill-defined arch, rising in its 
center about ten degrees from the horizon. 
Above this arch, a diffused light streamed 
upward toward the zenith, in one or two 
places, being somewhat more condensed, 
forming beams. This light increased 
rapidly in brightness ; it became of a more 
decided crimson color, extended up to the 
zenith, and, at the same time, light began 
to shoot up from several points in the east, 
and some^vhat south of east. At a quarter- 
past six, meantime, a pretty regular arch 
was formed, extending from the above- 
mentioned pile of light in the north-west. 
This arch was rather irregular in its out- 
line, and liad a slightly crimson color. In 
about five minutes, another arch of white 
light partially formed in the southern sky, 
and had nearly the same direction with 
the preceding ; but this arch was never 
complete, and soon vanished entirely. The 
great arch, however, before described, 
brightened up again in very nearly the 
same position as previously'. About half- 
past eight, light of a crimson color was 
observed to shoot from the eastern horizon 
toward and beyond the zenith, nearly in 
. the position of the former arch. The 
heavens were now nearly covered with thin 
cirro-cumulus clouds, and the contrast of 
the ordinary clouds with this crimson 
auroral light, produced a very singular 
effect. The sky remained cloudy during 
the night. 

Strange though it may appear, this 
beautiful and magnificent phenomenon 
was visible during nearly the whole night 
in the neighborhood of St. Louis, Mo., 
and was particularly brilliant between the 
hours of twelve and one, when the moon 
was near its zenith. Time in St. Louis 



being rather more than one hour earlier 
than in New York, this midnight display 
was contemporaneous with the latest 
return of the aurora in the longitude of 
New York ; but this, which was the least 
energetic in the latter, appears there to 
have been the most remarkable. 

The commencement of the phenomenon 
in Philadelphia was similar to that ob- 
served at New York. At a later period, 
the lights were again visible, and, between 
nine and ten o'clock, exceeded in extent 
and brilliancj', anj-thing of the kind ever 
before witnessed in that region. A broad 
field of crimson flame, stretching from 
nearly a western course, and reaching the 
eastern hemisphere, encompassed the 
heavens with a brilliant glory, of indescrib- 
able beauty and magnificence, hanging, 
as it were, suspended from the blue vault 
above, like an immense curtain over the 
earth — while, from almost every point of 
the compass, shot up rays of rich and gor- 
geous light, spreading and intermingling 
with a wavy tremulous motion, and exhib- 
iting every hue of the clearest rainbow. 
The richness, variety, and delicacy of the 
colors, were surprisingly beautiful, as was 
their prismatic brilliancy. The skj' itself 
was remarkably clear and cloudless — and 
through the celestial jihenomena, a full 
moon and innumerable stars were, all the 
while, distinctly visible. 

In Maryland, according to the observa- 
tions made at Emmettsburg, the first indi- 
cation of the aurora's approach was given 
as soon as it became dark, by the singular 
redness of the cumulo-stratus cloud.s, now 
entirelj' covering the sky. Those in the 
north, south, east and west, all partook of 
the redness, the reflection from them being 
strong enough to give a red tinge to the 
snow. The heaviest clouds retained their 
dark color in the center, but they were 
bordered with red. During the hour in 
which this state of things existed, there 
were no streamers, streaks of light, nor 
merry dancers. Indeed, where the sky 
could be seen between the clouds, there 
were no signs of an aurora, but rather a 
deep green sky. By seven, the moon 



384 



OUll FIRST CENTURY.— ITTG-ISTG. 




VIEW OF THE AURORA B0REALI8 IN ITS EARLY 8TAOE9. 



being risen, and tlie cloiuls liaving van- 
ished, nothing remained to show tliattliere 
had been any unusual oceurrence. A little 
after nine, however, the sliy lieing per- 
fectly clear, an aurora suddenly si)rang ui), 
which, for magnificence, surpassed any- 
thing of the kind ever before witnessed in 
that section. The streamers from the 
east, west, and north, converged a few 
degrees south of the zenith, forming a 
beautiful auroral crown, red as scarlet, but 
intermingled with streaks of pale lij,'lit. 
There were no merry dancers, but all lliu 
other appearances usually witnessed on 
such occasions were noticed. In little 
more than half an hour, the grand display- 
was over, for the most part. 

Observers at Annapolis, JId., describe 
the aurora there as coming on in waves, 
at about a quarter before six, and return- 
ing at seven, at eight, and at nine. The 
first arch was formed suddenly, and became 
vertical in a ver^' few minutes, from the 
first appearance of the columns at the 
north-west and south-east. It was crim- 
son, traversed by white pencils. The 
color of the light at eight o'clock was not 
red, but dusky, and formed from the north- 



west point to the jiole star, a broad column, 
which kept its jiosition fur half an hour. 
A succession of line cirrus clouds floated 
off from the lower parts of the column to 
the south. At nine o'clock, tlie recurrence 
of the crimson light was more in patches, 
and of intense brightness, accom])anied by 
cirro-cumulus clouds, which were formed 
suddenly over the whole sky, and were 
borne swiftly to the east b}' the wind. 

Near Alexandria, Va., the early dis- 
play, as seen from east soutli-east to 
west south-west, exhibited a rich orange 
red color, extending even to the zenitli, 
and covering all the heavens north of these 
points. The return occurred toward nine 
o'clock, in a lirilliaiit and fiery form. 

The a]i])earance of the aurora in South 
Carolina commenced about six o'clock, in 
the shape of a bank or store-house of auro- 
ral vapor towards the north. When first 
observed, a space of about fifteen degrees 
above the horizon was strongly marked by 
a pale white light, above which the crim- 
son hue peculiar to this phenomenon began 
to be distil cly visible. At this time, the 
greatest degree of brightness was to the 
east of north, assuming no very definite 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



385 



form, but extending about eigbt or ten 
degrees east, and reaching in height to the 
constellation of Cassiopeia's chair, the 
lower portion of which was enveloped in 
its reddening glow. The action then sub- 
sided ; but at about eight o'clock, another 
bright crimson column ascended due north, 
attaining an altitude some degrees greater 
than that of the polar star, and maintaining 
its place about half an hour. After this 
had faded away, no return was observed 
until half-past nine, when there was jier- 
ceived another broad arch of crimson light, 
ascending several degrees to the west of 
north. 

In certain sections of Georgia, the jihe- 
nomenon commenced a little after dark. 
The sky a little to the north of the star 
Capella, began to appear luminous, and a 
luminous arch was soon formed, of about 
six or eight degrees in breadth, and 
extending over to the north-western hori- 
zon, having the pole star in its highest 
point. Soon after the arch was formed, 
that part of it in the north-east horizon 
became much brighter, and somewhat 
broader than the rest ; and this luminous 
portion gradually rose, and passed on in 
the arch, its densest part culminating a 
little below the north star. It continued 
its motion to the western horizon. 

An hour and a half was occupied by the 
passage of the luminous part of the arch 
just described. It became somewhat 
fainter, after it had passed the meridian, 
and it gradually was lost to sight, begin- 
ning first to disappear in the east, so that 
not a vestige remained at nine o'clock, 



three hours from its first appearance. The 
color of the arch was that of light scarlet, 
the most luminous jjart being a little 
darker, and much more intense. Its form 
was that of a semi-circle, having for its 
base about sixty degrees of the horizon. 
It differed from the aurora in its regular 
outline, as well as its regular motion from 
east to west, and was witnessed with admir- 
ation and astonishment. 

So extensive was this magnificent celes- 
tial phenomenon, that it exhibited its won- 
derful splendors, contemporaneously, to 
the inhabitants of Europe and America, 
though the presence of clouds greatlj' 
interfered with the attractiveness and 
grandeur of the exhibition in the former. 
At half-past twelve, however, — says one of 
the observers in England, — a isatch of the 
most intense blood-red colors ever seen, 
was visible, free from the interposition of 
clouds. The whole of the sky had an 
awful appearance ; for the tinge of red 
which pervaded the whole exjianse, 
assumed, in man3^ points, from the depth 
of colors above, and the density of the 
clouds below, the dark copper tint, which 
is seen on the disk of the moon during a 
lunar eclipse. It was such a sight as fills 
the mind with wonder and awe ; and, in 
America at least, was the most marvelous 
of the kind ever known ; though that of 
August and September, 1859, proved but 
little inferior in some respects. In north- 
ern Europe, this phenomenon is quite 
frequent, and Mr. Bayard Taylor describes 
one of rare beauty which he there wit- 
nessed. 



25 



XLIII. 

EXPLORING EXPEDITION TO THE SOUTH POLE, UNDER 

COMMAND OF CAPTAIN CHARLES WILKES, 

UNITED STATES NAVY.— 1838. 



First N.ival Enterprise of the Kind Ever Undertaken Ijy the American Navj-. — The Squadron Sails 
Ninety Thousand Miles in Four Years. — Extent and Importance of the Investigations. — Discovery 
of the Great Antarctic Continent —Other Geographical, Nautical, and Scientific Results. — Selection 
of Officers and Vessels. — A Scientific Corps Organized. — Route Prescribed : Seas and Lands. — 
Enthusiastic Departure. — Arrival at Terra del Fuego. — Observations at Cape Horn. — Excursion to 
the Cordilleras. — Ascent of a Lofty Peak. — Desolation and Silence. — New Islands Discovered. — 
An Observatory Established. — The Samoan Group Examined. — Descent into an Extinct Volcano. — 
New South Wales Visited. — Extreme Southward Cruise. — View of the Ice-bound Continent. — A 
Landing Effected. — Account of this Achievement. — Experiences at Feejee. — On the Summit of 
Mauna-Loa. — Homeward Bound Tracks. — Safe Arrival. 



*' Tlie primary object of the Expedition i« to promote the ereat interesta of Commerce and Navteation : yet you are to take all occaniona 
not incompatible with the Kreat purpoiea of the undertttkiDK, to Extend tbe Bounda of ScieDce and Ftomote the Acquiaitiou of Knowledge." 

— OrflClAL iNSTltUCTIO.XS TO THE E.XPLOBBltS. 




L'lETLY r.tising the flag of his gallant little squadron, in the harbor 
of Norfolk, Va., on the eighteenth of August, 1838, the intrepid 
Wilkes, aa commander of the first maritime exploring expedition ever 
undci^dvcn by the United States government, set sail on that voyage 
of discovery to the far southern ocean and the mysterious south pole, which, occupying 
four years, sailed ninety thousand miles, nearly two thousand of which were along the 
coast of a groat Antarctic Continent never before seen by civilized man, and which was 
first discovered by Wilkes from the one hundred and fifty-eighth degree of east longi- 
tude ; — one of the numerous splendid scientific results of this grand national expedition 
The enterprise received its official ]iiogramine from Hon. James K. Paulding, secretary' 
of tlie navy under President Van Buren ; and, though it was at first organized under 
Commodore Thomas Ap Catesby Jones, he subsequently resigned. 

This expedition will always be memorable in the history of the nation, from its being 
the first fitted out by the Unitcil States for scientific objects; for, although its 
primary design was the promotion of the great interests of commerce and navigation, 
yet its conductors were explicitly directed to take all occasions, not incompatible with 
the great purpose of their undertaking, to extend the bounds of science, and promote 
the acquisition of knowledge. 

Some of the specific matters to which the attention of the expedition was par- 
ticularly called, in the official instructions, were as follows : The hydrography and 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



38/ 



geography of the various seas and coun- 
tries visited on the prescribed route, and 
all the researches connected with them, as 
well as with astronomy, terrestrial mag- 
netism, and meteorology, were confided 
exclusively to the officers of the navy, — 
the government expecting such results 
from this arrangement, as would enable 
future navigators to pass over the track 
traversed by the expedition, without fear 
and without danger. 

The leading members of the scientific 
corps were Mr. Hale, philologist ; Mr. 
Pickering, and Mr. Peale, naturalists ; Mr. 
Couthuoy, couohologist ; Mr. Dana, miner- 
alogist ; Mr. Rich, botanist ; Mr. Drayton, 
and Mr. Agate, draughtsmen ; j\Ir. Brack- 
enridge, horticulturist. 

Much enthusiasm and anxiety naturally 
prevailed, on the signal being given for 
the squadron to sail. The vessels compos- 
ing the squadron, were the sloop of war 
Vincennes, the flag-ship of the comman- 
der of the e:>fpedition ; the sloop of war 
Peacock, Lieutenant William L. Hudson ; 
the brig Porpoise, Lieutenant Cadwalader 
Ringgold ; the store-ship Relief, Lieu- 
tenant A. K. Long ; and the tenders Sea- 
Gull and Flying Fish. Every confidence 
was rei^osed in Commander Wilkes, who 
had served so creditably under Commodores 
McDouough and Stewart. 

Keeping the direction of the Gulf 
stream, the course of the expedition was 
towards Madeira ; having touched there, 
they stood to the southward, and, on the 
twenty-third of November, stood for the 
magnificent harbor of Rio Janeiro. The 
whole squadron then sailed liy the way of 
Rio Negro to Orange harbor in Terra del 
Fuego. The natives of the former, with 
whom the explorers came in contact, had 
good figures and pleasant looking coun- 
tenances, low foreheads and high cheek- 
bones, with broad faces, the lower parts 
projecting; their hair was coarse and cut 
short on the crown, leaving a narrow bor- 
der of hair hanging down; over this they 
wore a kind of cap or band of skin or 
woolen yarn. The front teeth of all of 
them were very much worn, more appar- 



ent, however, in the old than in the young. 
On one foot they wore a rude skin sandal. 
Many of the inhabitants of Terra del 
Fuego had their faces painted in red and 
black stripes, with claj', soot, and ashes. 
Their whole appearance, together with 
their inflamed and sore eyes, was filthy 
and disgusting. 

The Peteherai Indians were found to go 
entirelj' naked, with the exception of a 
small piece of seal-skin, onl}- suflicient to 
cover one shoulder, and wliicli was gen- 
erally worn on the side from which the 
wind blew, affording them some little 
shelter from its piercing influence. They 
are not more than five feet high, of 
a light copper color, which is much con- 
cealed bj' smut and dirt, particularly on 
their faces, which they mark vertically 
with charcoal. They have short faces, 
narrow foreheads, high cheek-bones, small 
and verj' black ejes, the upper ej'elids in 
the inner corner overlapping the under 
one, strongly resembling the Chinese. 
Their nose is broad and flat, with wide- 
spread nostrils, mouth large, teeth white 
and regular. The whole face is com- 
pressed. It is impossible to fancy any- 
thing in human nature more filthy. They 
are an ill-shapen, ugly race. 

On its cruise to the south, the squadron 
experienced the usual reception at Cape 
Horn — rough and stormj' weather. In 
regard to the best mode of proceeding, in 
making the passage round the cape, Cap- 
tain Wilkes expresses his belief that as 
much depends ujjon the vessel, and the 
manner in which she is navigated, as the 
route pursued, whether the cape is passed 
close to, or given a wide berth — the ob- 
ject of all being to pass it as quicklj' as 
possible. 

Arriving at Valparaiso, the explorers 
established an observatory. An excursion 
to the Cordilleras, by the scientific corps, 
was to be expected ; but, unfortunateh', 
they were not provided with the requisite 
instruments for ascertaining elevations. 
They ascended a ridge belonging to the 
main body of the Cordilleras, and at the 
height of about ten thousand feet, they 



388 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



reached the summit. Here they liad sin 
extensive view of all the line of the snowy 
peaks. That of Tupongati appeared the 
most conspicuous, altliough at a distance 
of eighty miles. Indeed, the guide him- 
self asserted that lie could see smoke 
issuing from its volcano in a faint streak, 
but it was bevond the vision iif the rest 



^^/^ 



/i>/' 



l^yL^^^^-^^ 



of the party. The peak itself from this 
view of it was quite sharp-pointed. The 
scene immediately around the explorers 
was one of grandeur and desolation, — 
mountain after mountain, separated by 
immense chasms, to the depth of thousands 
of feet, and the sides broken in the most 
fantastic forms imaginable. Nor could 
anything be more striking or impressive 
than the comjilete silence that reigned 
everywhere ; not a living thing appeared 
to their view. 

From Callao the squadron passed through 
the Paumotu group to Tahiti, visiting 
islands not before known, the ships steer- 
ing for the island of Minerva, or Cler- 
mont de Tonnorre, one of the most eastern 
of that 'Cloud of Islands,' as the name 
implies. Visits were made to other islets 
also, and their inhabitants, such as Wv- 
toohee, Otooho, Raraka, Aratica, and the 
Arutua or Rurick Islands ; but the ac- 




count of this archipelago is, of course, 
imperfect, the whole number of coral 
islands being sixty-five. Remark is made, 
however, that the landing on a coral island 
effectually does away with all precon- 
ceived notions of its beauty, and any jire- 
vious ideas formed in its favor are imme- 
diately put to flight. The verdure con- 
sists of mere patches of wiry grass, 
no fruit nor flowers, and most of the 
trees are of stunted size. 

Record is made of the discovery of 
new islands — namely, King's island, so 
denominated after the man at the mast- 
head who first discovered it ; Tai-a-ra, 
situated to the northward and west- 
ward and nigh to Raraka, which was 
:iot laid down on anj' charts ; and 
Kawahe. 

Arriving at Tahiti, the explorers lost 
no time in commencing o))erations. An 
observatory, furnished with both as- 
tronomic and magnetic instruments, 
;,^-Mvas at once established, and parties 
s-ent out for the survey of the princi- 
pal harbors and the intervening chan- 
nels. A large body of ofBcers and 
naturalists were also sent across the 
islands to visit Orohena, one of the 
higliest peaks, and Lake Waiherca. 
They could not, however, reacli the de- 
sired spot, but some daj-s afterwards Cap- 
tain Hudson, with his officers, succeeded 
in measuring the elevation of Aorai, the 
peak which is next in height to Orohena. 
This was found to be about seven thousand 
feet ; Orohena appeared to be some fifteen 
hundred feet higher. From these two 
peaks, ridges descend to all parts of the 
coast ; they are precipitous and narrow ; 
their summit being often a mere edge. 

Reaching the harbor of Papieti, the 
commander invited the great chiefs on 
board, the ship being dressed for the oc- 
casion, and every mark of respect being 
shown them. Luncheon was pre]iared, 
and, when the guests were all seated at 
it, such a collection of corpulent persons 
was rarely if ever before seen. Pre\'ious 
to eating, one of the chiefs said grace. 
They seemed heartily to enjoy the food 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



389 



and tlie occasion, and conducted them- 
selves with a propriety that surprised all 
on board. 

It having been determined to make a 
thorough examination of the group of the 
Samoan islands, Tutulia, as the most cen- 
tral, was selected for the station. The 
men of Tutulia are a remarkably tall, fine- 
looking set, with intelligent and pleasing 
countenances. In comparison with the 
Tahitians, they would be called sedate. 
The women are far from good-looking, 
with the exception of some of the younger 
ones. The}"^ are remarkably domestic and 
virtuous, exhibiting a strange contrast to 
those of Tahiti. 

Messrs. Dana and Couthuoy visited a 
lake called Lauto, which is remarkable for 
the existence of an extinct volcano, or 
crater. The edge of the crater was found 
to be two thousand five hundred and 
seventy feet above the sea, and the de- 
scent thence to the water of the lake is 
one hundred and twenty feet. These gen- 
tlemen succeeded in obtaining a line of 
soundings across the lake, by cutting 
down trees, and forming a raft of them. 
The}' found the depth, in the middle, nine 
and a half fathoms, decreasing thence 
gradually in all directions to the shore. 
The form of the lake is nearly circular, 
and it has a subterranean outlet. The 
hill in which this crater is situated is coni- 
cal, and there is a low knoll at some dis- 
tance to the south of it, which is the only 
other elevation in the neighborhood, above 
the general height of the ridge. The bor- 
der of the crater is clothed with the usual 
forest foliage of these islands, which, how- 
ever, exhibits here more than usual beauty, 
being decorated with finely-worked fronds 
of the arborescent ferns, in widely-spread 
stars, and the graceful mountain-palm 
plumes. 

In the different jaunts across the island, 
many of the ' Devil's,' or unconverted, 
towns were visited. At the town of 
Siusinga, the chief who entertained the 
party was a priest of the Gimblet religion, 
a new faith, of singular origin, its founder 
having been a native of Savaii, by name 



Seeovedi, who, having been taken from 
that island by a whaler, received, while on 
board, the nickname of Joe Gimblet. 
Embracing, in course of time, the Roman 
Catholic faith, and possessing withal much 
shrewdness, he j'lanncd to found a sect of 
his own, and pretended to work miracles. 
He gained many proselytes ; and the sect, 
in case of sickness, confess their sins to 
one another, and have a number of fast- 
days, which are rigidly kept. Their Sab- 
bath occurs only once a month, and is cel- 
ebrated by the firing of guns, and the 
puerile mummery in which their worship 
consists. 

After having surveyed and explored the 
Samoan group, the expedition proceeded 
to New South Wales. The natives of this 
country are described as a proud, high- 
tempered race, each man being independ- 
ent of his neighbor, owning no superior, 
and exacting no deference ; they have not 
in their language any word signifying a 
chief or superior, nor to command or serve. 
Each individual is the source of his own 
comforts, and the artificer of his own 
household implements and weapons; and 
but for the love of companionship, he 
might live with his family apart and 
isolated from the rest, without sacrificing 
any advantages whatever. They have an 
air of haughtiness and insolence arising 
from this independence, and nothing will 
induce them to acknowledge any human 
being as their superior, or to show any 
marks of respect. They also appear to 
have a consciousness of independence, 
which causes them, on all occasions, to 
treat even the highest with equalit}^ 
Their skin is a chocolate color ; their noses 
are not flat, nor are their lijss thick; their 
teeth white and even. 

Leaving Sidney, the last of December, 
1839, the vessels proceeded separately to 
the southward, when all reached the icy 
barrier, and three of them were rewarded 
loith a sight of the hitherto imknown 
antarctic continent, — a discovery which 
was subsequently confirmed by both 
French and English authorities. 

According to the narrative of the explor- 



390 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(;-1S7C. 



ers, it was at two o'clock on the morning 
of February tliirteentli, 1840, that they 
niaile sail to the south-west, in order to 
close with the barrier, which they found 



icebergs of tabular form. In the afternoon, 
they saw land ahead, and etood in for it, 
with a light breeze until lialf-past six, 
when it was judged to be ten or twelve 



i.mimr ■ '^'y. f 




a 



retreated in tliat ilirtilioii, and gave them 
every prospect of getting nearer to it. 
The course, for the most part, was through 



miles distant. It was viiv distinct, and 
extended from west-south-west to south- 
south-east. The longitude was one hun- 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



391 



(Ired and six degrees, forty minutes, east; 
latitude, sixty-five degrees, fifty-seven 
minutes, south. The -water was very 
gi-een ; and, tliough sounded to tliree hun- 
dred fathom.s, no bottom was found. The 
weatlier liaving an unsettled appearance, 
the expedition stood off to seek a clearer 
space for the night. Tlie land left was 
high, rounded, and covered with snow, 
resembling that first discovered, and had 
the appearance of being bound bj- perpen- 
dicular icy cliffs. 

At daylight, the next morning, sail was 
again made for the land, the vessels beat- 
ing in for it for several hours, when any 
further progress was found quite impossi- 
ble. The day was remarkably clear, and 
the land veiy distinct, — judged to be seven 
or eight miles distant. By measurement, 
the extent of the coast of the Antarctic 
Continent then in sight, was made 
to be seventy-five miles, and, by ap- 
proximate measurement, three thousand 
feet high. It was entirely covered with 
snow. On running in, they passed 
several icebergs greatly discolored with 
earth, and there being no nearer approach 
to the shore possible, it was determined 
to land on the largest ice-island access- 
ible, to make dij), intensitj', and variation 
observations. 

On coming up to the island, about a 
mile and a half from where the barrier 
had previously been encountered, the ship 
was hove to, the boats lowered, and a land- 
ing fortunately effected. There were 
found imbedded in the island, in places, 
boulders, stones, gravel, sand, and mud or 
clay. The larger specimens were of red 
sandstone and basalt. No signs of strati- 
fication were to be seen in it, but it was 
in places formed of icy conglomerate, com- 
posed of large pieces of rocks, as it were 
frozen together, and the ice was extremely 
hard and flint-like. The largest boulder 
imbedded in it was about five or six feet 
in diameter, but could not be reached, 
being situated under the shelf of the ice- 
berg. Many specimens were obtained, the 
eagerness and desire of all hands to pos- 
sess themselves of a piece of the Antarctic 



Continent being very great. These pieces 
were in great demand during the remainder 
of the cruise. 

In the center of this iceberg was found 
a pond of most delicious water, over which 
was a surface of ice about ten inches thick. 
The pond was three feet deep, extending 
over an area of an acre, and contained 
sufficient water for half a dozen ships. 
The temperature of the water was thirty- 
one degrees. This island had, undoubt- 
edly, been turned partly over, and had 
precisely the same appearance that the 
icy barrier would have exhibited if it had 
been turned bottom u}) and subsequently 
much worn by storms. There was no 
doubt that it had been detached from the 
land, which was about eight miles distant. 
The icebergs found along the coast afloat 
were from a quarter of a mile to five miles 
in length ; their separation from the land 
may be effected by severe frost rending 
them asunder, after which the violent and 
frequent storms may be considered a suffi- 
cient cause to overcome the attraction 
which holds them to the parent mass. In 
their next stage they exhibit the process 
of decay, being found fifty or sixty miles 
from the land, and for the most part with 
their surfaces inclined at a considerable 
angle to the horizon. This is caused by 
a change in the jiosition of the center of 
gravity, arising from the abrading action 
of the waves. 

Proceeding to New Zealand, the expedi- 
tion went thence to the Feejee islands, 
exploring the same very thoroughly. 
Most of the harbors in the Feejee group 
are described as mere indentations in the 
coast outline, protected by the encircling 
reefs of coral. Probably the best of them 
all is that of Le^'uka, on the east side of 
Ovolau, which is safe and easy of access 
for vessels of the largest class. The town 
is located in the midst of a grove of bread 
fruits and cocoas, whose feathery canopies 
afford a most delightful shade ; its site is 
a beautiful valley, through which courses 
a fine stream of fresh water, opening to 
the ocean, flanked on either side by ver- 
dant hills, and rising by a gradual ascent 



392 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



to the lofty peaks of basalt that bound the 
view to the west. 

The entire Feejee group comprises one 
hundred and fifty-four islands, and they 
are covered with :i luxuriant foliage to 




WILKES'S TARTV DEALUJO WITH THE SAVAGES 

their very summits, giving thoni a singu- 
larly pleasing and picturesque aspect. The 
climate is very fine, the soil rich, and 
vegetation exceedingly rapid. The natives 
are a barbarous and savage race, and to 



their cruelty it was that Lieutenant Un- 
derwood and Midshipman Henry, two of 
tlie most promising officers of the expedi- 
tion, fell mortal victims, while on shore to 
obtain provisions. For these murders, 
prompt vengeance was inflicted by Captain 
Wilkes. 

Captain Wilkes next visited the Ha- 
waiian islands, and, in the course of his 
scientific operations, ascended personally 
to the summit of Mauna-Loa, and there 
performed the difficult and imjiortant feat 
of measuring the pendulum. This moun- 
tain is nearly fourteen thousand feet high, 
with a smooth dome, crowned bj- an 
immense crater, upwards of two miles in 
diameter. 

The other places visited by the exjiedi- 
tiou, were the north-west coast of America, 
and the Columbia and Sacramento 
rivers ; they then explored portions 
of California, and, leaving San 
Francisco in the month of Novem- 
ber, 1841, went on a cruise to 
Manila, Sooloo, Borneo, Singapore, 
and the Cape of Good Hope, re- 
turning home, by way of St. He- 
lena, in June, 1842, after an ab- 
sence of about four years. The 
iiiiiuberof sketches of the different 
laces visited, made by the artists 
on board, was about five hundred, 
together with some two hundred 
portraits. Thousands of speci- 
mens of birds, animals, fishes, rep- 
tiles, insects, shells, minerals, etc., 
were also collected and brought 
home. The results of the expedi- 
tion were, in a word, such as reflected 
the highest honor upon the national 
government, under whose auspices it was 
organized, and ui)on the gallant officers 
and men to whom it was intrusted. 



XLIT. 

BREAKING OUT OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMA- 
TION.— 1840. 



Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence, and Wonderful History of the Movement. — Enthusiasm Attending the 
" Washingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Rostrum, and Sway Multitudes by 
tlieir Eloquence, — Fatlier Mathevv's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — Career of Hawkins, Mitchell, 
Gough, Dow, and Others. — First Temperance Society in the United States. — Singular Terms of 
Membership. — Social Customs in Former Times. — Unrestrained Use of Spirits. — Growing Desire for 
Reform. — Influential Men Enlisted. — Meetings, Societies, Agitation. — A Congressional Organization. 
— Origin of " Tee-Totalism." — Deacon Giles's Distillery. — " My Mother's Gold Ring." — Rise of 
" Washingtonianism." — Si.x Reformed Drunkards. — Cold Water Armies, Processions, etc. — Music, 
Banners and Badges. — Tlie Country All Ablaze — An " Apostle of Temperance." — Administering the 
Pledge. — Conflict Concerning Measures. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Taylor's Whiskey 
Jug. — Farragut's Substitute for Grog. 



" Ishall not cloae this letter without exhorting you to refrain from epirituous liquors; they will prove your ruin if you do not. Consider 
how little a drunken man differs from a beast: the latter la not endowed with reason, the former deprives himself of it."— GtNEBAL Wasu- 

IHQTOS. ' 



J ERHAPS it would be difficult to name the precise date when 
active public efforts were initiated in the United States to 
check the widespread evil of intemperance. It is not to 
be doubted, however, that the writings of that eminent 
man of science, Dr. Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia, 
especially his "Inquiry into the Effects of Ardent Spirits 
upon the Human Body and Mind," issued as early as 1804, 
did much to awaken an interest in the subject, on the part 
of the community. But not until 1808, was there any 
movement of an associated cliaracter, for public or indi- 
vidual abandonment of the use of intoxicating drinks. 

But it sounds somewhat strangely, in these later days of 
radical reform, that the initial movement referred to, and 
which was entitled " The Temperate Society of Moreau and Northumberland," (towns 
in the county of Saratoga, N. Y.) originated by Billy Clarke, should be based upon 
regulations like the following : — 

" No member shall be intoxicated, under penalty of fifty cents. No member shall 
drink rum, gin, whiskey, wine, or any distilled spirits, or compositions of the same, or 
any of them, except by the advice of a physician, or in case of actual disease (also 
e.xcepting wine at public dinners), under penalty of twenty-five cents ; provided that 
this article shall not infringe on any religious ordinance. No member shall offer any 
of said liquors to any other member, or urge any other person to drink thereof, 
under penalty of twenty-five cents for each offense." 




EFFECT or KEFORMATION. 



394 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



But the day of small beginnings, in a 
humane cause, is never to be despised, 
and, in a few j'ears, tlic reform had 
enlisted the earnest co-operation of law- 
j'ers, divines, and other eminent men, such 
as Carey. Palfrey. Iluniplirey, Dexter, 
Marsli, Edwards, Jiecchcr, I'orter, Leavitt, 
Hewit, Daj', and Kittredge. In 1813, 
there was formed the Massachusetts Soci- 
ety for the Suppression of Intemperance ; 
one in Connecticut, in 1829 ; and, in 1826, 
the Amei'ican Temperance Union. The 
statistics of this period present the calcu- 
lation, that, out of a white population of 
ten millions, between three and four mil- 
lions were habitual spirit-drinkers, of whom 
three hundred and seventy-five thousand 
drank daily on an average three gills of 
ardent spirits, while an equal number con- 
sumed more than twice that quantity, and 
of course were drunkards. Making due 
allowance for the imperfectness of such 
statistical data, it was admitted by all, 
that the intemperate use of spirituous liq- 
uors, in every part of the land, had become 
alarmingly prevalent. 

The excellent resume of this movement, 
as given by Dr. Emerson Davis, himself 
one of its ablest and most efficient sup- 
porters, states that at this time the reform 
seemed to be simultaneous through the 
country. At the beginning of 1828, the 
custom, hitherto so general, of treating 
visitors with wine, cordials, and brand}', 
began to disappear. The sideboards of 
the rich and influential, which from time 
immemorial had groaned under a load of 
decanters, were relieved of their burdens, 
and a very great change in the customs of 
society began to be apparent. At the 
close of 1828, the number of temperance 
societies reported in the temperance jour- 
nals was two hundred and twenty-five. 
At the close of 1829, there were more 
than one thousand such societies, embrac- 
ing more than one hundred thousand 
members, pledged to total abstinence ; 
fifty distilleries had stopped, four hun- 
dred mcrirhants had abandoned the traffic, 
and twelve hundred drunkards had been 
reclaimed. On the first of !May, 1831, it 



appeared that more than three hundred 
thousand persons had signed the pledge, 
and not less than fifty thousand were sujv 
posed to have been saved from a drunkard's 
grave. Even at Washington, a congres- 
sional temperance societj' was organized, 
under the auspices of such men as Cass, 
Grundy, Bates, Wayne, Post, Durbin, and 
others ; and some of the most brilliant 
jiublie men signed the pledge. 

A very common objection (adds Dr. 
Davis), made by many of the poor, was, 
that they could not affonl to drink wine, 
and, therefore, that signing the pledge 
operated unequally ; it took from them 
the use of .ill stimulants l>ut cider and 
beer, but it left to the rich the use of wine, 
which was often about as strong as Cognac 
brandy. In order to obviate this objec- 
tion, it was found necessary' to introduce 
a new pledge, prohibiting the use, not 
only of distilled, but of fermented, liquors. 
The first society that adopted this pledge 
was the Eighth Ward Branch of the New 
York Citj' Temperance Society. This 
was called the tee-total pledge. — a name 
first given to it in England, and which 
liad its origin in the prolonged and inco- 
herent .stuttering, bj* one who was taking 
the pledge, at the first letter in the word 
' totaV This tee-total pledge was intro- 
duced into this country in 1834, and in 
a short time many societies were formed 
on that jirinciple. Many, however, who 
signed the old pledge, refused to sign the 
new ; and thus there was an apparent fall- 
ing off in the number of the members of 
temperance organizations. Some, too, who 
had delivered public addresses, and stood 
foremost in the ranks of reformers, were 
thrown into the background, and became 
silent spectators of passing events. 

Among the prominent pron)i>tcrs of the 
cause, appear the names of Dclavan, Nor- 
ton, Keener, Gerritt Smith, Moses Grant, 
Loyd, Collins, Briggs, Walworth, Grundy, 
Hunt, Stewart, and Hoar, as speakers. 
Mr. L. M. Sargent contributed jiowcrfully 
to the reform, by his unrivaled temper- 
am* tales, including that widely circulated 
and admired production, "My Mother's 



n 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



595 



Gold Ring." Pierpont inspired thousands 
by his quaint and thrilling iioems ; and 
the letters, essays, and other writings, of 
such men as Woodward, Warren, Baird. 
Beman, Chapin, Kirk, Channing, and 
Barnes, added greatly to the impression 
upon the public mind. Among the inci- 
dents of this period, perhaps none created 
greater interest and excitement through- 
out the whole land, than the assault, prose- 
cution, and imprisonment, of Rev. George 
B. Cheever, of Salem, Mass., subsequently 
of New York. About the beginning of 
1835, he published in a Salem newspaper, 
a dream, descriptive of " Deacon Giles's 
Distillery." in which the liquors were 
graphically characterized as containing 
demons in an inferno. Deacon Giles was 
a veritable person, and the publication 
resulted in a violent assault upon Mr. 
Cheever, one night, by tlie foreman of the 
distillery, who inflicted upon the unarmed 
clerg3'man a number of severe blows with 
a raw hide, to which Mr. Chee^'er made no 
resistance. Mr. Cheever was also prose- 
cuted for libel, and sentenced to thirty 
days' imprisonment. He was regarded as 
a martyr to the cause of temperance, and 
his case helped rather than checked the 
progress of the reform. He continued to 
do valiant service, as before, ,vith his pen 
and voice, ranking, in this respect, with 
such men as Clarke, Grimke, Fisk, Coffin, 
Woods, Williams, Merrill, Sewall, Pond, 
Thurston, Reese, Van Loon, Jewett, Buck- 
ingham. 

But a most stirring and enthusiastic 
impetus was yet to be given tii the temper- 
ance movement, and that through the 
humblest personal instrumentality. This 
was the organization of the Washington 
Temperance Society, in Baltimore, in the 
month of April, 1840 ; its most remarka- 
ble convert lieing Mr. John H. W. Haw- 
kins, who joined the society the following 
June. 

It appears that six individuals, who 
were in the habit of associating together, 
were seated, as usual, on Friday evening, 
April 2, 1840, in Chase's tavern, in Lib- 
erty street, Baltimore, where they were 



accustomed to meet almost every evening, 
for the purpose of enjoying mutually all 
the benefits and conveniences which that 
establishment and each other's society 
could possibly afford. These were Wil- 
liam K. Mitchell, tailor ; John F. Hoss, 
carpenter ; David Anderson, blacksmith ; 
George Steers, blacksmith ; James McCur- 
ley, coach-maker; and Archibald Camp- 
bell, silver-plater. A clergyman who was 
lu-eacliing in the city at that time, had 
given public notice that on that evening 
he would deliver a discourse on the sub- 
ject of temperance. Upon this lecture, 
the conversation of the six comrades pres- 
ently turned ; whereupon it was agreed 
that four of them should go and hear it, 
and report accordinglj'. So, after the ser- 
mon, they returned and conversed on its 
merits for some time ; when one of the 
comjjany remarked, ' After all, temperance 
is a good thing.' ' Oh,' said the host, 
' they're all a parcel of hypocrites.' ' Oh, 
yes,' replied McCurley, ' I'll be bound for 
you; it's j'our interest to cry them down, 
anj'how.' ' / tell you what, boys, let's 
form a society, and make Bill Mitchell 
president.' 'Agreed,' cried they. The 
idea seemed to take wonderfully', and the 
more they talked and laughed over the 
idea, the more were they pleased with it. 

After parting that night, they did not 
all meet again until Sunday, when they 
took a stroll, and, between walking and 
treating, they managed to arrange the 
whole matter to their entire satisfaction. 
It was agreed that one of them should 
draw up a pledge, and tliat the whole 
party should sign it the next day. Accord- 
ingly, on Monday morning, Mitchell wrote 
the following pledge : ' We whose names 
are annexed, desirous of forming a society 
for our mutual benefit, and to guard 
against a pernicious practice, which is 
injurious to our health, standing, and fam- 
ilies, do pledge ourselves as gentlemen, 
that we will not drink any spirituous or 
malt liquors, wine, or cider.' 

He went with this, at about nine o'clock, 
to Anderson's house, and found him still 
in bed. sick from the effects of his Sunday 



396 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ail ventures. He arose, however, dressed 
himself, and, after hearing the pledge read, 
went down to his shop with his friend for 
pen and ink, and there did himself the 
honor of being the first man to sign. 
After obtaining the names of the remain- 
ing four, the worthy president finished 
this noble achievement by adding his own. 
On the evening of that daj-, they met at 
the residence of one of their number and 
dulj' formed themselves into a society, with 
the usual officers. Little did these six 
associates know of the fame and achieve- 
ments they were moulding ! 

Having thus got under way, thej' next 
turned their attention to obtaining mem- 
bers and devising means to defraj' the 
expenses of their meetings ; it was there- 
fore agreed that each man should bring a 
man, and everv one should pay twenty-five 
cents upon becoming a member, and 
twelve and a half cents, monthly, there- 
after. 

The next debate was as to the name 
they should give to their society. A num- 
ber were projiosed, among them that of 
Jefferson ; when it was finally agreed that 
the president and secretary should be a 
committee to draft a constitution, and 
select a name. This they tlid, giving to 
the association the name of the "Wash- 
ington Temperance Society," in honor ;. 
of the Father of his Country, and were i 
conseipiently known as Washuirjton tans. ■ 
It is a little singular, however, that this 
name should have been chosen, for, ^} 
thougli Washington was 
one of the brightest 
examples of temperate 
eating and drinking, hi- 
habitually used liijunr 
or wine himself, an 
provided it for liis 
guests and laborers. 
The following curiou,- 
document is in point : 

" Articles of Agree- 
ment made this twelftli 
day of April, Ann.. 
Domini, one thousan 
seven h u n d r e d and 



eighty-seven, by and between George 
Washington, Esq., of the Parish of Truro, 
in tlie County of Fairfax, State of Vir- 
ginia, on tlie one part, and Philip liater, 
Gardener, on the other. Witness, that 
the said Philip Bater, for and in 
consideration of the covenants herein 
hereafter mentioned, doth promise and 
agree to serve the said George Wash- 
ington for the term of one year, as a 
Gardener, and that he will, during said 
time, conduct himself soberly, diligently 
and honestly — that he will faithfully and 
industriously perform all and every part of 
his duty as a gardener, to the best of his 
knowledge and abilities, and that he will 
not, at any time suffer himself to be clis- 
guised with liquor, except on the times 
hereafter mentioned. In consideration of 
these things being well ami truly per- 
formed on the part of the said Philip 
Bater, the said George Washington doth 
agree to allow- him (the said Philip) the 
same kind and quantity of provisions as he 
has heretofore had ; and likewise, annually, 
a decent suit of clothes, befitting a man in 
his station ; to consist of a coat, vest and 
breeches ; — a working-jacket, and breeches 
of home-spun besides; two white shirts; 
throe checked do ; two linnen pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs, two pair linnen overalls ; — as 




BIOSIKO THE PLEDOE. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



397 



many pair of shoes as are actually neces- 
sary for him ; — -four dollars at Christmas, 
with which he may be drunk four days 
and four niglits ; two dollars at Easter to 
effect the same purpose; two dollars at 
Whitsuntide, to be drunk two days; — a 
dram in the morning and a Drink of Grorj 
at Dinner at noon." 

The above is signed by the two con- 
tracting parties, and witnessed by George 
A. Washington and Tobias Lear. In 
another instance, Washington's fine in- 
stincts and principles are admirably dis- 
played : 

" I shall not close this letter," writes 
Washington to one of his overseers, 
"without exhorting j'ou to refrain from 
spirituous liquors ; thej^ will prove your 
ruin if jou do not. Consider how little a 
drunken man differs from a beast ; the 
latter is not endowed with reason, the 
former deprives himself of it; and when 
that is the case, acts like a brute, annoy- 
ing and disturbing every one around him ; 
nor is this all, nor, as it respects himself, 
the worst of it. By degrees it renders a 
person feeble, and not only unable to 
serve others, but to help himseK ; and 
being an act of his own, he falls from a 
state of usefulness into contempt, and at 
length suffers, if not perishes, in penury 
and want. Don't let this be your case. 
Shew yourself more of a man and a Chris- 
ian than to yield to so intolerable a vice, 
which cannot, I am certain, (to the great- 
est lover of liquor,) give more pleasure to 
sip in the poison, (for it is no better,) than 
the consequence of it in bad behavior at 
the moment, and the more serious evils 
[iroduced by it afterwards must give pain." 

Great and wonderful were the results 
destined to flow from the ' Washington 
Temperance Society,' thus started by those 
six inebriates in the city of Baltimore. 
At their second meeting, they had two 
new members ; but, in a comparatively 
short time, the society increased so much 
that it became a question how they could 
employ their time so as to make their 
meetings interesting. The president there- 
upon suggested that each member should 



rise in his place and give his experience ; 
and, by way of commencement, he arose 
and told what he had passed through in 
the last fifteen j-ears, and the advantages 
he had derived from signing the total- 
abstinence pledge. This was the origin of 
that most popular and efficient method 
which the Washington Society and all its 
auxiliaries adopted, for giving interest 
and effect to their gatherings. Signers 
were thus obtained, and the attention of 
the public was attracted, so that a class 
was reached which otherwise might not 
have been affected by the labors of those 
other good men who had for so many 
years been engaged in promoting temper- 
ance in a different way. 

By Christmas, in 1840, the reform had 
become so popular, that thousands had 
flocked to its standard, and enrolled them- 
selves as the friends of temperance. The 
wave had swept onward, and tidings of the 
great reformation reached distant cities. 
On invitation from New York, for a dele- 
gation of five men to hold experience 
meetings twice every day for one week, in 
that city, Messrs. Hawkins, Pollard, Shaw, 
Case}', and Mitchell, proceeded to that 
place, and there held the first Washing- 
tonian missionary temjjerance meeting 
ever known in the United States. It was 
a tj'pe of that success w'hich was to 
accomjoany this new sj'stem in behalf 
of temperance, for, during each of the 
speeches, midtitudes came forward and 
signed the j^ledge, and, taken altogether, 
such a scene had never before been wit- 
nessed in N^w York. 

But the most powerful among all the 
advocates of Washingtonian reform was 
Mr. Hawkins, who rose from the very gut- 
ter of drunkenness to the rostrum of im- 
passioned eloquence in advocacy of reform, 
and with prodigious success. The pecu- 
liar circumstances of his history had an 
almost overpowering effect on his own 
feelings, whenever he spoke, and his au- 
diences listened now breathlessly, and 
anon with uncontrollable demonstrations 
of enthusiasm. He was a man of plain, 
good common sense, with a peculiar sin- 



398 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177C-1876. 



cerity about him, and an easy way of 
working up his liearers to a state of sym- 
pathy witli l\im. He would at one time 
assume the melting mood, and picture the 
scenes of a drunkard's home — and that 
jiome his own — and the fountains of gen- 
erous feelings, in many hearts, gushed 
forth in tears ; and again, in a moment, 
as lie related some ludicrous stor}', those 
tearful eyes glistened with delight, sighs 
changed to hearty shouts, and long faces 
were convulsed with broad grins and 
glorious smiles. Drunkards and outcasts 
of the worst type, that swarm in the fes- 
teringpurlieus and penetralia of New York, 
were reclaimed, and such was the over- 
whelming power of the movement, that, 
finally, immense meetings were held in the 
Park. In Boston, too, the old Cradle of 
Liberty rocked with tumultuous enthusi- 
asm for ' indi^pendence ' from the tyrant of 
strong drink. Festivals, children's cold 
water armies, processions, banners, bands 
of music, songs, etc., tilled the whole land 
with the feast of reason and the flow of 
soul. 

Statistics might be indefinitely pre- 
sented, showing the vast results achieved 
by this wondcrfid moral enginery. Up- 
wards of twenty-two thousan<l names were 
obtained to the pledge by Messrs. Pollard 
and Wright, in a lecturing tour made by 
thrill through Central New York, New 
Jersej', and Pennsj'lvania. Messrs. Vicars 
and Small and Smith revolutionized Ohio 
and the West ; Hawkins, Bishop, John- 
son, Hayes, and Haydock, labored from 
one end of the country to the other. Haw- 
kins alone, in less than twenty years, 
traveled more than two huiulrcd thousand 
miles, lecturing between live and six thou- 
sand times. Latham, Madden, Snow, 
White, Cary, Leigh, CoflSn, Brown, Riley, 
Bungay, Copway, Zug, Drinkard, Tliomi)- 
son, are names that will ever be remem- 
bered, too, as powerful and successful 
advocates of this reform, on the rostrum ; 
and those of Pierpont, Burleigh, Phillips, 
Tappan, and others, liy their stirring 
songs and poems. But, chief and most 
powerful of the many advocates of the 



temperance reformation, is John B. Gough, 
who has proved himself in this arena, a 
wonderful orator. His eloquence, indeed, 
was of that electric quality which, striking 
a chord in every heart and drawing tears 
from every eye, perfectly swayed the vast 
multitudes that hung upon his words 
wherever he went. Every city, town, and 
village, throughout the country, felt the 
impress of his wonderful power in this 
great reformatory movement. Like Haw- 
kins, his i-ondition was luimble, but from 
this he had descended to the lowest depths 
of social and personal degradation until 
rescued by the interposition of a friendly 
hand. No data can adequately descrilie 
the extent and value of his labors from 
that time forth, for a quarter of a century 
and more. 

But a new and most interesting, as well 
as important chapter, in the history of 
temperance, is yet to be mentioned, namely, 
the visit of Father Matbew, the world- 
renowned 'Apostle of Temperance' in 
Ireland, to this country, in 1849. For 
ten years jireviously, he labored as a tem- 
perance agitator and reformer in Ireland 
and England. In five months, he obtained 
150,000 converts in Cork ; and in Gahvay, 
he administered the pledge to no less than 
100,000 in two days ! On his landing at 
New York cit}-, the civil authorities ac- 
corded him the honor of a public recei)- 
tion,^-certainly well deserved, by one who 
had been the instrument, under divine 
guidance, of reclaiming 6,000,000 of his 
fellow-creatures. He visited the priiuiital 
cities, north and south, and everywhere a 
hearty welcome was extended to him from 
all classes. He remained several days in 
Washington, where he was entertained 
at a grand dinner by the president of the 
United States, and received many dis- 
tinguishing marks of esteem from gentle- 
men highest in the offices of the govern- 
ment. He was honored, also, with a seat 
on the floor of the house of representa- 
tives, and within the bar of the United 
States senate. At Philadelphia, he re- 
ceived his welcome in Inde]>eiKlence Hall ; 
and at Boston, the doors of Faiieuil Hall 



GREAT A^D ^LEMORABLE EVENTS. 



399 




DISTINGUISHED TEMPERANCE ADVOCATES. 



400 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



opened to liiin on golden hinges of accla- 
niiition, and wliere he administered the 
pledge to iijiwards of four thousand per- 
sons the first day. His method of admin- 
istering the pledge was somewhat novel, 
though at the same time fjuite affecting. 
The converts knelt in a semi-circle around 
him, and repeated the following words : 

' I promise, with divine assistance, to 
abstain from all intoxicating liquors, cor- 
dials, cider and fruit liquors, and to pre- 
vent, as much as possible, intemperance in 
others, by advice and example.' 

To this. Father Mathew's response was, 
' May God bless you, my children. May 
he give you grace and strength to keep 
the pledge.' He then went to each indi- 
vidual and marked them with the sign of 
the cross ; but this latter ceremony, and 
the kneeling, were dispensed with in the 
case of Protestants. In this way, the 
venerable and devoted man traveled over 
almost the entire country, zealously ad- 
vocating his great principles, and ujjwards 
of six hundred thousand persons enrolled 
themselves under his banner of total 
abstinence. Upon descending the Missis- 
sippi, he administered in one of the towns 
situated on its banks, the pledge to seven 
hundred persons. He ascended it, after 
an interval of some months, and stopping 
at the same town, he had the gratification 
to find that among the converts there were 
but three instances of relajise. Though 
not possessed of the oratorical graces of 
eloquence, like those of Gough, he knew 
how to present truth with such force and 
sincerity, as to win almost irresistibly 
upon all hearers. The following anecdote 
will illustrate his peculiar forte: 

'Did you see Father Mathew lately?' 
said one friend to another, whom he hap- 
pened to meet. ' I did,' was the reply. 
' And I'll engage he made you take the 
pledge!' ' He did, indeed. But did ?/o?< 
see him lately?' 'To be sure I did.' 
' And did he make i/ou take it too ? ' 
' That he did ! ' ' There's no escaping 
him ; but I am not sorry for it.' 'No, nor 
I neither.' 

Personally, Father Mathew was a little 



above the ordinary stature, with a full 
and well-proportioned figure, dark liair, 
soft blue eyes, ruddy and healthy com- 
plexion. 

Though characterized by periods of 
prosperity and declension, the temperance 
cause has proved itself ineradicable, even 
under circumstances seemingly the most 
untoward. Perhaps the greatest struggle 
through which it has passed, in later years, 
has been that which involved the enact- 
ment of state jirohibitory laws, which 
visited stringent penalties upon those who 
sold spirituous liquors. The'name of Neal 
Dow, the author and advocate of this kind 
of legislation, the discussion attending 
which has been one of the most important 
and exciting during the centurj-, will for- 
ever be identified with the history of the 
American temperance reformation, as will 
also the names of Greeley and Miner, dis- 
tinguished champions of the same prin- 
ciple. 1 1 

It would be an easy task to fill a whole ■ 
volume with distinguished testimonies to 
the value of temperance. As this, how- 
ever, would here be impossible, a few 
pleasant illustrative incidents will suffice 
the purpose. 

Towards the close of the revolutionary 
war, an officer in the American army had 
occasion to transact some business with 
General Washington, and repaired to 
Philadelphia for that pm-pose. Pefore 
leaving, he received an invitation to dine 
with the general, which was accepted and, 
upon entering the room he found himself 
in the company of a large number of ladies 
and gentlemen. As they were mostly 
strangers to him. and he was of a naturally 
modest and unassuming disposition, he 
took a seat near the foot of the table, aii<l 
refrained from taking an active juirt in 
the conversation. Just before the dinner 
was concluded, AVashington politely re- 
quested him. by name, to drink a glass of 
wine with him. 

' You will have the goodness to excu.se 
me, general,' was the reply, 'as I have 
made it a rule not to take wine.' 

All eyes were instantly turned upon the 



if 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



401 



young officer, and a murmur of contempt 
aud surprise ran around the room. That 
a person should be so unsocial, not to say 
mean, as never to drink wine, was really 
too bad ; but that he should abstain from 
it on an occasion like that, and even when 
offered to him by Washington himself, 
was really intolerable ! Washington no- 
ticed at once the feelings of his guests, 
and promptly addressed them in his gra- 
cious and winning way, saying : 

'Gentlemen, Mr. is right. I do 

not wish any of my guests to partake 
of anything against their inclination, 
and I certainly do not wish them to 
violate any establi-shed j^t'indpte iu their 

intercourse with me. I honor Mr. for 

his frankness, for his consistency in thus 
adhering to an established rule which can 
never do him harm, and for the adoption 
of which, I have no doubt, he has good 
reasons.' 

General Taj'lor, the hero of the Mexi- 
can war, always gave the weight of his 
example in favor of temperance. A trav- 
eler in the west one day encountered an 
emigrant journeying with his family to 
the fertile regions beyond the Mississippi, 
all his worldly goods being packed on 
wagons, and on one load there hung a 
huge jug with the bottom broken out. 
The emigrant was asked his reason for 
carrying that with him. ' Why,' he said, 



' that is my Taylor jug.' ' And what is a 
Taylor jug ? ' inquired the friend. ' Why,' 
said the emigrant, ' I had a son with Gen- 
eral Taylor's army in Mexico, and the old 
general always told him to carry his whis- 
key-jug with a hole in the bottom ; and 
since that, I have carried my jug as you 
see it, and I find it is the best invention I 
ever met with.' 

Everybody admired Admiral Farragut's 
heroism in clinging to the topmast to 
direct a battle ; but there was another 
particular of that contest, illustrating no 
less forcibly his heroic character. ' Ad- 
miral,' said one of his officers, the night 
before the battle, ' won't you consent to 
give Jack a glass of grog in the morning, 
not enough to make him drunk, but enough 
to make him fight cheerfully ? ' ' Well,' 
replied the admiral, ' I have been to sea 
considerablj', and have seen a battle or 
two, but I never found that I wanted rum 
to enable me to do my duty. I will order 
two cups of coffee to each man, at two 
o'clock ; and, at eight o'clock, I will pipe 
all hands to breakfast, in Mobile bay.' 
And he did give Jack the coffee ; and 
then he went up to the mast-head, and the 
result is well known. 

These illustrations of devotedness to the 
principle of temperance in high places 
might be greatly multiplied. Their value 
to the cause can hardly be overestimated. 



26 



XLV. 

FREMONT'S HEROIC EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY TO 

TUE UNTRACKED REGION OF THE NORTH-WEST, 

OREGON, CALIFORNIA, ETC.— 1842. 



His Exploration of tlie Sierra Nevada, and of that Wonderful Gateway in the Rocky Mountains, the 
Soutli Pass. — Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. — He Enriches 
Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless Country Before Entirely 

Unknown. — Fremont, a Pioneer of Empire. — National Objects 
of this Tour — Enchanting Record of Adventure. — Surveys 
and Researches. — Humboldt's Tribute of Admiration. — Wild 
Grandeur of the Route. — Scenes in this Vast Domain. — The 
Rocky Mountains : First Glimpses. — Formation of the South 
Pass. — " Kit Carson," the Intrepid Guide. — At the Topmost 
Peak, 14,000 Feet —Startling Boldness of the View.— Over- 
powering Quiet and Solitude. — Evidences of Awful Convul- 
sions. — Unfurling the Flag of the Union. — Appearance of 
Great Salt Lake. — Eternal Snows of the Sierra Nevada, — In 
the Sun Joaquin Valley. — An Immense Circuit of Travel — 
Fremont, the Modern Pathfinder. — Honors from His Country- 
men. — A King's Gift and Regards. 




" Prominenttj dewrvlng of diktinjcutihed recogDition la tho »?▼{£• r«nd«r«d to 
er(,icr*[)hiral fcienrc bv the Ainencsn explorer, FrcnioQt." — Kivo FllKDBBIO 

WILLIAU IV'., or PltlilllA, TU B&BU.H lltMBUtUT. 



\'ERY American reader is enchaiitud with the narrative of 
ExpLoaixuTHK.Nuuiii-wi.sr. tliose intrepid and heroic explorations of Fremont, "the 
Patlifinder," whicli, in tile language of Humboldt, — himself the greatest scientifie 
explorer and geographer the world has ever seen, — " enriched every branch of natural 
science, and illustrated a vast country before entirely unknown," and in appreciation 
of which lie received from his admiring countrymen the highest tokens of honor, and, 
from kingly hands, acknowledgments inscribed on tablets of gold. 

Several exploring tours of the western portion of our continent, within the geograph- 
ical boundaries of the country subsequently known by the title of Oregon, took ])lace 
before that which was led by the brave Fremont, but none with such rich and varied 
results as the latter. 

It being desirable for our government to become fully acquainted with tlie character 
of the vast territory between the southern geograjihical boundary of the United States 
and tho Rocky Mountains, around the head-waters of tho Missouri, Fremont was 
appointed to superintend that exploring tour, under the direction of Colonel Abert, 
the chief of the topographical bureau at Washington, and by him projected and 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



403 



planned, with the approval of Secretary 
Poinsett. The great object of this expe- 
dition was to examine and report upon the 
rivers and country between the frontiers 
of Missouri and the base of the Rocky 
Mountains ; and especially to examine the 
character, and ascertain the latitude and 
longitude of that wonderful gatewatj, the 
South Pass, the great crossing place to 
these mountains on the way to Oregon. 

In executing his official instructions, 
Fremont proceeded up the Kansas river 
far enough to ascertain its peculiar feat- 
ures, and then crossed over to the Great 
Platte, and pursued that river to its source 
in the mountains, where the Sweet Water 
— a head branch of the Platte — issues 
from the neighborhood of the South Pass. 
He reached the Pass on tlie eighth of 
August, and found it to be a wide and low 
depression of the mountains, of very easy 
ascent, and where a plainly beaten wagon 
load leads to the Oregon through the valley 
of Lewis's river, a fork of the Columbia. 
He went through the Pass, and saw the 
head-waters of the Colorado, of the Gulf 
of California ; and, leaving the valleys to 
indulge a laudable curiosity, and to make 
some useful observations, Fi-emont, at- 
tended by four of his men, climbed the 
loftiest peak of the Rocky Mountains, 
iintil then untrodden by any known human 
being ; and, on the fifteenth of August, 
looked down upon ice and snow some thou- 
sand feet below, and traced in the distance 
the vallej'S of the rivers which, taking 
their rise in the same elevated ridge, flow 
in opposite directions to the Pacific ocean 
and to the Mississippi. From that ultimate 
point he returned by the valley of the 
Great Platte, following the stream in its 
whole course, and solving all questions in 
relation to its navigability, and the feat- 
ures of the country through which it flows. 

On the prairies which border the forks 
of the river Platte, the travelers bivou- 
acked in the evening, eating their meat 
with a good relish ; for they were all in fine 
health, and had ridden nearly all of a long 
summer's day, with a burning sun reflected 
from the sands. 



When about sixty miles distant, the 
party caught the first faint glimpse of the 
Rocky Mountains. Though a tolerably 
bright day, there was a slight mist, and 
the snowy summit of ' Long's Peak,' 
showing like a small cloud near the hori- 
zon, was just barely discernible. There 
was, however, no mistake in distinguishing 
it, there being a perceptible difference 
in its appearance from the white clouds 
that were floating about the sky. 

Proceeding onward through hostile 
tribes of Indians, Fremont reached the 
first military frontier post — Fort Laramie ; 
departing thence, in a short time, for the 
bases of the " great mountains." With 
the change in the geological formation on 
leaving Fort Laramie, the whole face of the 
country appears entirely changed. East- 
ward of the meridian, the principal objects 
which strike the eye of the traveler are 
the absence of timber, and the immense 
expanse of prairie, covered with the verd- 
ure of rich grasses, and highly adapted 
for pasturage. Wherever they are not 
disturbed by the vicinity of man, large 
herds of buffalo give animation to this 
country. 

Many sufferings were endured in reach' 
ing the Rocky Mountains, but the follow^ 
ing details show that the labors of the 
party were amply rewarded. About six 
miles from their encampment brought the 
party to the summit of the South Pass. 
The ascent had been so gradual, that, with 
all the intimate knowledge possessed by 
Carson, the guide, and who had made that 
country his home for seventeen years, the 
party were obliged to watch very closely 
to find the place at which they had reached 
the culminating point. This was between 
two low hills, rising on either hand fifty 
or sixty feet. From the broken ground 
where this pass commences, at the foot of 
the Wind River Chain, the view to the 
south-east is over a champaign country, 
broken, at the distance of nineteen miles, 
by the Table Rock, which, with the other 
isolated hills in its vicinity, seemingly 
stands on a comparative plain. The 
'Pass' in no manner resembles the places 



404 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



to wliich that term is commonly aj)plied — 
nothing of the gorge-like character and 
winding ascents of the Alleghany passes 
in America, nor of the great St. Bernard 
and Simplon passes in Europe. Approach- 
ing from the mouth of the Sweet Water, a 
sand}' jilain, one hundred and twenty miles 
long, conducts, by a gradual and regular 
ascent, to the summit, about seven thou- 
sand feet above the sea ; and the traveler, 
without being reminded of any change, 
by toilsome ascents, suddenly iinds him- 
self on the waters which flow to the Facitic 
ocean. On this short mouutain-chain are 
the head-waters of four great rivers of the 
western continent, namely, the Colorado, 
Columbia, Missouri, and Platte rivers. 




I I'LAXTIXG AMERICAN FI.AO OX THE 
BOCKY MOUNTAINS, IIY I'ltEMOXT. 

A scene of characteris- 
tic adventure was that of 
reaching the summit of 
I liese mountains. Putting 
liands and feet in the crev- 
lies between the blocks, 
Fremont succeeded in get- 



ting over it, and, on attaining the top, 
found his companions in a small valley 
below. Descending to them, they con- 
tinued climbing, and in a short time 
reached the crest. He sprang upon the 
summit, and unfurled the national flag to 
tvave in the breeze where never flag waved 
before. 

During the morning's ascent, no sign 
of animal life was met with, except a small 
sparrow-like bird. A stillness the most 
profound and a solitude the most terrible 
forced themselves constantly- on the mind 
as the great features of the place. Here, 
on the summit, where the stillness was ab- 
solute, unbroken by any sound, and the 
solitude complete, the explorers thought 
themselves beyond the region of animated 
life; but, while they were sitting on the 
rock, a solitary humble-bee came winging 
his flight from the eastern valley, and lit 
on the knee of one of the men. It was ii 
strange place, the icy rock and the highest 
peak of the Rocky Mountains, for a lover 
of warm sunshine and flowers. The 
barometer stood at 18.293, the attached 
thermometer at 44 degrees; giving for 
the elevation of this summit 13,570 feet 
above the sea, it maj' be called the highest 
known flight of the bee. Erom this pre- 
Mimod loftiest peak of the great mountain 
range, — since known as Fremont's Peak, — 
could be seen innumerable lakes and 
streams, the spring of the Colorado of the 
Gulf of California, on the one side ; on the 
other, was the Wind River valle^', where 
were the heads of the Yellow Stone branch 
of the Missouri ; far to the north could be 
faintly descried the snowy heads of the 
Trois Tetons, where were the sources of 
the Missouri and Columbia rivers ; and at 
the southern extremity of the ridge, the 
peaks were plainly visible, among which 
were some of the springs of the Nebraska, 
or Platte river. The whole scene around 
had one main striking feature, which was 
that of terrible convulxion. Parallel to 
its length, the ridge was split into chasms 
and fissures ; between which rose the thin 
lofty walls, terminated with slender mina- 
rets and columns. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



405 



Fremont's next tour was devoted to 
Oregon and California. On arriving at 
the Utah lake, he had completed an 
immense circuit of twelve degrees diame- 




ter north and south, and ten degrees east 
and west. They found themselves in 
May, 1844, on the same sheet of water 
which they had left in September, 1843. 
The Utah is the southern limb of the 
Great Salt Lake ; and thus they had seen 
this remarkable sheet of water both at its 
northern and southern extremity, and were 
able to fix its position at these two points. 
In this eight months circuit, the explorers 
found that the mountains on the Pacific 
slope are higher, more numerous, and more 
distinctly defined in their ranges and 
directions, than those on the Atlantic side ; 
and, what is contrary to the natural order 
of such formations, one of these ranges, 
which is near the coast — the Sierra Nevada 
and tlie Coast Range — presents higher 
elevations and peaks than any which are 
to be found in the Rocky Mountains them- 
selves. During all this circuit, the party 
were never out of sight of snow; and the 
Sierra Nevada, where they crossed it, was 
nearly two thousand feet higher than the 
famous South Pass. Peaks ai-e constantly 
seen which enter the region of eternal 
snow. 

Differing so much from the Atlantic 



side of our continent in coast, mountains, 
and rivers, the Pacific side differs from it 
in }'et another most rare and singular 
feature — that of the Great Interior Basin. 
The structure of the country would require 
this formation of interior lakes, for the 
waters which would collect between the 
Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada, 
not being able to cross this formidable 
barrier, nor to get to the Columbia or the 
Colorado, must naturally collect into reser- 
voirs, each of which would have its little 
system of streams and rivers to supply it. 
The Great Salt Lake is a formation of this 
kind, and quite a large one, having many 
streams, and one considerable river, four 
or five hundred miles long, falling into it. 
Fremont saw this lake and river, and 
examined them ; he also saw the Wahsatch 
and Bear River mountains inclosing the 
waters of the lake on the east, and consti- 
tute, in that quarter, the rim of the Great 
Basin. Afterwards, along the eastern 
base of the Sierra Nevada, where the party 
traveled for forty-two days, they saw the 
line of lakes and rivers which lie at the 
foot of that sierra, and which sierra is the 
western rim of the basin. In going down 
Lewis's Fork, and the main Columbia, they 
crossed only inferior streams coming in 
from the left ; and often saw the mountains 
at their heads, white with snow, which 
divided the waters of the desert from those 
of the Columbia, — the range of mountains 
forming the rim of the basin on its north- 
ern side. In returning from California 
along the Spanish trail, as far as the head 
of the Santa Clara Fork of the Rio Virgen, 
the party crossed only small streams 
making their way south to the Colorado, 
or lost in sand, as the Mo-hah-ve ; while 
to the left, lofty mountains, their summits 
white with snow, were often visible — and 
which, Fremont concluded, must have 
turned water to the north as well as to the 
south, thus constituting, on this part, the 
southern rim of the basin. At the head 
of the Santa Clara Fork, and in the Vegas 
de Santa Clara, they crossed the ridge 
whicli parted the two systems of waters. 
They entered the basin at that point, and 



406 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177C-1876. 



continued for some time to travel in it, 
having its south-eastern rim — the Wah- 
satch mountain — on the right, and cross- 
ing the streams which flow down into it. 

In this eventful exploration, all the 
great features of the western slope of our 
continent wore brought to light — the 
Great Salt Lake, the Utah Lake, the Little 
Salt Lake — at all which places, then desert, 
the Mormons now are ; the Sierra Nevada, 
then solitary in the snow, now crowded 
with Americans, digging gold from its 
banks ; the beautiful valleys of the Sacra- 
mento and San Joaquin, then alive with 
wild horses, elk, deer, and wild fowls, now 
smiling with American cultivation. The 
Great Basin itself, and its contents; the 
three Parks ; the approximation of the 
great rivers •\vhich, rising together in the 
central region of the Rocky Mountains, go 
off east and west towards the rising and 
the setting sun, — all these, and other 
strange features of a new region, more 
Asiatic than American, were brought to 



It was in May, 1845, that Fremont set 
out on liis third expedition for the explora- 
tion of the Great West, and he was soon 
at the north end of the great Tla-math 
lake, and in Oregon. Hostilities being 
likely to break out between the United 
States and Mexico, Fremont, in order to 
avoid exciting any unjust suspicion as to 
the character of his movements, obtained 
leave of tlie Mexican general at Monterey, 
to encamj) during the ensuing winter, in 
the San Joaquin valley. It was not long, 
however, before open dijdomatic hostilities 
broke out between the two rejiublics, and 
Fremont received word from his govern- 
ment to keep an eye upon Mexican and 
other designs upon California. General 
Kearney, by order of government, was 
constituted head of the army of the west, 
which was to retaliate sternlj' upon 
Mexico, for her assumed aggressions. 
New Mexico was soon prostrate before 
American arms. On the fifth of July, 
1846, under tlio lead of Fremont, a band 




KUEMO.NT OS UtS GKEAT KXILUKI-SO TOOK TO THE FAE WEST AND BOCKT MOISTAIN8. 



light and revealed to public view in the 
results of this exploration. But the great 
pathfinder was to win laurels in still 
another field. 



of Americans declared their independence 
of Mexico at Sonoma, a small town near 
San Francisco, and, not long after, they 
joined Commodore Sloat, who had recently 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



407 



reduced Monterey. The successor of Sloat 
was Stockton, who, in connection with 
Eremont, at once gained possession of 
Ciudad de los Angelos, the capital of 
Upper California ; and one event speedily 
succeeded another, until, seeminglj' as 
inevitable as the gravitation of fate, the 
loss of California was consummated, and 
Fremont was appointed governor of the 
territory, which, largely through his efforts, 
had now become a permanent possession 
of the United States. 

So curious a link in this chain of events, 
as the throwing off of the Mexican yoke 
at Sonoma, and illustrating so aptly, as it 
does, the intrepidity of the great explorer, 
possesses an interest peculiarly appropriate 
to this narrative. Having aided in clear- 
ing the enemy from the country north of 
the bay of San Francisco, Fremont re- 
turned to Sonoma on the evening of the 
fourth of July, and, on the morning of the 
fifth, called the people together, explained 
to them the condition of things in the 
province, and recommended an immediate 
declaration of independence. The declar- 
ation was made, and he was selected as 
governor, or chief director of affairs. 

From Sonoma to Yerba Buena, (says 
one who accomjjanied him,) the little 
hamlet where now stands the queen city 
of the Pacific, Fremont augmented his 
stock of horses to the number of fifteen 
hundred, completely clearing the country; 
and then commenced one of the most pecu- 
liar races for a fight ever probably known. 
Rarely speaking but to urge on his men, 
or to question some passing native, taking 
the smallest modicum of refreshment, and 
watching while others snatched a moment's 
repose, was he wrapped up in his project 
and determined to have some of the fight. 
Through San Pablo, and Monterey, and 



Josepha, they dashed like the phantom 
riders of the Hartz mountains, startling 
the inhabitants, and making the night- 
watcher cross himself in terror as their 
band flew on. The river Sacrificios was 
reached ; swollen by the rains, it rolled on, 
a rapid, muddy stream ; his men paused. 

" Forward ! Forward ! " cried Fremont. 

Dashing in himself, the struggle is a 
fierce one, but his gallant mustang breasts 
the current, and he reaches the opposite 
shore in safety ; his men after a time join 
him, two brave fellows finding a watery 
grave, and manj' horses being carried down 
the stream ; but nothing can now stop 
him — the heights adjacent to the Puebla 
appear — now a smile might be seen on the 
imperturbable visage of the leader — 'tis the 
sixth day, and the goal is won ! 

With ninety men on the last of his car- 
avan of horses, he fell like a thunderbolt 
on the rear of the Mexicans. The day 
was with them ; the little band of stout 
hearts guarding the presidio, taken by 
surprise, and not having the advantage of 
the Mexicans in regard to horses, were 
beginning to waver. But cheer up, cheer 
again — succor is at hand. On come those 
riders of Fremont — nothing can withstand 
their shock. With shouts of triumph they 
change the battle to a rout. The field is 
won ! The rout of the enemy was com- 
plete, and so ended the ride of the one 
hundred. Thus did Fremont display, by 
the rarest achievements, the character of 
a consummate scientific explorer and brave 
soldier ; and, for his pre-eminent services 
in behalf of geographical science, he 
received the highest honors from the 
learned societies of Europe and America, 
and a rich and massive gold medal from 
the king of Prussia, through the hands of 
Baron Humboldt. 



XLVI. 

REBELLION IN RHODE ISLAND, UNDER THOMAS W. 

DORR.— 1842. 



Dissatisfaction with the Old Restricted Charter Granted by King Charles. — Popular Suffrage and Equal 
Political Privileges Demanded. — Uesistance of the Party in Power to these Movements. — The Con- 
testants Arm and Take the Field. — Defeat of the Agitators and Fhglit of Dorr. — Ultimate Prevalence 
of their Principles. — A Charter Two Hundred Years Old. — Its Monarchical Provisions. — SuBVage 
for Property Holders. — Denied to all Others. — An Exclusive Legislature.— Reformed Measures 
Demanded. — A People's Convention Called. — They Form a Constitution. — Proclaimed the Supreme 
Law. — Legislature Chosen under It. — Thomas W. Dorr Elected Governor. — Is Treated as a Traitor. — 
Claims to be the People's Man. — Governor King's Military Activity. — Dorr Heads a Large Force.— 
Tries to Seize the Reins of Power. — Is Routed : Quits the State.— Returns Again to the Conflict. — 
Entrenches at Chepachet : Retreats. — Tried for Treason and Imprisoned. — Pardoned and Restored. 
— Something about " Barn-burning," or the Anti-Rent Insurrection in New York. 



" All political goTernment should b« iiutituUd ft>r the good of the whole io generml, and of every individaal ia particular. "—Cssats ox 

OOTBBitMK.tT. 




N^^j^^jv//;, / y^°^HARTER rights, granted by a king, constituted the charter 
^^ ' 'y/- ^a=^ ''* t'"' political institutions of Rhode Ishind, for nearly two 

hundred years. This charter, received from Charles the 
Second, in 1663, was the fundamental law, and, down to the 
year 1841, no person had been allowed to vote for town or 
state officers, unless possessed of a certain amount of real 
estate. Under a subsequent statute of the legislature, based 
upon the spirit of the charter, no person could be admitted a 
freeman of any town, with full political privileges, unless he 
"c.iAi.iKi<",-,.-co.xsi.TCTioN." ^^^^^ ^ frcehold cstato of tlie value of one hundred and 
thirty-four dollars, or was the eldest son of such a freeholder; and thus, only about one- 
third of all the citizens of the state were legal voters. 

At the January session of the legislature in 1841, a petition, signed by five or six 
hundred male inhabitants, praying for an extension of the right of suffrage, was pre- 
sented. Influenced l>y that petition, as well as by other considerations, the legislature 
requested the qualified voters, or freemen, as they were called, to choose delegates at 
the August town-meetings, for a convention, to be held the ensuing November, to frame 
a written constitution. This convention was duly held, and the result of its labors, 
completed in 1842, was the instrument commonly known as the Landholders' Consti- 
tution, and which was formally submitted to the people. 

The friends of the constitution thus framed, in their statement of affairs to the 
chief magistrate of the nation, state that, in May, 1841, after said legal convention 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



409 



had been provided for by the legislature, 
and before the time appointed for the 
choice of delegates by the qualified voters, 
a mass meeting was held by the friends of 
the extension of suffrage, at Newport, at 
which meeting a committee was appointed, 
called the state committee, who were 
authorized by said mass meeting, to take 
measures for calling a convention to frame 
a constitution. This committee, thus 
authorized, issued the request for a meet- 
ing of the male citizens in the several 
towns, to appoint delegates to the proposed 
convention. 

Thus called together, the convention 
assembled in Providence, in October, 1841, 
and the instrument called the People's 
Constitution was the result of their delib- 
erations. At subsequent meetings of por- 
tions of the people, in December, 1841, by 
the authority of this convention, all males 
over twenty-one years of age were admitted 
to vote for the adoption of the people's 
constitution ; these meetings not being — 
according to the view held by the land- 
holders' party, — -under presiding officers 
whose legal duty or legal right it was to 
interpose any check or restraint as to age, 
residence, property, or color. 

By the provisions of the people's consti- 
tution, it was ordained that said instru- 
ment should be submitted to the people, 
for adoption or rejection, on the twentj'- 
seventh of December, and on the two suc- 
ceeding days. And it was also provided, 
that ' every person entitled to vote as afore- 
said, who, from sickness, or other causes, 
may be .unable to attend and vote in the 
town or ward meetings assembled for vot- 
ing upon said constitution, on the days 
aforesaid, is requested to write his name 
on a ticket, and to obtain the signature 
upon the back of the same of a person who 
has given in his vote, as a witness thereto. 
And the moderator or clerk of any town 
or ward meeting, convened for the pur- 
pose aforesaid, shall receive such vote on 
either of the three days next succeeding 
the three days before named for voting for 
said constitution.' During the first three 
days, about nine thousand votes were 



received from the hands of the voters in 
the open town-meetings ; and, by the 
privilege thus granted to every and all the 
friends of the constitution, of bringing 
into their meetings the names of voters 
during the three following days, five thou- 
sand more votes were obtained, making 
an aggregate of about fourteen thousand 
votes. 

This constitution, thus originating and 
thus formed, was subsequently declared by 
the convention to be the supreme law of 
the land ; and, by its provisions, a govern- 
ment was to be organized under it, by the 
choice of a governor, lieutenant-governor, 
senators and representatives, on the Mon- 
day preceding the third Wednesday in 
April, 1842. 

By the provisions of the landholders' 
constitution, as it was called, every white 
male native citizen, possessing the free- 
hold qualification, and over twenty-one 
years of age, could vote, upon a residence 
of one j^ear ; or, without any freehold, 
could vote, upon a residence of two years, 
except in the case of votes for town-taxes, 
in which case the voter was required to 
possess the freehold qualification, or be 
taxed for other property of the value of 
one hundred and fifty dollars. 

By the people's constitution, every white 
male citizen of the United States, of the 
age of twenty-one years, who had resided 
in the state for one year, and in the town 
where he votes for six months, should be 
permitted to vote, — with the same excep- 
tion in regard to voting for town-taxes, as 
that contained in the other constitution. 

On the twenty-first, twenty-second, and 
twenty-third of March, the landholders' 
constitution was, by an act of the legisla- 
ture, submitted to all the persons who, by 
its provisions, would be entitled to vote 
under it, after its adoption, for their ratifi- 
cation. It was rejected hy a majority of 
six hundred and seventy-six ; the whole 
number of votes jiolled, during these three 
e.xciting daj-s, was over sixteen thousand. 

The people's constitution, on being sub- 
mitted to the people for ratification, 
received fourteen thousand votes, the 



410 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



returns being counted and the result 
declared in January, 1842; and, the land- 
holders' constitution having been defeated, 
there was now presented the single issue 
of the old charter of 1663 on the one hand, 
and the suffrage constitution, just adopted, 
as claimed, by the popular vote, on the 
other. Great enthusiasm was manifested 
by the triumph wliich they and their cause 
had .achieved, and meetings and proces- 
sions, with music, badges, bonfires, etc., 
everywhere proclaimed the event. 

Chief among the leaders in this remark- 
able revolution, as it was termed, was 
Thomas Wilson Dorr, of Providence, a 







(7 



C/.>^V>-. 



graduate of Harvard College, and wlio, 
after pursuing his legal studies in the office 
of Chancellor Kent, of New York, com- 
menced his professional practice in Provi- 
dence. Though for years a federalist in 
his politii^al ])rinciplcs, he in time identi- 
fied himself with the victorious party 
whose leaders were Jackson and Van 
Buren. Of decided ability, Mr. Dorr was, 
for several consecutive terms, elected a 
member of the state legislature, and, in this 
rapacity, he repeatedly proposed measures 
for extending the privilege of suffrage and 
other rights of citizenship. Failing in 



this, and possessing great activity and 
adroitness as a jiolitician, he appealed to 
the masses, and was soon the cherished 
leader of a large and enthusiastic party. 

Governor King issued his proclamation, 
pronouncing the movement of the suffrage 
party treasonable, and warning all of the 
consequences which a continuance in such 
acts would bring uj)on them. 

Undismayed, however, by these threats, 
the suffrage party, presuming on its 
strength and popularity, went into an 
election of state officers, April eighteenth, 
1842, resulting in the elevation of Mr. Dorr 
to the governorship, together with the 
other officers constituting the government 
of the state. The seal of the state was 
copied, and a fac simile engraving pro- 
cured. Orders, in the form of requests, 
were issued to the military in Providence 
and elsewhere, which adhered to the new 
order of things, to appear in the citj' on 
the fourth of May, to jterform escort duty 
on the occasion of organizing the new 
government. 

On the day appointed, the officers of the 
st.ate, elect, under the people's constitu- 
tion, assembled in Providence, for the pur- 
pose of inauguration. The state-house 
having been refused them, they met in an 
unfinished building, which was designed 
as a foundrj', and which had been obtained 
for their use. On this eventful morning, 
the people began at an early hour to come 
together, and a large gathering was soon 
on hand. A procession was formed, and 
proceeded to the jilace of meeting, accom- 
panied b}- a considerable military body. 
The new legislature was organized in ac- 
cordance with the customary form, and 
immediately commenced the trans<iction 
of business. In proceeding to the i)lace 
of meeting, the i>ortion of the ])rocession 
consisting of Dorr and the other members 
of the government elect, was flanked, on 
the right and left, by a military guard; 
and the guard, as well as all the other mil- 
itary in the procession, were supjwsed to 
march with lo.ided muskets, and furnished 
with ball cartridges. During the day, no 
popular disturbance occurred, and, at night, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



411 



all was quiet. A military guard was kept 
at the place of meeting, during business 
hours, and at Dorr's quarters. 

A message was delivered by Governor 
Dorr, to the peojjle's legislature, in which 
he gave a history of j'a-st events and 
marked out the course of policy to be pur- 
sued. The message was regarded as bold, 
firm, and decided in its tone, and dignified 
in its character. The first legislative act 
performed, was, the passage of a resolution 
to inform the president and congress, and 
the governors of the several states, of the 
establishment of the new government. A 
proposition was made by Governor Dorr to 
take possession of the state-house in Provi- 
dence, and other state property, but this 
was not adopted, but commissioners were 
appointed to demand possession of the 
public records, funds, and other j)roperty. 
Little was done in the waj' of organizing 
the various departments of government; 
but the 'Algerine Law,' as it was called, 
passed by the charter legislature, and de- 
signed to prevent citizens from engaging 
in the suffrage partj' movement, or taking 
office of any kind in connection with the 
same, under certain pains and penalties, 
was solemnly repealed. The courts of law, 
however, were left unmolested, though all 
of them were opposed to the new party, 
and Chief Justice Durfee was its especial 
enemy. After a session of three days, the 
body adjourned to July fourth, at Provi- 
dence. 

Arriving at Providence, Governor Dorr 
was received by a large mass of citizens, 
of whom two or three hundred were armed ; 
in an undress uniform, and a sword at 
his side, the hero of the daj' was conducted 
through the principal streets of the city, 
in an elegant barouche drawn by four 
white horses. In this triumphal style, he 
proceeded to the house of Burriugton 
Anthony, where he took up his quarters, 
protected by a military guard, and two small 
pieces of artillery. Governor Dorr soon 
issued a proclamation, in wliich, after stat- 
ing that the president had intimated an 
intention of resorting to the forces of the 
United States to check the movements of 



the people of Rhode Island in supjiort 
of their rejiublican constitution recently' 
adopted, he, Dorr, declared that, so soon 
as a soldier of the United States should 
be set in motion for any such purpose, he 
should oppose said force by that aid which, 
he was authorized to say, would be imme- 
diately forthcoming from the city of New 
York and elsewhere. The military were 
enjoined to see that no more arrests were 
made under the Algerine law, and the 
militia were directed to hold themselves in 
readiness for immediate service. 

Thus, it became evident that the adher- 
ents to the charter and the adherents to 
the constitution were soon to be brought 
face to face, force being opposed to force. 

It was ordered by King and his council 
that Dorr should be taken, if possible, 
before the day closed. With this view, 
expresses were dispatched into all parts of 
the state, and a steam-boat sent to touch at 
Newport, Bristol, and Warren, to bring 
help in behalf of the charter government ; 
the boat, arriving in the morning, brought 
a large body of men, who were at once 
joined to King's forces, and prepared for 
the field of battle. Some aid also came to 
Dorr, and the prospect was that a bloodj^ 
fight would occur. 

At an early hour. King, with a bodj' of 
his men, marched into the veiy midst of 
the suffrage throng, without molestation, 
and surrounded Mr. Anthony's house, — 
Dorr's quarters. A detachment then went 
into the house, but, on searching. Dorr 
could nowhere be found. He had, it was 
reported, left town. A jiortion of the 
cadets volunteered to go in pursuit of him. 
They instantly mounted, determined to 
take him wherever he could be found, but 
were misinformed as to his route, and 
returned after having gone in the direction 
of the Norwich and Worcester railroad, a 
distance of twenty miles. He felt keenly 
the result of the arsenal affair, and the 
failure of his forces to come up to the 
mark. 

The leaders, on the part of the suffrage 
party, had dismissed their men, and ad- 
vised them to retire peaceably from the 



412 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 17:(;-1876. 



ground. A large body left the .scene, in 
couipliiince witli this request. Otliers 
were on the ground to a large number, 
and around the cannons, on the arrival of 
the body of citizens under King. Many 
in the suffrage ranks cried out "fire" but 
there was no attempt in reality to obstruct 
the passage of King's men in surrounding 
the house and taking possession of the 
ground. The landholders, under the di- 
rection of the United States marshal, at 
the instance of the national authorities, 
took the guns and arms from the suffrage 




men as they passed through the streets on 
their way liomc. 

It being i)rctt3' generally understood 
that Dorr had gone to Connecticut, a 
requisition was made by King upon Gov- 
ernor Cleveland, of tliat state, for his ren- 
dition, but unsuccessfully. A reward was 
also offered for the capture of Dorr and 
his delivery to the charter authorities, for 
trial on charges of treason. But all this 
was ineffectual. Indeed, the fugitive rap- 
idly became ilhistrious out of his own state, 
to a degree far beyond his experience at 
home. Meetings of sympathy for him and 
his cause were held in several of the large 



cities ; and the legislature of Maine, act- 
ing at the suggestion of Governor Fair- 
field, passed resolutions of a similar spirit. 
But, notwithstanding the defeat and dis- 
persion of the suffrage forces on the eight- 
eenth of May, and the disappearance of 
Dorr, no means or efforts were being 
spared by the latter to rally his friends 
around him in suflScient numbers to insure 
a safe return to the state and a reasser- 
tion of the supremacy of the people's con- 
stitution. 

In a few weeks, the suffrage friends had 
entrenched themselves at Alcot's hill, 
Chepachet, a village in the town of 
Gloucester, and here, by proclamation 
from Dorr, the legislature was sum- 
moned to meet on the fourth of July. 
The expectation was now general, 
throughout the state, that matters 
were hourly coming to a final test. 
In anticipation of this, martial law 
was declared by King, and every 
available soldier was at once put into 
the ranks, soon numbering several 
thousand. Business was su'spended, 
^s and the alarming state of things al> 
sorbed all thought and action. Ma- 
jor General William Gibbs McNeill 
was in command of the landholders' 
army. Dorr arrived at the encanifv 
ment of his followers, at two o'clock 
in the morning, his force, however, 
numbering scarcelj' one-fourth that 
of his opponents, though he was well 
supplied with field-pieces, arms, and 
ammunition ; there were four large mar- 
quees, and some of the men were quartered 
in a barn. The encampment occupied a 
fine location, the hill being eighty feet 
high and commanding the Providence 
turnpike, for the whole range of cannon. 

At about half-past four o'clock the next 
morning, General McNeill caused a body 
of five hundrcfl men, under Colonel W. W. 
Hrown, to proceed from Greenville to Che- 
pachet, a distance of about eight miles. 
A scout party of the infantry, of about a 
dozen men, led by Lieutenant Pitman, 
kept in advance a half a mile to two miles. 
They took and sent to the rear, tliirty per- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



413 










^SE^^p^- £*^^- 



fcS--^ 



sons, in the course of 
the march, all fugitives froua the Che- 
pachet camp. Upon arriving near the 
fortification, it was evident that the 
force had materially decreased ; so 
much so, that the scout party, without 
waiting for the advance of the main 
body, determined on entering the forti- 
fication alone. A^o resistance was 
made ! The men fled in confusion, and 
the scout party took j^ossession with- 
out firing a gun. The fortifi- 
cation proved to be quite inade- 
quate for anj' hostile military 
operations. The main body 
immediately arrived, and, the 
village being now entirely in 
their power, escape was imjjos- 
sible, and a large num- 
ber of prisoners were / 
taken, and a 



^N 



v\''V 



tfl 



%\ 



m 



V^ B'' 



■\ 



l^ 



l^^m 



AV. 



KIXAL DISPERSIOS Of GOV. DOBB ASD HIS FORCES. 



.•-ij 



considerable quantity 
of arms. Dorr fled to 
Connecticut, accompa- 
nied by a few of his 
soldiers. Governor 
King offered, again, 
a large reward for Gov- 
ernor Dorr's capture, 
but he found safe quar- 
ters in Connecticut 
and New Hampshire, 
until he voluntarily re- 
turned. The authorities of the state 
at once took him into custody, and 
an indictment for high treason hav- 
ing been found against him, he was 
tried, and a verdict of guilty being ren- 
dered, he was sentenced to be impris- 
oned for life. In 1847, however, Hon. 
Byron Dinman being then governor of 
the state, Mr. Dorr was pardoned ; and 
in 1853, during the administration of 
Governor Allen, the legi-slature restored 



I-*'?*' 



r7 



414 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



him to full citizenship, and his friends also 
caused the official record of his sentence to 
be expunged. His death occurred the 
next year, but not until tlie measures he 
had espoused were, in good part, engrafted 
upon the political system of his state, and 
the party with which he was identified 
administering its public affairs. 

Similar, in some of its features, to the 
rebellion in Rhode Island, was the anti- 
rent insurrection in the state of New 
York, the origin and character of which, 
as set forth by Willard, the historian, will 
sufficiently appear in the following brief 
statement : 

Under the early Dutch government of 
that state, certain settlers received patents 
of considerable tracts of land, that of Van 
Rensselaer being the most extensive, — 
comprising, as it did, the greater portion 
of Albany and Rensselaer counties. These 
lands were divided into farms of from one 
hundred to one hundred and sixty acres, 
and leased in perpetuity on condition that 
the tenant pay annually, to the landlord 
or ' patroon,' a quantity of wheat, from 
twenty-two and a half bushels to ten, with 
four fat fowls, and a day's service with 
wagon and horses. If the tenant sold his 
lease, the landlord was entitled to one 
quarter of the purchase money. The land- 



lord was also entitled to certain privileges 
on all water power, and a right to all 
mines. 

The summer of 1844 witnessed the most 
violent disturbances by the anti-rent party 
in the eastern towns of Rensselaer, and 
the Livingston Manor in Columbia county. 
The anti-renters formed themselves into as- 
sociations to resist the law, and armed and 
trained bands, disguised as Indians, scoured 
the country, crying " Down with the 
Rent ! " and, in various ways, intimidating 
those who favored the execution of the 
law. In 1846, Silas Wright was chosen 
governor of the state, and by his wisdom 
and firmness public order was restored. 
By proclamation, he declared the locality in 
which these disorders prevailed, to be in a 
a state of insurrection ; resolute men were 
I made sheriffs, military force was brought 
1 into requisition, and the leading anti-rent- 
i ers arraigned for trial. Some of these, 
convicted of murder, were condemned to 
death, but their punishment commuted to 
imprisonment for life. Throughout the 
whole of this exciting period, there were 
multitudes who sympathized with those 
who opposed the collection of the rents, 
but who withheld all countenance from 
those measures of lawless resistance, to 
which the more violent resorted. 



XL VII. 

MUTINY ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES BRIG-OF-WAR 
SOMERS, CAPtAIN A. S. MACKENZIE.— 1842. 



Deep-Laid Plot to Seize the Vessel, Commit Wholesale Murder of Her Men, Raise the Black Flag, and 
Convert Her into a Pirate. — All Prizes to be Plundered, Burnt, their Crews Butchered, and Women 
and Girls Ravished. — Midshipman Spencer, Son of a United States Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader. 
— The Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arm. — First Mutiny in the United States Navy. — Spen- 
cer's Hold Upon His Comrades. — Death the Penalty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Mis- 
placed. — A Man of Honor Tampered With. — Captain Mackenzie Informed of the Plot. — Treats it 
as Wild and Improbable. — Confronts and Questions Spencer. — Orders Him to be Ironed. — Plan Found 
in His Razor-Case. — Alarming Disaffection of the Crew. — None of the Officers Implicated. — Close 
Investigation of the Case — Spencer, Cromwell, and Small, to Die. — Their Fate Announced to 
Them. — Spencer's Account of His Life. — They Meet On Their Way to be Hung. — Treatment of 
Each Other. — Spencer Begs to Give the Last Signal. — Closing Scene of the Tragedy. — All Hands 
Cheer the Ship. — Raising the Banner of the Cross. 




" 1 am leagued to get posaeasion of the veaBel, murder the commander and officera, 
choose from among the crew who are willing to join me such as will be useful, murder 
the rest, and conmence pirating: to attack no vessels that 1 am not sure to -capture; 
to destroy every vestige of the captured veasels; and to select such of the female passen- 
:ers as are suitable, and, after using them sutHciently, to dispose of them." — SPENCER'S 

"ECLA RATION. 



EENLY was the heart of the universal American 
nation wrung, in December, 1842, at the story of the 
mutiny and tragedy on board the United States brig 
Somers, then under the command of Captain Alex- 
ander Slidell Mackenzie. The chief ringleader in 
this deep-dyed and amazing plot of crime and blood, 
THE BLACK FLAG. was no less a person than Midshipman Philip Spen- 

cer, son of tlie distinguished statesman, Hon. John C. Spencer, of New York, secretar^'- 
of-war under President Tyler, — officiating in that capacity at the very time of the 
ghastly occurrences here recited. 

In the whole history of the American navy, this act stands out by itself, without a 
parallel or precedent; and, surely, no pen of romance could weave a tale of imaginary 
crime etpal in ghastlj' horror to this startling chapter — the first regularly organized 
mutiny in the annals of the United States naval service. 

The development of the mutinous scheme transpired on the voyage of the Somers to 
the United States from Liberia, from which place she sailed on the eleventh of Novem- 
ber, intending to proceed home via St. Thomas. It was on Saturda}', the twenty-sixth 
of November, that Lieutenant Gansevoort went into the cabin and informed Captain 
Mackenzie that a conspiracy existed on board of the brig to capture her, murder the 
commander, the officers, and most of the crew, and convert her into a pirate, acting 
Midshipman Philip Spencer being at the head of it. He stated that Purser Hieskell 



416 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



had just informed liim that Mr. AYales, 
his steward, Iiad approaclied liiin as if to 
converse on their joint duty, and revealed 
to him, for the purpose of its being com- 
municated to the commander, important 
information. This was, that, on tlie night 
previous, being November twenty-fifth, he, 
Wales, had been accosted by Spencer, and 
invited by him to get up on the booms, as 
he liad something uncommon to say. 
When on the booms, Spencer addressed 
him as follows : 

"Do you fear death ? Do you fear a 
dead man ? Are you afraid to kill a 
man?" 

Mr. Wales, thus accosted, and having 
his curiosity excited, with admirable cool- 
ness induced Spencer to go on, and took 
the oath of secrecj- which was administered 
to him. Spencer then informed him that 
lie was leagued with about twenty of the 
crew to get possession of the vessel, 
murder the commander and officers, choose 
from among those of the crew who were 
willing to join him such as would be 
useful, and murder the rest and commence 
pirating. He mentioned all the details of 
the plan, and which was well suited to the 
attainment of his object — involving, in- 
deed, much better notions of seamanship 
than he himself was capable of forming. 
As one of the inducements to her capture, 
he stated that a bo.x, containing wine of 
rare value, brought off with much care at 
Mmleira, as a present from the United 
States consul at Funchal to Commodore 
Nicholson, contained money or treasure to 
a large amount. It was his purpose to 
carry the vessel to the Isle of Pines, where 
one of his associates, who had been in the 
business before, had friends; to attack no 
vessels that he was not sure to capture ; to 
destroy every vestige of the captured 
vessels, after having removed what was 
useful; to select such of the female pas- 
sengers as were suitable, and, after they 
had used them sufficiently, to dispose of 
them. Spencer also stated that he had 
the written plan of his project in the back 
of his cravat, which he would show to Mr. 
Wales in the morning. On separating, 



Spencer gave expression to terrible threats 
of instant death to Wales from himself or 
his accomplices, should Wales utter one 
word of what had passed. 

So monstrous and improbable did this 
project appear to Captain Mai'kcnzie, as 
thus related to him by Lieutenant Ganse- 
voort, that he at first treated it with ridi- 
cule, premising that Spencer ha<l been 
reading some piratical stories, and then 
amused himself with working upon Wales's 
credulity. Considering it, however, to be 
his duty to be on his guard, lest there 
should be even a shadow of reality in the 
scheme, Mackenzie directed his first lieu- 
tenant, Gansevoort, to watch Spencer nar- 
rowly, without, of course, seeming to do so. 
In the course of the day. Lieutenant 
Gansevoort gave information that Spencer 
had been in the wardroom examining a 
chart of the West Indies, and had asked 
the assistant surgeon some questions about 
the Isle of Pines, the surgeon replying 
that it was a place much frequented by 
pirates, and dryly asking him in return if 
he had any acquaintances there. He 
p;issed the day rather sullenly in one 
corner of the steerage, as was his custom, 
engaged in examing a small piece of jtaper 
and writing on it with his pencil, and 
occasionally finding relaxation in working 
with a penkife at the tail of a devil-fish, 
one of the joints of which he had formed 
into a sliding-ring for his cravat. He had 
endeavored, too, for some days, to ascertain 
the rate of the chronometer, by applying 
to Midshipman Rodgers, to whom it was 
unknown, and who referred him to the 
master. With boatswain's mate F. Crom- 
well, and Elisha Small, seaman, he was 
seen in secret andnightlj' conferences, and 
to both of these he had given money, as 
well as to others of the crew ; he had dis- 
tributed tobacco extensively among the 
apprentices, in defiance of reiterated 
orders ; corrupting the wardroom steward, 
he caused him to steal brandy from the 
wardroom mess, with which Spencer not 
only got drunk himself, but administered 
it to several of the crew. Though servile 
in his intercourse with Captain Mackenzie, 



*i 



GREAT A^STD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



417 



when among the crew Spencer loaded him 
with blasphemous vituperation, and pro- 
claimed that it would be a pleasing task 
to roll him overboard off the round-house. 
At one time he drew a brig with a black 
flag, and asked one of the midshipmen 
what he thought of it ; he repeatedly 
asserted, in the early part of the cruise, 
that the brig might be easily taken ; and, 
a short time prior to the revelation of the 
plot, he had examined the hand of Mid- 
shipman Rodgers, told his fortune, and 
predicted for him a speedy and violent 
death. These and various other circum- 
stances, determined Captain Mackenzie to 
make sure at once of Spencer's person, 
and, accordingly, at evening quarters, all 
the officers were ordered to lay aft on the 
quarter-deck, excepting the midshipman 
stationed on the forecastle. The master 
was ordered to take the wheel, and those 
of the crew stationed abaft sent to the 
mainmast. Captain Mackenzie now ap- 
proached Spencer, and said to him — 




" I learn, Mr. Spencer, that you aspire 
to the command of the Somers." 

" Oh no, sir," replied Spencer, with a 
deferential, but unmoved and gently smil- 
ing expression. 

" Did you not tell Mr. Wales, sir, that 
27 



you had a project to kill the commander, 
the officers, and a considerable portion of 
the crew of this vessel, and to convert her 
into a pirate ? " 

" I may have told him so, sir, but it was 
in joke." 

" You admit, then, that you told him 
so?" 

" Yes, sir, but in joke ! " 

"This, sir, is joking on a forbidden sub- 
ject — this joke may cost you your life ! 
Be pleased to remove your neck handker- 
chief." 

"What have you done with the paper 
containing an account of your project, 
which you told Mr. Wales was in the back 
of your neck handkerchief?" — nothing 
being now found in it. 

"It is a paper containing my day's 
work, and I have destroyed it." 

" It is a singular place to keep days' 
work in." 

" It is a convenient one," was the defer- 
ential and bland reply. 

"You must have been aware that you 
could only have compassed your designs 
by passing over my dead bod}', and after 
that the bodies of all the officers. You 
had given yourself, sir, a great deal to do. 
It will be necessary for me to confine you, 
sir ; " saying which, Captain Mackenzie 
turned to Lieutenant Gansevoort with the 
order — " Arrest Mr. Spencer, and put him 
in double irons." 

Lieutenant Gansevoort stepped forward, 
and, taking Spencer's sword, ordered him 
to be double ironed, and, as an additional 
security, handcuffed. Lieutenant Ganse- 
voort was directed to keep a constant watch 
upon Spencer, to answer all his wants, but 
to have him instantly put to death if 
detected in speaking to or holding intelli- 
gence in any way with the crew. 

On searching Spencer's locker, a small 
razor-case was found, which he had re- 
cently drawn from the purser, with a 
razor in it. Instead of the razor, the case 
was found to contain a small paper, rolled 
in another ; on the inner one were strange 
characters, which proved to be Greek, a 
language understood by Spencer. It for- 



418 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



tunately liappened that Midshipman Rod- 
gers was also acquainted with Greek, and, 
on his converting the characters into En- 
glish, they exhibited well-known names 
among the crew. The certain — the doubt- 
ful — those who were to be kept whether 
they would join or not — those who were to 
do the work of murder in the various de- 
partments, to take the wheel, to open the 
arm-chests — were arranged in separate 
rows. 

The next day, the crew were inspected 
at quarters, at ten o'clock. Captain Mac- 
kenzie taking his station abaft, with the 
intention of jiarticularly observing Crom- 
well and .Small. The persons of both were 
faultlessly clean. Cromwell stood up to 
his full stature, his muscles hraced, his 
battle-axe grasped resolutel3-, his cheek 
pale, but his eye fixed us indifferently, at 
the other side, and he had a determined 
and dangerous :iir. Small made a very 
different figure ; his appearance was 
ghastly; he shifted his weight from side 
to side, and his battle-axe passed from one 
hand to the other; his eye wandered irres- 
olutely, but never towards Captain Mac- 
kenzie. Cromwell was the tallest man 
on board, Small the shortest. 

From the known complicity of Cromwell 
in the plot, he was brought to the quarter- 
deck at night, where Captain Mackenzie 
caused him to sit down, and, on question- 
ing him as to a secret conversation he had 
Jield the night before with Spencer, he 
denied its l)eing him, and said, " It was 
not me, sir, it was Small."' Cromwell was 
immediately ironed; and Small, thus 
jioiiited out by an associate to increased 
suspicion, was also sent for, interrogated, 
and ironed. Increased vigilance was now 
enjoined uj)on all the officers ; henceforward 
all were peri)utually armed ; and either 
the captain or his first lieutenant was 
always on deck, and generally both of 
them wore. Several acts of disobedience 
occurring among the ship's company, pun- 
ishment was inflicted upon the transgres- 
sors to tlie full extent of the law ; after 
which. Captain Mackenzie took occasion to 
address the crew, explaining to them the 



general nature of Spencer's project, en- 
deavoring to divert the minds of the 
slightly disaffected from the pictures of 
successful vice wliich the piratical plot 
presented, and informing them that the 
majority of them, wliatever might be their 
inclinations, were to sliare the fate of the 
officers. It is an interesting fact, that 
every one of the officers of the Somers, 
from the first lieutenant to the command- 
er's clerk, proved faithful, chivalrous, and 
patriotic, from first to last. 

The effect of the captain's address was 
various, upon the minds of the crew. It 
filled many with horror at the idea of what 
the}' had escaped from ; it inspired others 
with terror at the danger awaiting them 
from their connection with the conspiracy ; 
but the whole crew was far from tranijuil- 
lized. The most seriously implicated 
began once more to collect in knots during 
the night. Seditious words were heard 
through the vessel, and an insolent and 
menacing air assumed by many. Some of 
the petty officers had been sounded hy the 
first lieutenant, and found to be true to 
their colors. They were under the impres- 
sion that the vessel was yet far from safe, 
and that an outbreak having for its object 
the release .of the prisoners was seriouslj' 
contemplated. 

This alarming state of disaffection, the 
increased number who missed their muster, 
repeated acts of insubordination, together 
with other considerations, induced Captain 
Mackenzie to have a thorough inspection 
of the crew, the immediate arrest of those 
principally suspected, and, on the thirtieth 
of November, he addressed a letter to all 
the officers on board, excepting the mid- 
shipmen, asking their opinion as to what 
additional measures were necessary to the 
security of the vessel. On receij)t of this 
letter, all the officers assembled in the 
wardroom and commenced the examination 
of witnesses. The witnesses were duly 
sworn, the testimony accurately written 
down, and, in addition to the oath, each 
witness signed the evidence which he had 
given, after hearing it read over to him. 

Without interruption and without food. 



\ 




c. 



GREAT A^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



419 



the officers continued in their occupation a 
whole day, and the xinanimotis result of 
their deliberations was, that Spencer, 
Cromwell, and Small should he put to 
death. 

In the justice of this opinion Captain 
Mackenzie at once concurred, and in the 
necessity of carrying its recommendation 
into immediate effect. The petty officers 
were now mustered on the quarter-deck, 
and they were each armed with a cutlass, 
pistol, and cartridge-box, after which the 
captain said to them, 

" Mij lads ! you are to look at vie — to 
obey my orders — and to see my orders 
obeyed ! Go forward ! " 

The captain now gave orders that imme- 
diate preparations be made for hanging the 
three principal criminals at the main yard- 
arm; and all hands were called to witness 
the punishment. The after guard and 
idlers of both watches were mustered on 
the quarter-deck at the whip intended for 
Spencer; the forecastlemen and foretop- 




men at that of Cromwell, to whose corrup- 
tion the}' had been chiefly exposed ; and 
the maintopmen of both watches at that 
intended for Small, who for a month or 
more had filled the situation of captain of 
the maintop. The officers were stationed 
about the decks, and the petty officers 
similarly distributed, with orders to cut 
down whoever should let go the whip with 
even one hand or failed to haul on it when 
ordered. The ensign and pennant being 



bent on and ready for hoisting. Captain 
Mackenzie put on his full uniform, and 
proceeded to execute the most painful 
duty that had ever devolved on an Ameri- 
can commander — that of announcing to 
the criminals their fate. To Sjiencer he 
said: 

" When you were about to take my life, 
and to dishonor me as an officer while in 
the execution of my rightful duty, without 
cause of offense to you, on speculation, it 
was your intention to remove me suddenly 
from the world, in the darkness of the 
night, in my sleep, without a momgnt to 
utter one whisper of affection to my wife 
and children — one praj'er for their welfare. 
Your life is now forfeited to your country ; 
and the necessities of the case, growing 
out of j'our corruption of the crew, compel 
me to take it. I will not, however, imi- 
tate your intended example as to the 
manner of claiming the sacrifice. If there 
yet remains to you one feeling true to 
nature, it shall be gratified. If you have 
any word to send to >'our parents, it shall 
be recorded, and f aithfull}' delivered. Ten 
minutes shall be granted you for this pur- 
pose." 

This intimation entirely overcame him. 
He sank, with tears, upon his knees, and 
said he was not fit to die. Captain Mac- 
kenzie repeated to him his own catechism, 
and begged him at least to let the officer 
set to the fnen he had corrupted and se- 
duced, the example of dying with decorum. 
This immediately restored him to entire 
self-possession, and, while he was engaged 
in prayer, Captain Mackenzie went and 
made in succession the same communica- 
tion to Cromwell and Small. Cromwell 
fell upon his knees completely unmanned, 
protested his innocence, and invoked the 
name of his wife. Spencer said: "As 
these are the last words I have to saj', I 
trust they will be believed: Cromwell is 
innocent!" Though the evidence had 
been conclusive, Captain Mackenzie was 
staggered, and at once consulted Lieu- 
tenant Gansevoort,,who said there was not 
a shadow of doubt. He was told to con- 
sult the petty officers ; he was condemned 



>• 



420 



OUE FIRST CEXTUKY.— 1776-1876. 



by acclamation by them all, as the one 
man of whom they had real apprehen- 
sion. Spencer probably' wished to save 
Cromwell, in fulfillment of some mutual 
oath ; or, more likely, he hoped he 
might yet get possession of the vessel, 
and carry out the scheme of murder 
and outrage matured between them. 
Small alone, who had been set down 
as the poltroon of the three, received 
the announcement of his fate with com- 
posure. When asked if he had any 
messages to send, he said, " I have 
nobody to care for me but my poor old 
mother, and I had rather she should 
know how I have died." On Captain 
Mackenzie returning again to Spencer, and 
asking him if he had no messages to send 
to his friends, he answered, " None that 
they would wish to receive." Subse- 
quently he said : 

" Tell them I die, wishing them every 
blessing and happiness. / deserve death 
for this and many other crimes. There 
are few crimes that I have not committed. 
I feel sincerely penitent, and my only fear 
of death is, that my repentance maj' be 
too late. I have wronged many persons, 
but chiefly my parents. This will kill my 
poor mother ! I do not know what would 
have become of me Irud I succeeded. I 
fear this may injure my father. I will 
tell you frankly what I intended to do, 
had I got home — I should have attempted 
to escape. I had the same project on 
board the John Adams and Potomac. It 
seemed to be a mania with me." 

In reply to Spencer's question whether 
the law would justify the commander in 
taking life under such circumstances, Cap- 
tain Mackenzie assured him that it would; 
that he had consulted all his brother oflS- 
cers, his messmates included, except the 
bo}-s, and their opinion had been placed 
before him. He stated that it was just, 
and that he deserved death. He asked 
what was to be the manner of his death. 
Captain Mackenzie explained it to him. 
He objected to it, .and asked to be shot. 
He was told that no distinction could be 
made between him and those he had cor- 



rupted. He admitted that this also was 
just. He objected to the shortness of the 
time for preparation, and asked for an 
hour. No answer was made to this 
request; but he was not hurried, and 
more than the hour which he asked for 
was allowed to elapse. He requested that 
his face might be covered ; this was read- 
ily granted, and he was asked what it 
should be covered with ; he did not care. 
A handkerchief was sought for in his 
locker ; none but a black one could be 
found, and this was brought for the purpose. 

It was now ordered that the other 
criminals should be consulted as to their 
wishes in this particular. They joined 
in the request, and frocks were taken 
from their bags to cover their heads. 
Spencer asked to have his irons removed ; 
but this was not granted. He asked 
for a bible and prayer-book ; they were 
brought, and others ordered to be fur- 
nished to his accomplices. He then 
said to Captain Mackenzie, "I am a be- 
liever ! Do you think that any rejjent- 
ance at this late hour can be accepted ? " 
In reply to this, the <aptain called to 
his recollection the case of the penitent 
thief who was pardoned upon the cross. 
He then read in the bible, kneeled down, 
and read in the prayer-book. He again 
asked the captain if he thought that 
his repentance could be accepted, the 
time being so short, and he did not know 
if he was really changed. In answer to 
this, he was told that God, who was all- 
merciful as well as all-wise, could not only 
understand the difficulties of the situ- 
ation, but extend to him such a measure of 
mercy as his necessities might require. 
He said, " I beg your forgiveness for what 
I have meditated against you." Captain 
Mackenzie gave him his hand, and assured 
him of his sincere forgiveness. 

More than an hour was occupied in this 
scene. The petty officers had been as- 
signed, according to rank, to conduct the 
several prisoners to the gang-way. At the 
break of the quarter-deck w.-is a narrow 
passage between the trunk and pump-well. 
Spencer and Cromwell met exactly on 



V 



n 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



421 




■ither side. The captain directed 
Jromwell to stop, to allow Spen- 
i^er to pass first. At this mo- 
ment Spencer himself paused, 
and asked to be allowed to see 
Mr. Wales. He was called, and 
Cromwell now passed on, almost 
touching Spencer. When Mr. 
Wales carfle-^up, Spencer ex- 
tended his hand to him and said, ' 
"Mr. Wales, I earnestly hope 
you will forgive me for tamper- 
ing with your fidelity ! " Spen- 
cer was wholly unmoved, Mr. 
Wales almost overcome with emotion while he 
replied, "I do forgive j-ou from the bottom 
of my heart, and I hope that God will forgive 
you also!" "Farewell," exclaimed Spencer ; 
and Mr. Wales, weeping, and causing others 



HANGING OF Ki«oLEAi.ifury«ori" THE vABu-AKM. to WBcp, respouded " FarBivell ! " 



422 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Spencer now passed on. At the g.ing- 
way he met Small. With the same calm 
manner, but with a nearer approach to 
emotion, he placed himself in front of 
Small, extended his hand, and said, "Small, 
forgive me for leading j-oii into this 
trouble." Small drew back with horror. 
"jVo, by God! Mr. Spencer, I can't for- 
give you ! '' On a repetition of the re- 
quest, Small exclaimed in a searching 
voice, " All, Mr. Sjiencer, that is a hard 
thing for you to ask me ! We shall soon 
be before the face of God, and then we 
shall know all about it!"' Captain ^lac- 
keiizie went to Small, urging him to be 
more generous — that this was no time for 
resentment. He relented at once, held 
out his hand to take the still extended 
hand of Mr. Spencer, and said with frank- 
ness and emotion, "I do forgive you, Mr. 
Spencer ! May God Almighty forgive you 
also ! " After some farewell words with 
Captain Mackenzie, he said, turning to 
those who held the ship, " Xuw, brother 
topmates, give me a quirk and easy death!" 
He was placed on the hammocks forward 
of the gangway, with his face inboard; 
Spencer was similarly pla<ed abaft the 
gangway ; and Cromwell also on the other 
side. 

About this time, Spencer sent for Lieu- 
tenant Gansevoort, and told him that he 
might have heard that his courage had 
been doubted; he wished him to bear tes- 
timony that he died like a brave man. He 
then asked the captain, what was to be the 
signal for execution ; the captain said, 
that, being desirous to hoist the colors at 
the moment of execution, at once to give 
solemnity to the act and to indicate by it 
that the colors of the Somers were fixed to 
the mast-head, it was his intention to beat 
to call as for hoisting the colors, then roll 
off, and at the third roll fire a gun. Spen- 
cer asked to be allowed himself to give the 
word to fire the gun; this request was 
granted, and the drum and fife were dis- 
missed. He asked if the gun was under 
him, and was told that it was next but 
one to him. He begged that no interval 
might elapse between giving the word 



and firing the gun. Captain Mackenzie 
asked if they were firing with the lock and 
wafer, which had always proved quick and 
sure, but was told that they had a tube and 
priming, and were prepared to fire with a 
match. Some delay would liave ensued, 
to open the arm chest and get out a wafer. 
The captain ordered a supply of live coals 
to be passed up from the galley, and fresh 
ones continually supplied ; then assured 
Spencer there would be no delay. 

Time still wearing away in this manner, 
Small requested leave to address the crew. 
Spencer, having leave to give the word, 
was asked if he would consent to the 
delay. He assented, and Small's face 
being uncovered, he spoke as follows : 
"Shipmates and topmates! take warning 
by my example. I never was a pirate. I 
never killed a man. It's for saying I 
would do it, that I am about to depart this 
life. See what a word will do ! It was 
going in a Guineaman that brought me to 
this. Beware of a Guineaman." He 
turned to Spencer and said to him, " I am 
now ready to die, Mr. Spencer, are you ? " 
Cromwell's last words were, " Tell my wife 
I die an innocent man; tell Lieutenant 
Morris I die an innocent man ! " It had 
been the game of this leading conspirator 
to appear innocent. 

Captain Mackenzie now jilaced himself 
on a trunk, in a situation from which his 
eye could take in everything, and waited 
for some time ; but no word came. At 
length, the captain was informed that 
Spencer said he could not give the word — 
that he wished the commander to give the 
word himself. The gun was accordimjly 
fired, and the execution took place! The 
three conspirators against their country, 
their flag, their comrades and mankind, 
swung lifeless in the air, from the yard- 
arm ; — a fate richly deserved, at least by 
him who h.id atrociouslj' declared: "I am 
leagued to get possession of the vessel, 
murder the commander and officers, choose 
from among those of the crew who are 
willing to join me such as will be useful, 
murder the rest, and commence pirating ; 
to attack no vessels that I am not sure to 



n 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



423 



capture ; to destroy every vestige of the 
captured vessels ; and to select such of the 
female passengers as are suitable, and, 
after using them sufficiently, to dispose of 
them." 

The crew were now ordered aft, and 
were addressed by Captain Mackenzie, 
from the trunk on which he was standing ; 
after which, the crew were piped down 
from witnessing punishment, and all hands 
called to cheer the ship. Captain Mac- 
kenzie himself gave the order — " Stand hi/ 
to give three heavtij cheers for the flag of 
our country ! " Never were three heartier 
cheers given. On the following Sunday, 
after the laws for the government of the 
navy had been read, as usual on the first 
Sunday of the month, the crew were again 
impressively addressed by Captain Mac- 
kenzie, and, in conclusion, he told them 
that as they had shown that they could 
give cheers for their country, they should 
now give cheers to their God, — for they 



would do this when they sang praises to 
his name. The colors were now hoisted, 
and, above the American ensign, the only 
banner to which it may give place, — the 
banner of the cross. And now, over the 
vasty deep, there resounded that joyous 
song of adoration, the hundredth jjsahn, 
sung by all the officers and crew. 

On the arrival home, of the Somers, the 
tragedy was investigated by a court of 
inquiry, consisting of Commodores Stewart, 
Jacob Jones, and Dallas, and Captain 
Mackenzie's course was fully approved. 
A court-martial was also subsequently 
held, at his personal request, of which 
Commodore John Downes was president, 
and the trial, which lasted forty days, 
resulted in his acquittal. One of the 
ablest reviews of this case, was that 
by Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper, in which 
Mackenzie's course was condemned ; but 
the popular opinion was greatly in his 
favor. 



XL VIII. 

SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF A GREAT AND FIERY COMET 

IN THE SKIES AT NOONDAY.— 1843. 



It Sweep* Through the Heaveng, for Several Weeks, with a Luminous Train 108,000,000 Miles in 
Length.— Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Wliirling Around that Orb with Prodigious Velocity, 
Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum.— Its Mysterious Disappearance in the Unknown 
Realms and Depths of Space —Most Notable of all Comets.— First Visible in the Day-time.— lu 
Conspicuous Aspect.- Strange and Threatening Motion.— Goes Twice Around the Sun.— Their 
Supposed Contact.— Becomes Red in Passing.- Recedes Straight to the Earth — Watched with 
Deep Concern.— The Magnetic Needle Agitated.— Wide Fears of a Collision.— Its Probable Result. 
—Indian Terror and Prediction.— Triumphs of Astronomy.— Diameter of the Comet's Head.— 
Measurement of Its Tail.— Stars Seen Through the Train.— Appearance in the Equator —Like a 
Stream of Molten Fire.— Beautiful Ocean Reflection.— Double Sweep of the Tail.— Other Comet- 
ary Phenomtna. 



" A pathleu comet. 
The mcQftce of the unirene; 
8tUl rolling on with innftle forc*. 
Without a iphere, without ft couim.** 




SUALLY, the name or word ' comet ' is applied to bodies which 
appear in the heavens with a train, or tail, of light ; but it is 
now not uncommon to apply the term to those heavenly bodies, 
beyond the limits of the earth's atmosphere, which are nebulous 
in their appearance, and with or without a tail. It is, however, 
the class first named, which includes the most wonderful ex- 
amples of this phenomenon in modern times; and, in connec- 
tion with the splendid visitant of this kind that appeared in 1843, — almost rivaling, as 
it did, the splendor of the sun itself, — some notice will be appropriate of similar bodies 
which, during the last century, have excited wonder and admiration. 

Without dwelling upon the appearance of those comets which antedate the year 
1800, or upon the corruscations, flickering and vani.shing like northern lights, of the 
comet of 1807, some mention may be made of that of 1811, the finest that, up to the 
time of its appearance, had adorned the heavens since the age of Newton. It was 
noted for its intense brilliancy, and was visible for more than three months in succes- 
sion to the naked eye, shining with great splendor — being, indeed, a comet of the 
first class, in point of magnitude and luminosity. Its brilliant tail, at its greatest 
elongation, had an extent of one hundred and twenty-three millions of miles, by a 
breadth of fifteen millions ; and thus, supposing the nucleus of the comet to have been 
placed on the sun, and the tail in the plane of the orbits of the planets, it would have 
reached over those of Mercury, Venus, the Earth, and have bordered on that of 
Mars. At its nearest approach to us, the comet was yet distant one hundred and forty- 
one millions of miles, so that even had the tail pointed to the earth, its extremity 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



425 



would have been eighteen millions of miles 
away from its surface. Its appearance 
was strikingly ornamental to the evening 
sky, and every eye waited and watched, 
intently, to gaze upon the celestial novelty, 
as it grew into distinctness with the de- 
clining day. The elements of the orbit 
of this comet were accurately computed by 
Professors Bowditch, Farrar and Fisher. 

The comet of 1843 is regarded as, per- 
haps, the most marvelous of the present 
age, having been observed in the day-time 
even before it was visible at night, — pass- 
ing very near the sun, — exhibiting an 
enormous length of tail, — and arousing an 
interest in the public mind as universal 
and deep as it was unprecedented. It 
startled the world by its sudden appari- 
tion in the spring, in the western 
heavens, like a streak of aurora, streaming 
from the region of the sun, below the 
constellation of Orion. It was at first 
mistaken, by multitudes, for the zodiacal 
light; but its aspects and movements soon 
proved it to be a comet of the very largest 
class. There were, too, some persons who, 
without regarding it, like many of the 
then numerous sect called Millerites, as 
foretokening the speedy destruction of the 
world, still could not gaze at it un- 
troubled by a certain nameless feeling of 
doubt and fear. 

From the graphic narrative of a Euro- 
pean traveling at that date in the wilds 
of America, it appears that the Indians 
around him viewed the comet of 1843 as 
the precursor of pestilence and famine. 
One of his companions, Tamanua, a young 
Wapisiana, broke the silence with which 
the whole part}' for some time stared at 
the starry train of the ball of fire^ with 
the exclamation, " This is the Spirit of 
the Stars, the dreadful Capishi — famine 
and pestilence await us ! " The others 
immediately burst into a torrent of vocif- 
eration, lamenting the appearance of the 
dreadful Capishi, and raising, with violent 
gesticulations, their arms towards the 
comet. This comet was visible in Bo- 
logna, Italy, at noon, two diameters of the 
sun's disc east of the sun, while passing 



its perihelion, being then only ninety-six 
thousand miles distant from that lumin- 
ary, and its speed three hundred and sixty 
six miles per second ; so that, in twelve 
minutes, it must have passed over a space 
equal to the distance between the earth 
and the moon. When its distance from 
the sun allowed it to be visible after sun- 
set, it presented an appearance of extraor- 
dinary magnificence. 

But the appearance of this strange 
body, as observed at different points, by 
various scientific observers, has been made 
a portion of the permanent scientific his- 
tory of our country, by Professor Loomis, 
of Yale college, to whose learned investi- 
gations in this department of human 
knowledge, more than one generation is 
largely indebted. In his admirable paper 
on this magnificent comet, he states that 
it was seen in New England as early as 
half-past seven in the morning, and con- 
tinued till after three in the afternoon, 
when the sky became considerably ob- 
scured by clouds and haziness. The 
appearance, at first, was that of a lumin- 
ous globular body with a short train — the 
whole taken together being found by 
measurement about one degree in length. 
The head of the comet, as observed by the 
naked eye, appeared circular ; its light, at 
that time, equal to that of the moon at 
midnight in a clear sky ; and its apparent 
size about one-eighth the area of the full 
moon. Some observers compared it to a 
small cloud strongly illuminated by the 
sun. The train was of a paler light, 
gradually diverging from the nucleus, and 
melting away into the brilliant sky. An 
observer at Woodstock, Vt., viewed the 
comet through a common three-feet tele- 
scope, and found that it presented a dis- 
tinct and most beautiful appearance, ex- 
hibiting a very white and bright nucleus, 
and showing a tail which divided near the 
nucleus into two separate branches. 

At Portland, Me., Captain Clark meas- 
ured the distance of the nucleus from the 
sun, the only measurement, with one ex- 
ception, known to have been made in any 
part of the globe before the third of 



426 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



March. He found that the distance of 
the sun's farthest limb from the nearest 
limb of the comet's nucleus, was four de- 
grees, six minutes, fifteen seconds. At 
Conception, in South America, Captain 
Ray saw the comet on the twenty-seventh 
of Februar)', east of the sun, distant about 
one-sixth of his diameter. The comet was 
seen at Pernambuco, Brazil, and in Van 
Dieman's Land, on the first of March. 
On the second, it was seen in great bril- 
liancy at St. Thomas, and by various 
navigators in the equatorial regions. On 
the evening of the third, it was noticed at 
Key West, and excited much attention. 
On the fourth, it was seen in the latitude 
of New York by a few, and, on the even- 
ing of the fifth, it was noticed very gen- 
erally. 

From this date, until about the close of 
the month, it presented a most magnificent 
spectacle every clear evening, in the ab- 
sence of the moon. As seen near the 
equator, the tail had a darkish line from 
its head through the center to the end. 
It was occasionally' brilliant enough to 
throw a strong light upon the sea. The 
greatest length of tail, as seen there, was 
about the fifth of March, sixty-nine de- 
grees as measured with the sextant, and 
it was observed to have considerable curv- 
ature. One observer described it as an 
elongated birch-rod, slightly curved, and 
having a breadth of one dogrcp. At the 
Cape of Good Hope, March third, it was 
described as a double tail, about twentj'- 
five degrees in length, the two streamers 
making with each other an angle of about 
a qu.arter of a degree, and proceeding from 
the head in perfectly straight lines. In 
the United States, the greatest length of 
tail observed was about fifty degrees. 
Professor Tuttle gives it, as seen through 
the Cambridge telescope, at one hundred 
and eighty millions of miles. The curva- 
ture of the tail upward, though very 
noticeable, scarcely exceeded two degrees. 
The first observation of the nucleus, with 
the exception of the noondaj' observations, 
is believed to have been made at the Cape 
of Good Hope, on the third of March, 



after which it was observed regularly 
until its disappearance. At Trevandrun, 
in India, it was observed from the sixth ; 
at Cambridge, Mass., it was observed on 
the ninth, and at numerous places on the 
eleventh. The first European observation 
of the nucleus was made on the seven- 
teenth, at Rome and Najjles. 

The comet nowhere continued visible 
many days in succession. It was seldom 
seen in Europe after the first of April. 
The last observation at Naples was on the 
seventh. On the fifteenth, at Berlin, 
Professor Encke thought he caught a 
faint glimpse of the comet, but it could 
not be found again on the subsequent 
evening. At Washington, D. C, the 
comet was observed on the morning of 
March sixth. Mr. Maur^- saj-s concerning 
it, that his attention was called to a para- 
graph in the newspapers of that date, 
Mond.iy, stating that a comet was visible 
near the sun at mid-day with the naked 
eye ! The sky was clear ; but not being 
able to discover anything with the unas- 
sisted eye, recourse was had to a telescope, 
though with no better result. About 
sunset in the evening, the examination 
was renewed, but still to no purpose. The 
last faint streak of daj- gilded the west, 
beautiful and delicate fleeces of cloud cur- 
tained the bed of the sun, the upper sky 
was studded with stars, and all hopes of 
seeing the comet that evening had van- 
ished. Soon Jifter the time for retiring, 
however, the comet was observed in the 
west, — a phenomenon sublime and beauti- 
ful. The needle was greatly agitated; 
and a strongly marked ju'iicil of light was 
streaming up from the path of the sun in 
an oblique direction to the southward and 
eastward ; its edges were jiarallcl. Stars 
could be seen twinkling through it, and no 
doubt was at first entertained, that this 
was the tail of the comet. Direction was 
given to search the eastern sky with the 
telescope in the morning, from early dawn 
and before, till sunrise; but nothing, 
strange or uncommon was noticed. Tues- 
day was a beautiful day. The sun was 
clear, gilding, as it sunk below the hills. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



427 



a narrow streak of cloud, seen througli the 
tree-tops beyond the Potomac. The tail 
had appeared of great length for the first 
time the evening hefore ; and the observ- 
ers expected, therefore, to find a much 
greater length to it in the evening follow- 
ing. It was a moment of intense inter- 
est when the first stars began to appear. 
The last rays of the sun still glittered in 
the horizon ; and at this moment, a well 
defined pencil of hairy light was seen 
pointing towards the sun. Soon after six 
o'clock it grew more distinct, and then 
gradually faded away. 

Professor Loomis states that the most 
complete series of observations on this 
comet of 1843, in this country, were made 
by Messrs. Walker and Kendall of Phila- 
delphia, where the comet was followed 
until April tenth. A great many astron- 



perihelion was prodigious. This was such 
as, if continued, would have carried it 
round the sun in two hours and a half ; 
in fact, it did go more than half round the 
sun in this time. In one day — that is, 
from twelve hours before, to twelve hours 
after perihelion passage, — it made two 
hundred and ninety-one degrees of anom- 
alj' ; in other words, it made more than 
three-quarters of its circuit round the sun. 
The head of this comet was exceedingly 
small in comparison with its tail. When 
first discovered, many were unwilling to 
believe it a comet, because it had no head. 
The head was probably nowhere seen by 
the naked eye after the first days of March. 
At the close of March, the head was so 
faint as to render observations somewhat 
difficult even with a good telescope, while 
the tail might still be followed by the 




VIEW OF THE GKEAT »:o.MEr \VHE^ KEARESl" THE EAKiil. 



omers, however, computed the comet's 
orbit, and obtained most extraordinary 
results. The comet receded from the sun 
almost in a straight line, so that it required 
careful observations to determine in which 
direction the comet passed round the sun, 
and some at first obtained a direct orbit, 
when it should have been retrograde. The 
perihelion distance — that is, the least dis- 
tance from the sun, — was extremely small, 
very little exceeding the sun's radius. 
Some obtained a smaller quantity than 
this, but such a supposition seems to in- 
volve an impossibilitj'. It is nevertheless 
certain, that the comet almost grazed the 
sun; perhaps some portion of its nebu- 
losity may have come into direct collision 
with it ! 

The velocity with which the comet 
whirled round the sun at the instant of 



naked eye about tliirtj- degrees. Bessel 
remarked that this comet seemed to have 
exhausted its head in the manufacture of 
its tail. It is not, however, to be hence 
inferred, tliat the tail was really brighter 
than the head, only more conspicuous from 
its greater size. A large object, though 
faint, is much more noticeable than a 
small one of intenser light. 

The nearest approach of the comet's 
head to the earth was about eighty mil- 
lions of miles. The absolute diameter of 
the nebulosity surrounding the head was 
about thirty-six thousand miles. The 
length of the tail was prodigious ; on the 
twenty-eighth of February, it was thirty- 
five millions of miles, and its greatest 
visible length was one hundred and eight 
millions, namely, on the twenty-first of 
March. Stars were easily distinguishable 



428 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



429 



through the luminous train. The visible 
portion of the tail attained its greatest 
length early in March, remained nearly 
stationary for some time, and during the 
first week in April suddenly disajjjJeared, 
from increased distance, without any great 
diminution of length. The tail was 
turned nearly toward the earth on the 
night of February twenty-seventh, in such 
a direction, that had it reached the earth's 
orbit, it would have passed fifteen mil- 
lions of miles south of us. 

Ill regard to the extraordinary bril- 
liancy of this comet, on the twenty-eighth 
of February, it was the opinion of Profes- 
sor Loomis — and no one's opinion could 
have greater authority or weight than 
his, — that this was due to the comet's 
proximity to the sun. The day before, 
it had almost grazed the sun's disc. The 
heat it received, according to the computa- 
tions of Sir John Herschel, must have 
been forty-seven thousand times that re- 
ceived by the earth from a vertical sun ! 
The rays of the sun united in the focus 
of a lens thirty-two inches in diameter, 
and six feet eight inches focal length, have 
melted carnelian, agate and rock crystal. 
The heat to which the comet was sub- 
jected must have exceeded by twentj--five 
times that in the focus of such a lens. 
Such a temperature would have converted 
into vapor almost every substance on the 
earth's surface ; and if anything retained 
the solid form, it would be in a state of 
intense ignition. The comet on the 
twenty-eighth of February was red hot, 
and, for some days after its perihelion, it 
retained a jiecidiar fiery appearance. In 
the equatorial regions, the tail is described 
as resembling a stream of fire from a fur- 
nace. 

Such are some of the principal facts 
concerning this most wonderful comet of 
modern times, according to the investiga- 
tions made by Loomis, — also by Bond, 
Walker, Mitchell, Joslin, Hitchcock, and 
others, and which is significantly and de- 
servedly called " the Great Comet." 

In 1847, another remarkable comet, 
visible to the naked eye, made its appear- 



ance in the constellation Andromeda. In 
the early part of February, it shone as a 
star of the fourth magnitude, with a tail 
extending about four degrees from the 
nucleus. The distance of the comet from 
the sun's surface, on the evening of March 
thirtieth, was only about three and a half 
millions of miles. The cometic nebulosity 
was about sixty-five thousand miles in 
diameter, and that of the more condensed 
central part, eight thousand miles. The 
length of tail was far less than that of the 
comet of 1843. Of this comet, a full page 
plate illustrates this article, showing, in a 
peculiar manner, the supernal splendor 
characterizing this mysterious order of the 
heavenly bodies. 

The comet of 1853 was clearly visible 
to the naked eye, and had a well de- 
fined nucleus and tail. On investigation, 
astronomers failed to identify this comet 
with any previous one. Its brilliant 
nucleus and long train made it very con- 
spicuous, — indeed, one of the largest and 
most beautiful on record. The actual 
diameter of the bright nucleus was eight 
thousand miles, or about equal to that of 
the earth. Its nearest distance to the 
earth at any one time was sixty-eight 
millions of miles. 

In September, 1858, Donati's celebrated 
comet made its appearance, and was for 
weeks a wonder in the skies, at which the 
whole nation gazed with deep and intense 
interest. The great astronomers, Loomis, 
Peirce, George P. Bond, William C. Bond, 
Tuttle, Norton, Hubbard, Safford, and 
Gould, made learned observations of the 
celestial visitor. The nucleus was very 
brilliant, the tail prodigious. A star of 
the first magnitude might have rivaled 
the illumination of this comet, but noth- 
ing less was worthy a comparison. The 
tail had a curve like a scimitar ; but its 
end was shadowy, faint, tremulous, and 
uncertain. The view from twilight until 
deep dark, was magnificent. On the 
twentieth of October, the first of a series 
of extraordinary phenomena manifested 
itself in the region contiguous to the nu- 
cleus. A crescent-shaped outline, obscure 



430 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



and very narrow, was interspersctl, like a 
screen, between the nucleus and the sun ; 
within this, instead of a softly-bleuded 
nebulous light, indicative of an undis- 
turlied condition of eijuilibriuni, the liery 
mass was in a state of apparent commo- 
tion, as tliough upheaved by the action of 
violent internal forces. On the twenty- 
third, two dark outlines were traced more 
than half waj' round the nucleus, and on 
the next evenin}» still another. Other 
envelopes were subsequently formed, their 
motion of projection from the nucleus 
being evident from night to night. The 
rapiility of their formation, and the enor- 
mous extent to which they were ultimately 
expanded, constituted a remarkable feat- 
ure, diflScult of explanation. The comet 




TEUESCOPIO VIEW OF THE COMET. 

was nearest to the sun — fifty-five millions 
of miles, — September thirtieth ; nearest 
to the earth — fifty-two millions of miles, 
— October twelfth. Its tail was fifty-one 
millions of miles in length. 

So sudden was the apparition of the 
splendid comet of 1861, that though observ- 
ations made at Harvard college observa- 
tory, June twenty-ninth, failed to detect it, 
it was, on the succeeding evening, the most 
conspicuous object in the western sky. On 



the second of Jul}-, after twilight, the 
head, to the naked eye, appeared much 
brighter than a star of the first magni- 
tude, — about the same in brightness as 
the great comet of 1858. The aspect of 
the tail was that of a narrow, straight 
ray, projected to a distance of one hun- 
dred and six degrees from the nucleus, 
being easily distinguishable quite up to 
the borders of the milky way. The 
boundaries, for the most part, were well 
defined, and easily traced among the 
stars. Further observations on the tail 
made it evident that a diffuse, dim light, 
with very uncertain outlines, ai)parently 
composed of hazy filaments, swept off in 
a strong curve towards the stars in the 
tail of Ursa Major. This was evidently 
a broad, curved tail, intersected on its 
curved side at the distance of a few de- 
grees from the nucleus or head, by the 
long straight ray, which, at the first 
glance, from its greatly superior bright- 
ness, seemed alone to constitute the tail. 
The whole issue of nebulous matter from 
the nucleus far into the tail was curiousl}' 
grooved and striated. On the second of 
July, portions of three luminous en- 
velopes were visible. They rapidly faded, 
or were lost in the surrounding haze, and 
their places were filled by new ones. The 
investigations of Messrs. Safford, Hall, 
and Tuttle, show the diameter of the head 
of this comet to have been variously esti- 
mated at from one hundred and fifty to 
three or four hundred miles. On the 
second of July, the breadth of the head 
of the nucleus was one liundred and fifty- 
six thousand miles, and the length of the 
tail about fifteen millions of miles. 




XLIX. 
EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD.— 1843. 



Miller's Exciting Prediction of the Second Advent of Christ. — The Speedy Fulfillment of the Latter- 
Day Bible Prophecies Boldly Declared — Zealous Promulgation of His Views — Scores of Thousands 
of Converts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by Many for the Coming 
Event. — The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. — His Deism in Early Life. — 
Studies History and Scripture. — Is Struck by the Prophecies. — Reads Daniel and John Critically. — 
Calculates Their Time. — " About 1843 " the Consummation. — Basis of these Conclusions. — Reluc- 
tantly Begins to Lecture. — Interesting Incident. — His Labors and Enthusiasm. — Three Thousand Lec- 
tures in Ten Years. — Secret of His Great Success. — Approach of the Final Day. — Cessation of Secular 
Pursuits. — Encamping in the Fields, in Grave-yards and on Roofs — Some Curious Extravagances. 
— Rebuked by Miller. — Repeated Disappointments. — Misinterpretation of Texts. — Miller, as a Man 
and Preacher. — His Calm and Happy Death. 



" I confess my error, and acTtnowledge my disappointment: yet I still believe that tlie day of the Lord is near, even at the door."— Mil- 
ler's Fi.vAL Words to his Followers. 




EW men have attained a wider 
name or more rapid and remark- 
able note, in tlie American relig- 
ious world, than Rev. William 
Miller, " the prophet," — as he was 
familiarly called, — founder of the 
sect called by his name, and also 
known as " Second Adventists." 
A sketch of the public career of 
Mr. Miller, and of the biblical 
grounds upon which he based his 
earnest and confident prediction of 
the end of the world about the 
year 1843, together with some 
account of the extraordinary 
scenes which characterized that 
exciting period, — participated in 
THE GREAT DAY PROPHESIED i)v THE SECOND ADVENTISTS. bj teus of thousands of ardcut and 
enthusiastic believers in Mr. Miller's views, — will be found in the following pages. 

Mr. Miller was born in Pittsfield, Mass., in 1782, and, when he was four years of age, 
his father removed to Low Hampton, in the state of New York. At the age of twenty- 
two, he settled in Poultney, Vt., and was a deputy-sheriff for that county. Taking 



432 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



a inilitarj- turn, he received from Governor 
Galuslia a lieutenant's commission, and, on 
the breaking out of the second war with 
England, he was made captain, by Presi- 
ident Madison. He remained in the 
United States army until the declaration 
of peace, taking a courageous part in the 
action at Plattsburg, where the British 
were so sorely worsted. After the close of 
the war, he returned to his home, where 
for several years he held the office of a jus- 
tice of the peace. 

In the community where he lived, Mr. 
Miller was regarded with much esteem, as 
a benevolent, intelligent man, and a kind 
neighbor. He had only a common school 
education, but was a person of more than 
ordinary talent. In his religious views, 
Mr. Miller was an avowed deist, until 
about his thirty-fourth year, when his 
views and feelings experienced such a 
change as led him to unite with the Bap- 
tist church. For many years he was a 
most assiduous student of history and the 
scriptures, in the study of which he be- 
came impressed with the conviction that 
the fifth monarchy predicted by Daniel to 
be given to the people of the saints of the 
Most High, under the whole heaven, for 
an everlasting possession, — as represented 
in the seventh chapter of that prophecy — 
was about to be consummated. 

His views — though he at no time claimed 
to be, in any sense, a prophet, — ^were sub- 
stantially as follows : That Jesus Christ 
will appear a second time in 1843, in the 
clouds of heaven ; that he would then raise 
the righteous dead, and judge them 
together with the righteous living, who 
would be caught up to meet him in the 
air; that he would purify the earth with 
fire, causing the wicked and all their 
works to be consumed in the general con- 
flagration, and would shut up their souls 
in the place prepared for the devil and his 
angels ; that the saints would live and 
reign with Christ, on the new earth, a thou- 
sand years; that then Satan and the 
wicked spirits would be let loo.ie, and the 
wicked dead be raised — this being the 
second resurrection, — and, being judged, 



should make war upon the saints, be 
defeated, and cast down to hell forever. 

It becoming known that he entertained 
these views, he was importuned by many 
to write out his opinions, and afterwards 
to go before the public with them. After 
declining so to do for a long time, he at 
length complied, by writing a series of 
articles, in 1831, in the Vermont Tele- 
graph. In 1832, he sent forth a synopsis 
of his views in a pamphlet, and subse- 
quently, in obedience to conscientious con- 
victions of duty, he commenced as a public 
lecturer on prophecy. 

He thus describes his reluctance to 
appear in public, and the occasion of his 
first attempt : "One Saturday, after break- 
fast, in the summer of 1833, I sat down at 
mj' desk to examine some point, and as I 
arose to go out to work, it came home to 
me with more force than ever, ' Go and tell 
it to the world.' The impression was so 
sudden, and came with such force, that I 
settled down into my chair, saying, 'I 
can't go, Lord.' ' Why not ? ' seemed to 
be the response ; and then all my excuses 
came up, my want of ability, etc. ; but my 
distress became so great, I entered into a 
solemn covenant with God, that, if he 
would open the way, I would go and per- 
form my duty to the world. ' What do 
you mean by opening the way?' seemed 
to come to me. ' Why,' said I, ' if I should 
have an invitation to speak publicly in 
any place, I will go and tell them what I 
find in the Bible about the Lord's coming.' 
Instantly all my burden was gone, and I 
rejoiced that I should not probably be thus 
called upon, for I had never had sudi an 
invitation. My trials were not known, 
and I had but little expectation of being 
invited to any field of labor. In about 
half an hour from this time, before I bad 
left the room, a son of Mr. Guilford, of 
Dresden, about sixteen miles from my res- 
idence, came in and said that his father 
had sent for me, and wished me to go 
home with him. Supposing that he wished 
to see me on some business, I asked him 
what he wanted. He replied, that there 
was to be no preaching in their church the 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



433 



next day, and his father wished to have 
me come and talk to the people on the 
subject of the Lord's coming. I was 
immediately angry with myself for having 
made the covenant I had; I rebelled at 
once against the Lord, and determined 
not to go. I left the boy, without giving 
him any answer, and retired in great dis- 
tress to a grove near by. There I strug- 
gled with the Lord for about an hour, 
endeavoring to release myself from the 
covenant I had made with him, but could 
get no relief. It was impressed upon my 



at the close of a lecturing tour in the spring 
of 1843, Mr. Miller remarks in his journal, 
that, up to that time, he had given three 
thousand two hundred lectures ! 

An interesting reminiscence of Mr. 
Miller's early career, is related by his 
biographer as having occurred soon after 
the publication of his views in pamphlet 
form. As he was passing down the 
Hudson river, in a steam-boat, a company 
of men standing near him were conversing 
respecting the wonderful improvements of 
the day. One of them remarked, that it 




S^TUBOLICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE SECOND ADVENT PROPHECIES. 



conscience, ' Will j'ou make a covenant 
with God, and break it so soon ? ' and the 
exceeding sinfulness of thus doing over- 
whelmed me. I finally submitted ; and 
promised the Lord that if he would sustain 
me, I would go, trusting in him to give 
me grace and ability to perform all he 
sliould require of me. I returned to the 
house, and found the boy still waiting ; he 
remained till after dinner, and I returned 
with him to Dresden." Such was the be- 
ginning. And yet, ten years after, namelj-, 
'28 



was impossible for things to progress, for 
thirty j'ears to come, in the same ratio that 
they had done; "for," said he, "man will 
attain to something more than human." 
Mr. Miller replied to him, that it reminded 
him of Dan. 12: 4. — 'Many shall run to 
and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.' 
A pause ensuing, Mr. Miller continued, 
and observed that the improvements of the 
present day were just what we should 
expect at this time, in the fulfillment of 
Daniel's prophecy. He then commenced 



434 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



with the eleventh chapter of Daniel, and, 
comparing the projjhec}' with the history, 
showed its fulfillment — all listening with 
close attention. He then remarked, that 
he had not intended trespassing so long 
on their patience, and, leaving them, 
walked to the other end of the boat. The 
entire company followed, and wished to 
hear more on the subject. He then took 
up the second, seventh, eighth and ninth 
chapters of Daniel. His hearers wished 
to know if he had ever written on the sub- 
ject. He told them he had jiublished the 
above pamphlet, and distributed among 
them what copies he had with him. This 
was otic of his first audiences, and some 
gentlemen of high standing listened to his 
remarks. 

In 1836, a volume of Mr. Miller's lec- 
tures was published and widely circulated. 
Early in 1838, a copy of these lectures fell 
into the hands of Rev. J. Litch, a talented 
minister of the Methodist Episcopal 
church, who soon after published a pam- 
phlet entitled the Midnight Cry, proclaim- 
ing the second coming of Christ about the 
year 1843. He also commenced preaching 
the same doctrine, with great success, and 
published several works of marked ability. 
Another prominent receiver of the doctrine 
was Rev. J. V. Himes, an accomplished 
preacher of the Christian Connection, and 
whose writings on the newly promulgated 
views evinced much power of reasoning 
and scholarly research. 

The volume of lectures by Mr. Miller 
had a large circulation, as did also the 
publication called the Signs of the Times. 
In October, 1840, the first general confer- 
ence of Second Advent believers was held 
in Chardon street chapel, Boston. During 
the winter of 1841 — 1842, conferences 
were numerous throughout New England, 
and, in 1842, the standard was raised in 
the city of New York, by a series of meet- 
ings in Apollo hall, l^roadway, held by 
Messrs. Miller and Himes. During the 
summer of that year, public excitement 
greatly increased, and multitudes of preach- 
ers and speakers were in the field. Finally, 
a large tent was constructed, capable of 



holding four thousand persons, in which 
meetings were held at Concord, Albany, 
Sjiringfield, Newark, and other places. 
The work spread with a power unpantl- 
leled in the history' of religious move- 
ments; and this, notwithstanding the ridi- 
cule and other weapons of opposition 
wielded against it by almost all the lead- 
ing religious and secular journalists in the 
I)rincipal cities, whose influence was very 
great. Perhaps the simple secret of Mr. 
Miller's wonderful success, was his bring- 
ing prominently forward a somewhat neg- 
lected but vividly imjiortant truth. 

The number of believers had now 
reached scores of thousands. The basis of 
their expectation relative to the speedy 
dissolution of the world was, that, accord- 
ing to the results of chronological research, 
it aii])eai-('d that the captivity of ^lanusseh, 
the commencement of the " seven times," 
or 2520 years of Leviticus xxvi., was 
B. C. 677, also the captivitj' of Jehoia- 
kim, the commencement of the Great 
Jubilee, or 2450 years, was B. C. 607 ; 
also the decree to rebuild Jerusalem in the 
seventh of Artaxerxes, the commencement 
of the seventy weeks and 2300 daj'S of 
Daniel vni. and ix., was given B. C. 
457; and also the taking awa^' of pagan- 
ism in Rome, the commencement of the 
1335 days of Daniel xii. Reckoning from 
these several dates, it was believed that'tlie 
respective periods could extend onlj' to 
about the Jewish year 1843. 

Thus, all the calculations of prophetic 
time were understood by the Second Ad- 
ventists to end in 1843. But what par- 
ticular time, in that year, was a matter of 
uncertainty. Some supposed one da}' or 
season, some another. It was Mr. Miller's 
opinion, that the seventy weeks ended 
with the crucifixion, in A. D. 33; conse- 
quently, that the whole time would end 
with its anniversary, in 1843. Still, he was 
not satisfied as to the exactness of the cal- 
culation, and hence, from the outset, 
expressed him.self, "about 1843;" indeed, 
in the year 1839, he remarked that he was 
not positive that the event would trans- 
pire in the spring of 1^3 — he should 




GREAT A^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



435 



claim the wliole of the Jewish year, until 
March 21, 1844. 

But, ill opposition to the views thus held 
by Mr. Miller and his able co-laborers, 
Hiines, Litch, and other commentators, a 
host of learned writers appeared, including 
representatives of all the Christian denom- 
inations — though even among these, there 
was 110 slight diversity of opinion as to the 
scope and meaning of the prophecies, and, 
in respect to the correctness of some of the 
points held by Mr. Miller, no objections 
were advanced. The usual strain of argu- 
ment used by the opponents of Mr. Mil- 
ler's rendering of the scriptures was as 
follows : — That the Lord cannot come until 
after the millennium, during which the 
whole world is to be righteous, and the 
lion eat straw like the ox, etc. ; that the 
Jews must be brought in, and restored to 
Palestine, before that da^' comes ; that it 
is to come as a thief in the night — -sudden, 
unanticipated, unlocked for ; that the 
world and the human race being as yet in 
their infancj', so far as moral and material 
development is concerned, it could not be 
reasonably expected that the Lord would 
come to destroy the world. 

But the great opposing argument 
brought to bear against the new views, 
was, that the vision in the eighth chapter 
of Daniel, has nothing to do with the 
coming of Christ, or setting up of God's 
everlasting kingdom ; that Antiochus 
Epiphanes, a Syrian king, is the hero 
of Daniel's vision, in the eighth chapter, 
and that the 2300 days are but half days, 
amounting tu 1150 literal days, all of 
which were literally fulfilled by Antiochus, 
— his persecution of the Jews, and dese- 
cration of the temple, about one hundred 
and sixty years B. C. 

Tlie earliest date fixed upon by any of 
the Adventists as a probable time for the 
Lord's coming (as stated by Mr. Litch, 
one of the ablest and most reliable author- 
ities), was February tenth, forty-five years 
from the time the French army took Rome, 
in 1708. The next point, and the one 
which was thought the more probable, was 
February fifteenth, the anniversary of the 



abolition of the papal government, and the 
erection of the Roman Republic. Viewing 
this to be the termination of the 1290 
daj's of Daniel xil. 11, they believed 
forty-five years more would terminate the 
1335 days of verse 12. Accordingly, 
expectation with many was on tiptoe, fully 
believing that the great day of the Lord 
would then break upon the world. But 
both those periods came and passed with 
no unusual occurrence. At this result, 
much thoughtless ridicule was indulged in 
by some of the newspaper press, and exag- 
gerated accounts given of the believers in 
the doctrine waiting in their white ascen- 
sion robes to be caught up in the air, or 
going to the tops of the houses, or into the 
grave-yards, to watch. Very few, however, 
were so much shaken by their disappoint- 
ment in the passing of the time, as to go 
back and give up the doctrine. Their 
confidence, as well as their religious sin- 
cerity, was beyond suspicion. 

The fifteenth of February passed, the 
next epoch which presented itself as a 
leading point of time, was the Passover, 
the season of the year when the crucifix- 
ion took place. This was looked upon by 
many as being a strongly marked era, on 
account of its being the occasion when 
God delivered his people from Egypt, four 
hundred and thirty years from Abraham's 
sojourn — and, because on that feast the 
crucifixion took place. This latter event, 
according to the belief of many, ended the 
seventy weeks of Daniel ix. 24. Hence, 
they argued, the 2300 days would termi- 
nate when the same feast arrived in 1843, 
and the Savior would come. The four- 
teenth of April, therefore, was a point of 
time anticipated with the deepest solici- 
tude by many. They had the fullest con- 
fidence that it would not pass without 
bringing the expected crisis. Others, 
again, looked forward to the season of the 
Ascension, or Feast of Pentecost, as being 
the most likely time for the advent. But 
disappointment attended these, as it had 
previous, expectations. Still, the zeal of 
the disciples did not fail them ; and, at the 
east, west, and south, the same enthusiasm 



436 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



was manifested by the promulgators of the 
doctrine that '• the end of all things is at 
hand." 

As already stated, Mr. Miller's expecta- 
tions as to the time of the fulfillment of 
the prophetic periods, extended to the 
close of the Jewish year 1843, which would 
be March twenty-first, 1844 ; and, on fur- 
ther reflection, gave considerable weight 
to the consideration that the tenth day of 
the seventh month of the current Jewish 
year, which, following the reckoning of the 
Caraite Jews, fell on the twenty-second of 
October, was the probable termination of 
several prophetic periods, and, therefore, 
would very likely usher in the great and 
last day. Thus it was, that, on the sixth 
of October, he wrote : " If Christ does not 
come within twenty or twenty-Jive days, I 
shall feel twine the disappointment J did 
in the spring." With great unanimity, as 
well as honestly and heartily, was this 
view accepted by his followers. Indeed, 
the feeling was everywhere intense, among 
them. For some days preceding the time 
designated, their secular business was, for 
the most part, suspended ; and those who 
looked for the advent, gave themselves to 
the work of preparation for that event, as 
they would for death, were they on a bed 
of sickness. 

In regard to the extravagances eliarac- 
terizing this movement, the published 
accounts are declared by the friends of 
Mr. Miller to have been, for the most part, 
gross misstatements, and that hundreds of 
reports relating to excesses, had no found- 
ation in fact. Even so generally fair and 
discriminating a writer as Sir Charles 
Lyell, who was traveling in America 
while the advent excitement was at its 
height, states that several houses were 
pointed out to him, between Plymouth 
(Massachusetts) and Boston, the owners 
of which had been reduced from ease to 
poverty by their credulity, having sold 
their all toward building the Tabernacle, 
in which the}' were to pray incessantly for 
six weeks previous to their ascension. 
Among other stories, also, industriously 
circulated, was that of a young girl who. 



having no money, was induced to sell her 
necklace, which had been presented her 
by lier betrothed. The jeweler, seeing 
that she was much affected at parting with 
her treasure, and discovering the circum- 
stances and object of the sale, showed her 
some silver forks and spoons, on which he 
was about to engrave the initials of the 
very minister whose duj)e she was, and 
those of the lady he was about to marry on 
a fixed day after the fated twenty-second 
of October. 

While traveling in New Hanijishire, 
Lyell states that lie was told bj' a farmer 
in one of the country villages, that, in the 
course of the preceding autumn, many of 
his neighbors would neither reap their 
harvest of corn and potatoes, nor let others 
take in the crop, saying it was tempting 
Providence to store up grain for a season 
that could never arrive, the great catas- 
trophe being so near at hand. He adds, 
that in several townships in this and the 
adjoining states, the local officers, or se- 
lectmen, interfered, harvesting the crops 
at the public expense, and requiring the 
owners, after the twentv-third of October, 
to repay them for the outlay. So bitter 
was the opposition in some places, that 
offensive missiles were thrown at the pub- 
lic speakers, and their names coupled with 
those of such impostors as Matthias, Cal- 
laway, Folger, Orr, etc. 

That irregularities of one kind and an- 
other attended a rcligiou.s movement so 
wide-spread, intense and enthusiastic, as 
this, is not to be wondered at; but it is 
doubtless true that the majority of the 
incidents thus circulated were the easy 
inventions of opponents. The most nota- 
able incident was that which occurred in 
Philadelphia. In opposition to the earnest 
expostulations of Mr. Litch and other 
judicious and influential persons, a com- 
pany of about one hundred and fifty, re- 
sponding to the pretended '• vision " of one 
Georgas, on the twenty-first of October 
went out on the Darbj* street road, about 
four miles from Market street bridge, and 
encamped in a field under two large tents, 
provided with all needed comforts. The 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



437 



next morning, their faith in the vision 
having failed, all but about a dozen re- 
turned to the city; a few daj^s later, the 
others returned. This act met the em- 
phatic disapproval of Mr. Miller, and of 
the Adventists generally. 

This day, too, — the only specific day 
which was regarded by the more intelligent 
Adventists with any positiveness, — also 
passed, peaceful and quiet, as other days ; 
as, likewise, did the time in September, 
1847, which some fixed upon, on the ground 
that chronologers differed three or four 
years in the dates of this world's history. 
In reviewing these facts and results of the 
past, Mr. Miller wrote : " Were I to live 
my life over again, with the same evidence 
that I then had, to be honest with God 
and man I should have to do as I have 
done. I confess my error, and acknowl- 
edge my disappointmeyit : yet I still be- 
lieve that the day of the Lord is near, 
even at the door." 

The speedy coming of the Lord, and the 
approaching end of all things, being so fre- 
quently and explicitly declared in scripture, 
it is no wonder that there should continue 
to be found a body of believers making 
that important truth, and the duties grow- 
ing out of it, a primary point in their 
religion. Though less numerous than 
formerly, they are still to be found in con- 
siderable numbers, with many earnest 
preachers ; their chief organ has been the 
Advent Herald, published in Boston, and 
conducted with much decorum and ability. 
It is not surprising that a man of Mr. 
Miller's strong and ardent temperament, 
should live and die in the same belief 
which he had promulgated with such evi- 
dent sincerity ; for, while acknowledging, 
as events proved, the want of accuracy in 
his chronological calculations — he still 
claimed, to the end of his days, that the 
nature and nearness of the crisis were sus- 
tained by scriptural evidence. He died 
a peaceful and happy death, at the age 
of sixty-eight, in the year 1849, and an 
admirably fair and well-written biography 
of him, from the pen of Mr. Himes, ap- 
peared soon after. 



As a man, Mr. Miller is described as 
strictly temperate in all his habits, 
devoted in his family and social attach- 
ments, and proverbial for his integrity. 
He was naturally verj' amiable in his tem- 
perament, affable and attentive to all, — a 
kind-heartedness, simplicity, and power, 
peculiarly original, characterizing his 
manner. He was of about medium stature, 
a little corpulent; hair, a light glossy 
brown; countenance full and round, with 
a peculiar depth of expression in his blue 
eye, of shrewdness and love. 




As a preacher, Mr. Miller was generally 
spoken of as convincing his hearers of his 
sincerity, and instructing them by his 
reasoning and information. All acknowl- 
edge that his lectures were replete with 
useful and interesting matter, showing a 
knowledge of scripture very extensive and 
minute — that of the prophecies, especially, 
being surprisinglj- familiar; and his ap- 
plication of the great prophecies to the 
great events which have taken place in the 
moral and natural world, was, to saj' the 
least, ingenious and plausible. There was 
nothing verj' peculiar in his manner; his 
gestures were easy and expressive ; his 
style decorous, simple, natural, and forci- 
ble. He was alwaj^s self-possessed and 
ready ; distinct in his utterance, and fre- 
quently quaint in his observations ; in the 
management of his subject, exhibiting 
much tact, holding frequent colloquies with 
the objector and inquirer, supplj'ing the 
questions and answers himself in a very 



438 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



apposite manner, and, although grave him- 
self, sometimes producing u smile upon 
the faces of his auditors. Much hlame 
was cast upon Mt. Miller, by some of liis 
opponents, for not contenting himself with 
a quiet and unostentatious avowal of his 
views, instead of traveling over the whole 
country, and inaugurating the " noisy and 
boisterous system of camj)-mcetings" in 
connection with so solemn a theme. But, 
that these camp-meetings did not partake 
of the obnoxious qualities thus charged, 
will appear — from one example at least, — 
by the following account, written by John 
G. AVhittier, one of the most enlightened 
and impartial of observers: — 

On my way eastward (says Mr. Whittier), 
I spent an hour or two at a cami)-grouiul of 
the Second Advent in East Kingston (N. 
H.) The spot was well chosen. A tall 
growth of pine and hemlock threw its mel- 
ancholy shadow over the multitude, who 
were arranged on rough seats of boards and 
logs. Several hundred — perhaps a thou- 
sand — people were present, and more were 
rapidly coming. Drawn about in a circle, 
forming a background of snowy whiteness 
to the dark masses of men and foliage, 
were the white tents, and back of them the 
provision stalls and cook shops. When 
I reached the ground, a hymn, the words 
of which I could not distinguish, was peal- 
ing throng!) the dim aisles of the forest. I 
know nothing of music, having neither ear 
nor taste for it — but I could readily see 
that it had its effect upon the multitude 
before mc, kindling to higlier intensity 
their already excited enthusiasm. The 
preachers were placed in a rude pulpit of 



rough boards, carpeted only by the dead 
forest leaves, and flowers, and tasseled, not 
with silk and velvet, but with tlie green 
bouglis of the somber hemlocks around it. 
One of them followed the music in an earn- 
est exhortation on the duty of preparing for 
the great event. Occasionally, he was really 
eloquent, and his description of the last day 
had all the terrible distinctness of Anellis's 
painting of the ' End of the World.' 

Suspended from the front of the rude 
pulpit were two broad sheets of canvas, 
uj)on one of which was the figure of a 
man, — the head of gold, the breast and 
arms of silver, the belly of brass, the legs 
of iron, and feet of clay, — the dream of 
Nebuchadnezzar ! On the other were 
depicted the wonders of the Apocalyptic 
vision — the beasts — the dragons — the scar- 
let woman seen by the seer of Patmos — 
oriental tj-pes and figures and mystic 
symbols translated into staring Yankee 
realities, and exhibited like the beasts of a 
traveling menagerie. One horrible image, 
with its hideous heads and scaly caudal 
extremity, reminded me of the treniendous 
line of Milton, wlio, in speaking of the same 
evil dragon, describes him as "Swinge- 
ing the scaly horrors of his folded tail." 
To an imaginative mind the scene was 
full of novel interest. The white circle of 
tents — the dim wood arches — the upturned, 
earnest faces — the loud voices of the 
speakers, burdened with the awful sym- 
bolic language of the Bible — the smoke 
from the fires rising like incense from 
forest altars, — carried one back to the days 
of primitive worship, when "The groves 
were God's first temples." 



L. 

AWFUL EXPLOSION OF COMMODORE STOCKTON'S 

GREAT GUN, THE "PEACEMAKER," ON BOARD 

THE U. S. STEAMSHIP PRINCETON.— 1844. 



The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. — Miraculous 
Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoyment to the Extreme 
of Woe. — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship. — Her Model and Armament. 
— Styled the Pride of the Navy. — Invitations for a Grand Gala Day. — President Tyler Attends. — 
Countless Dignitaries on Board. — Array of Female Beauty. — Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing 
of the Monster Gun. — Its Perfect Success. — " One More Shot ! " by Request. — A Stunning and Mur- 
derous Blast. — Bursting of the Gun, — Death all Around. — Frightful Shrieks and Groans — Scattering 
of Mangled Remains. — Agony of Woman's Heart. — Standing Place of the President. — Absent Just 
One Moment — The Dead in Union Flags. — Funeral at tlie White House. 



*' My tongue would fail me to ezpresB, and my pen to portray, the e^oniziog heart-ttlroes— the mingled wa;ling8 and frenzy — ot that 
awful hour."— PltBSIDENT Tylek. 




VKELY is there found in the pages of a huii- 
dreil years' history, the record of a 
more awful catastroplie — shocking, 
indeed, in all its circumstances, 
concomitants, and results — than 
that which occurred on board the 
ship Princeton, Commodore Stock- 
ton, on the afternoon of February 
twenty-eighth, 1844, whilst under 
way, on the river Potomac, some 
fifteeen miles below Washington. 
This war steamer had just been 

.STOCKTON'S GREAT GUN, " TUE PEACEMAKER." , j. J • i.1 -j. i^ T>1,'1 

constructed m the city ot I'hila- 
delphia, according to improved plans enthusiastically advocated by Captain Stockton, 
who had also superintended the casting of the guns — on a new principle and of prodig- 
ious size and power — constituting the steamship's armament. It was principally to 
exhibit the superiority of these new and formidable weapons of war, in the preparation 
of which Stockton had so long been engaged, and of the perfection of which he had, by 
repeated tests and experiments, thoroughly satisfied himself, that he issued cards of 
invitation to a large and brilliant company, of both sexes, to visit the magnificent ship 
and go on an excursion down the river. He had on successive daj's, previously, extended 
this courtesy to various congressional committees and other officials, but this was to be 
the gala day on the decks of that most stupendous and beautiful ship ever beheld on the 
waters of the Potomac. 



TUE PEACEMAKER." 



440 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(5-1876. 



Little did any one among that gay and 
splendid throng anticipate a sudden trans- 
ition from the height of human enjoy- 
ment to the extreme of wailing, anguish, 
and death ! 

The day was remarkably fine, the sun 
rising clear and bright, and Washington 
from early in the morning presented a gay 
and busy scene. Nearly all the carriages 
were engaged, and freighted with the love- 
liness, beauty and grace of the city. 
About eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Mr. 
Tyler, the president of the United States, 
as chief guest, Mrs. Robert Tyler, Miss 
Cooper, Mr. John Tyler. Jr., — all from the 




)'ai/^%&rr- 



\j 



executive mansion, — with a large number 
of officers in glittering uniforms, all the 
members of tlie cabinet e.\cept Mr. Spen- 
cer, many other high functionaries of state, 
senators and rej>resentatives, quite a num- 
ber of attiirltcs and secretaries of lega- 
tion. General Allmonte, minister from 
Mexico (Sir Riclianl Packeiiliam had been 
invited, but declined,) and others, to the 
number of some four hundred, were assem- 
bled on the deck of one of the steamers 
plying between Washington and Alexan- 
dria, fast bearing down for the latter place. 
Ojjposite the navy yard, a boat load of 
musicians were taken on board, who, as 
the company approached Alexandria, and 
the Princeton hove in sight, struck up 
'Hail Columbia,' while the convoy was 
describing a graceful curve under the bow 



of the splendid war steamer, to view lier 
in all her pride of architectural model, — 
the Hags of every nation streaming in the 
brightness of the meridian sun from every 
mast, and her yards manned to return the 
cheers that were uttered l>v the happy 
guests as the^- neared her side. 

They now approached the Princeton on 
her larboard side, and came quite close to 
her. A bridge was soon made from the 
hurricane deck to the great steamship, and 
the ladies and gentlemen received by the 
officers on deck, and conducted to Captain 
Stockton, who was in full uniform. The 
band now struck up the ' Star Spangled 
Banner,' the marines presented arms, and 
as soon as the company were on board, a 
salute of twenty-one guns was fired, the 
band still playing national airs; and it 
was quite amusing to see how many ladies 
remained on deck to witness the naval 
maneuvers and evolutions, although they 
had been politely requested to step down, 
so as not to be annoyed by the smell of the 
powder, or the noise of the report. Sump- 
tuous, too, was the banquet spread before 
tliis gay and brilliant comiiany. 

In the meanwhile, the Princeton hove 
anchor and made sail, bearing down for 
Fort Washington and Jlount Vernon — her 
sailing qualities being admired by all. 
Past Fort Washington, where the Potomac 
expands, presenting sufficient scope for 
the [lower of the Princeton's big guns, the 
forward gun was shotted and fired, the 
ball striking the water and rebounding 
five or six times, till the eye could no 
longer follow its progress. An eye-witness 
of this experiment — a newspaper corre- 
spondent — states, that, in order to observe 
the effect of the shot, he posted himself on 
the nearest larboard cannonade gun, and, 
by the side of this, a kind of scaffolding 
had been erected b3' the sailors, for the 
ladies to stand on. One or two ladies had 
taken their position there, and, close by, 
stood Mr. Secretary Upshur, intent upon 
witnessing tlie whole scene. The corre- 
spondent offered his place to the secretary, 
but the latter declined, saying he preferred 
to stand where he was — the precise s])ot 



GREA.T AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



441 



where, an hour afterward, he was torn to 
pieces. 

Captain Stockton's great gun — called 
ironically "the Peacemaker," — was now 
again loaded with shot, and another trial 
made of its strength and efficiencj-. The 
gun was pointed to leeward, and behind it 
stood Captain Stockton ; a little to the left 
of him, Mr. J. Washington T^-son, assist- 
ant postmaster-general. By the side of 
the latter, a little behind him, stood Mr. 
Strickland, of Philadelphia ; and a little to 
the right of, but behind him, Colonel 
Benton, of Missouri, who had a lady at his 
arm ; and Judge S. S. Phelps, senator 
from Vermont. To the leeward of the gun 
stood Judge Upshur, the secretary of 
state ; also Governor Gilmer, the secretary 
of the navj', who had but a few daj-s previ- 
ously entered on the duties of his office ; 
and, a short distance behind them, the late 
charge d'affaires to Belgium, Mr. Maxey, 
of Maryland. By the side of him stood 
Hon. Mr. Gardiner, of New York, and 
Commodore Kennon, chief of one of the 
navy bureaus. 

On firing the gun, a murderous blast 
succeeded — the whole ship shook and 
reeled — and a dense cloud of smoke envel- 
oped the whole group on the forecastle ; 
but when this blew away, an awful and 
heart-rending scene presented itself to the 
view of the hushed and agonizing specta- 
tors. The gun had burst, at a point three 
or four feet from the breech, and scattered 
death and desolation all around. 

The lower part of the gun, from the 
trunnions to the breech, was blown off, 
and one-half section of it Ij'ing upon the 
breast of the newspaper correspondent ; it 
took two sailors to remove it. Secretary 
Upshur was badly cut over the eye and in 
his legs, his clothes being literallj' torn 
from his body ; he expired in a very few 
minutes. Governor Gilmer, of Virginia, 
— under whose official directions, as secre- 
tary of the navy, the power of this great 
gun was tested, — was found equally badly 
injured ; he had evidently been struck by 
the section of the gun before it had 
reached Mr. Upshur. Mr. Sykes, member 



of congress from New Jersey, endeavored 
to raise him from the ground, but was 
unable. A mattress was then procured, 
and Mr. Gilmer placed on it ; but before 
any medical assistance could be procured, 
he was not among the living. 

Mr. Maxey had his arms and one of his 
legs cut off, the pieces of flesh hanging to 
the mutilated limbs, cold and bloodless, 
in a manner truly frightful. Mr. Gardi- 
ner, of New York (one of whose daugh- 
ters subsequently became the wife of Pres- 
ident T3'ler), and Commodore Kennon, 
lingered about half an hour ; but thej' did 
not seem for a single moment to be con- 
scious of their fate, and expired almost 
without a groan. The flags of the Union 
were placed over the dead bodies, as their 
winding-sheets. 

Behind the gun, the scene, though at 
first equally distressing, was less alarming. 
Captain Stockton, who was knocked down 
and somewhat injured, almost instantly 
rose to his feet, and, mounting upon the 
wooden carriage, quickly and anxiously 
surveyed the whole effect of the calamity. 
All the hair of his head and face was 
burnt off; and he stood calm and undis- 
mayed, but deeply conscious, over the 
frightful ^vreck. Shrieks of woe were 
heard from everj' quarter — death and deso- 
lation, blood and mangled remains, were 
all around. In addition to the deaths 
already mentioned, about a dozen sailors 
were badly wounded ; one was dead, and, 
behind him, Colonel Benton, Judge 
Phelps, and Mr. Strickland, as if dead, 
were extended on the deck. On that side, 
by a singular concatenation of circum- 
stances, Mr. Tyson, of Philadelphia, was 
the only person who stood his ground, 
though a piece of the gun, weighing about 
two pounds, had passed through his hat, 
about two inches from his skull, and fallen 
down by the side of him. A servant of 
the president, a colored lad of about fifteen 
years of age, was amongst the slain. Pres- 
ident Tyler himself was saved only by the 
merest accident — having been temporarily 
called back from where he stood, just a 
moment before ! 



442 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Judge Phelps, of Vermont, had his hat 
blown or knocked off, and the buttons of 
his coat torn off. Mr. Strickland, of Phil- 
adelphia, ininiediatuly recovered liis posi- 
tion. Miss Woodbury and Miss Cooper, 
who, in company of Captain Ree<l, of the 
army, and Mr. Welles, of Philadelphia, 
had been standing on a leeward gun, were 
not hurt ; but the first-named lady — the 
beautiful and accomplished daughter of 
Senator Woodbury, of New Hampshire, — 
had her whole face sprinkled with blood, 
from one of the unfortunate killed or 
wounded. Judge Wilkins was only saved 
by a rollicking bit of witticism of his. 




Ho had taken his stand by the .side of his 
colleague in office, Secretarj' Gihncr, but 
some remarks falling from the lijis of the 
latter, and perceiving that the gun was 
about to be fired, exclaimed, suiting his 
action to the word — 

"Though secretary of war, I don't like 
this firing, and believe that I shall run ! " 

A mo.st heart-rending scene was that 
which transpired among some of the lady 
guests. The two daughters of Mr. Gardi- 
ner, of New York, were on board, and 
were piteously lamenting the death of 
their father ; while Mrs. Gilmer, from 
whom the company had in vain attempted 
to withhold, for a time, tlie dreadful new.i 
of the death of her husband, presented 
truly a spectacle tit to be depicted by a 
tragedian. Her agony was doubtless 
aggravated by a peculiar incident. It 



appears that, while President Tyler and 
family, and a large number of ladies and 
gentlemen in the cabin, were in the act of 
leaving the banquet-table, to proceed to 
the deck, the movement was arrested 
for a moment, by a gentleman announcing 
that one of the ladies would give a toast, 
and but for which it is probable most of 
the party would have been exposed to tlie 
deadly missiles. Some of the ladies, how- 
ever, were upon deck, and near enough to 
be dashed with the blood and mangled 
remains of the victims. One of those 
ladies was the wife of Secretary Gilmer, 
and it was at her husband's special request, 
that the gun on this occasion was firej, 
in order that he might observe its quality 
in some peculiar way. This gun was the 
one called the 'Peacemaker;' the other, 
of the same size on board, was called the 
' Oregon.' 

Mr. Seaton, mayor of the city of Wash- 
ington, was one of the company, having 
been invited by Mr. Gilmer, and would 
have accomj)anied him to the deck to 
witness the firing, but for a difficulty in 
finding his cloak and bat at the moment. 
A lady, standini,' ujidu the deck between 
two gentlemen, one of whom had his hat, 
and the other the breast of his coat taken 
off, escaped unhurt. The secretary of 
state, Mr. Upshur, left a wife and daugh- 
ter, to mourn his untimely death ; Secre- 
tary Gilmer, a wife and eight children — 
the eldest but fifteen. Commodore Kennon 
left a young wife, and children by his first 
wife. Mr. Maxey also left a wife and 
children ; and Colonel Gardiner two accom- 
plished daughters, leading belles in the 
society of the metropolis. The only cir- 
cumstance calculated to relieve the all-per- 
vading distress, was, that of the multitude 
of ladies who were on board the ship, not 
one was materially injured. 

As illustrating the effect of such a phe- 
nomenon, upon those who were near 
enough to have their sensations and emo- 
tions wrought upon to the highest degree, 
without actual injury to their persons, the 
experience of Senator Benton — I'ertainly 
one of the strongest-minded of men — is an 



♦11 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



443 




EXPLOSION' OF THE GREAT GUN ON BOAUD THE t'NITED STATES STEAMSHIP PRINCETON. 



interesting case in point. In that sena- 
tor's account of the occurrence, he says, 
among other things: 'Lieutenant Hunt 
caused the gun to be worked, to show the 
ease and precision with which her direc- 
tion could be changed, and then pointed 
down the river to make the fire — himself 
and the gunners standing near the breech 
on the right. I opened my mouth wide to 
receive the concussion on the inside as well 
as on the outside of the head and ears, so 
as to lessen the force of the external 
shock. I saw the hammer pulled back 



— heard a tap — saw a flash — felt a blast in 
the face, and knew that mj' hat was gone ; 
and that was the last that I knew of the 
world, or of myself, for a time, of which I 
can give any account. The first that I 
knew of myself, or of anything afterwards, 
was rising up at the breech of the gun, 
seeing the gun itself split open, — two 
seamen, the blood oozing from their ears 
and nostrils, rising and reeling near me — 
Commodore Stockton, hat gone, and face 
blackened, standing bolt upright, staring 
fixedly upon the shattered gun. I had heard 



444 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



no noise — no more than the dead. I only 
knew tliat the gun had burst from seeing 
its fragments. I had gone through the 
experience of a sudden death, as if from 
lightning, which extinguishes knowledge 
and sensation, and takes one out of the 
world without thought or feeling. I think 
I know what it is to die without knowing 
it, and that such a death is nothing to 
him that revives. The rapid and lucid 
■working of the mind to the instant of 
extinction, is the marvel that still aston- 
ishes me. I heard the tap — saw the flash, 
felt the blast — and knew nothing of the 
cxjdosion. I was cut off in that inappre- 
ciable point of time which intervened 
between the flash and the fire — between 





the burning of the powder in the touch- 
hole, and the burning of it in the barrel of 
the gun. No mind can seize that point of 
time, no thought can measure it ; yet to 
me it was distinctly marked, divided life 
from death — tho life that sees, and feels, 
and knows, from death (for such it was for 
the time), which annihilates self and the 
world. And now is credible to me, or 
rather comprehensible, what persons have 
told me of the rapid and clear working of 
the mind in sudden and dreadful catastro- 
phes — as in steam-boat explosions, and 
being blown into the air — and have the 
events of their lives pass in review before 
them, and even speculate upon the chances 
of falling on the deck and being crushed, 



or falling on the water and swimming: 
and persons recovered from drowning, and 
running their whole lives over in the inter- 
val between losing hope and losing con- 
sciousness.' This account, written by Mr. 
Benton, several years after the occurrence, 
shows the vivid impression made upon his 
mind. 

Of similar interest was the experience 
of Judge Phelj)S, senator from Vermont, 
wlio was nearer to the gun than any other 
guest, and who had at his side a young 
lady, Miss Somnicrville, from Maryland. 
The judge was prostrated, his hat and the 
lady's bonnet disappeared, her dress was 
also torn, and the judge's apparel rent and 
demolished. The lady's face was scorched, 
and she stood like a statue, 
unconscious. ' I took a 
glance at the scene,' says 
the judge, writing to a 
friend, 'caught her round 
the waist, and carried her 
below. I witnessed a scene 
there which I shall not at- 
tempt to describe — it was 
one of agony, frenzy — the 
shrieks of a hundred fe- 
males — wives, daughters, 
sisters — the beauty, the 
loveliness of the land. The 
imploring appeals to know 
the fate of the nearest and 
dearest objects of their af- 
fection can not be forgotten. ' Sir,' said 
one, 'the;/ will not fell me about my htis- 
liand.' I know Ikt not. but she was at that 
moment a widow — her husband was blown 
to atoms! You will hardly believe me 
when I tell you 1 was calm — collected. It 
was no time for trepidation. I felt as if 
introduced in the presence of my Maker. 
The scene was unearthly ; every selfish 
feeling vanished — even my own life was of 
no account. I was taken to the portals of 
eternity, and felt that I was surveying 
not tho paltry interests of time and sense, 
but man's eternal destiny. The first tear 
which started in my eye fell upon the 
few lines which conveyed to my beloved 
and devoted wife the assurance that she 






iS^£x<_ 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



445 



was not a widow, nor her children father- 
less.' 

The first hours after the appalling catas- 
trophe were marked, as might be ex- 
pected, by high excitement. Astonish- 
ment, and a feeling of dismay, mingled 
with intense and painful curiosity, seized 
upon the entire community. All tongues 
were busy in pressing or answering in- 
quiries. Men rushed out of doors, crowded 
the resorts of public intelligence, gathered 
in knots about the streets, and with eager 
countenances turned to every new-comer 
for further information. 

The next day, crowds poured down to 
the wharf where the bodies were expected 
to be landed, and, though long disap- 
pointed, continued to wait, hour after 
hour, till at length the minute-guns from 
below announced the departure of the cof- 
fins from on board the steamer, and the 
commencement of their melancholy route 
up to the city. 

As the boat which bore them approached 
her landing-place, the surrounding shores 
were covered with spectators, while a long 
line of carriages stood in waiting to follow 
in the train which bore the remains of the 
dead. Six hearses, in sad contiguity, stood 
side by side, and received in succession 
their mournful freight, as the coffins, 
borne by seamen and followed each by an 
escort of naval officers, were brought 
along through an avenue of sympathizing 
citizens, who opened to the right and 
left to let them pass. Scores of carriages 
followed to the presidential mansion, 
whither the dead were carried by the 
president's particular desire, and de- 
posited in the East room. That vast 
apartment, so often the scene of brilliant 
festivity — so often echoing the strains of 
joyous music and the mingled voices of the 
gay — was now converted, in the provi- 
dence of God, into a sepulchral chamber, 
cold, silent, and dark. 

Saturday was fixed upon for the funeral 
ceremonies, and the city was filled with 
thosfa who came to witness the solemn 
rites and pomp of the occasion, the bustle 
of business being hushed at an early hour. 



Before the bodies were removed from the 
executive mansion, religious services were 
performed by Rev. Messrs. Hawley, 
Laurie, and Butler. The funeral proces- 
sion was then formed, and presented an 
imposing coiq) d'mil. Generals Scott and 
Jones led the splendid military escort. 
Among the distinguished pall-bearers 
were Messrs. Archer, Morgan, Bolton, 
Totten, Worth, Gibson, Aulick, Shubrick, 
Crane, Towson, Kennedy, Hunt, Barnard, 
Fish, Fendall, — all departments of the 
government, legislative, executive, judi- 
cial, military and naval, being largely 
represented in the vast and magnificent 
procession. With these honors, accom- 
panied by minute-guns and tolling bells, 
the bodies were borne to the congressional 
burying-ground, where the military halted, 
and, forming in line in front of the gate, 
received the hearses with martial salutes 
and dirges. Minute-guns were fired from 
the west terrace of the capitol grounds, 
from the navy yard, and from other points, 
as the cavalcade proceeded on its route ; 
religious services were again performed, 
on depositing the coffins in the receiving 
vault ; after which, the military, as usual, 
closed the solemn pageant of outward 
ceremonial, by firing volleys in honor of 
the lamented dead. 

By direction of the president, Hon. 
John Nelson became, ad interim, secretary 
of state ; and Commodore Warrington, in 
like manner, secretary of the navj' ; in 
place of Messrs. Upshur and Gilmer. 

Concerning the great gun used on this oc- 
casion, and of which Commodore Stockton 
was the projector, it may be remarked that 
it was manufactured in New York, and 
was far superior in point of workmanship 
to its comjjanion, the ' Oregon,' which was 
made in England. The 'Peacemaker' 
was placed in the bow of the ship, on a 
revolving carriage, so that it might be 
fired from either side. An ordinary' 
charge of powder for it was thirty pounds 
It carried a ball weighing two hundred 
and twenty-five pounds ; and such was the 
precision with which it could be fired, as 
ascertained from actual experiments, that 



446 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187C. 



an obji'ct the size of a hogshead. I'ould bo 
hit nine times in ten, at a distance of 
half a mile. 

The gun being loaded, the first thing 
was to ascertain the precise distance of 
the object to be fired at, this being done 
by means of an instrument, constructed 
upon trigonometrical principles, the scale 
on which indicated the distance at a 
glance. The next thing was to give the 
gun the proper elevation. This was done 
by means of a self-acting lock, on an arm 
of wliich was a scale that indicated the 
precise elevation necessary to reach a 
given distance with the ball. A spring 
on top of the lock was then brought up 
to the point indicated, the hammer pulled 
back, and, at the very point of time when, 



<*^ 




by the ship's motion, the gun reached that 
point, and not before nor afterward, the 
gun was of itself discharged. 

The weight of the ' Peacemaker ' was 
ten tons ; its length, fifteen feet ; with a 
bore of twelve inches. It had been tested 
with a charge of forty-nine pounds of 
powder; had frequently been fired with 
thirty ; it exploded with twenty-five. 

A few days before the exhibition of the 
ordnance to the presidential party, there 
was an interesting trial of the gun, — its 
manner of working and its powers — 
attended with most satisfactory results. 
All the preparation for firing, with the 



exception simply of putting the powder 
and ball into the gun, was made by Com- 
modore Stockton personally. By means 
of a tackle fixed to the breech, a motion 
was given to the gun similar to that im- 
parted by a heavy swell, and when it 
reached the point indicated it was dis- 
charged. The ball in this case traveled 
about two miles before it hit the water, 
and then bounded several times. The 
Princeton went down the river as far as 
Mount Vernon. In going down, the 
'Peacemaker' was discharged three times, 
and, in returning, twice. On the fourth 
fire, the ball struck on the land, and its 
effect was lost sight of by those on board 
— so that the party demanded another 
fire, and respectfully requested the caj)- 
tain to put in a little 
more powder this time. 
Before firing for the fifth 
and last time, the captain 
said he should take the 
sense of the company. 
" All those in favor of an- 
other fire will sa}', aye." 
The air resounded with 
"aye!" "All those op- 
posed to another fire will 
say, no." Not a solitary 
voice. " The ayes have 
it," said the captain ; " I 
have the assent of con- 
gress, and I'll go ahe.ad." 
Probably fifty pounds of 
powder went into tlie 
'Peacemaker' this time. As before, the 
gun was fired by the captain liimself. 
The ball went, probably, four miles before 
it struck. It bounded fifteen times on the 
ice, in the course of which it iierfornied a 
half circle. 

Stockton was one of those persevering 
and enlightened experimenters wlio, like 
James, Rodman, Wade, Dahlgren, Ames, 
Sawyer, Parrott, Hotchkiss, Gillmore, are 
an honor to the cause of military science. 
It was in 1839, while in England, that his 
attention was attracted to the extraordi- 
nary and important improvements there 
introduced in the manufacture of large 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



447 



masses of wrought iron for objects requir- 
ing great strength, and he was thus led 
to consider the question how far the same 
material might be employed in the con- 
struction of cannon of large caliber. 
Singular enough, when Commodore Stock- 
ton applied to a manufacturer to do the 
job, he — the manufacturer — declared that 



it could not be done ; and it was not until 
Commodore Stockton had promised to pay 
all the expense of an attempt out of his 
own pocket, that the manufacturer would 
consent to make a trial. In a short time, 
the manufacturer, seeing that it was per- 
fectly practicable, became as great an en- 
thusiast in the matter as Stockton himself. 



LI. 

TRIAL AND DEGRADATION OF THE BISHOPS OF THE 

NEW YORK AND PENNSYLVANIA DIOCESES, FOR 

ALLEGED IMMORALITY, ETC.— 1844. 



These Two Most Powerful Prelates in the Church of their Order are Struck fronn the Roll of the 
Clergy, wliile in the Zenitli of their Fame. — No Parallel Case among Consecrated Dignitaries, since 
the Reformation — A Case of Melancholy Celebrity. — Extraordinary even to Romance. — Other Simi- 
lar Instances. — Exalted Character of the Bishops. — Venerable Age — Splendid Abilities — Terrible 
Effect of the Scandal — Confession of the Bishop of Pennsylvania. — Interview with the New York 
Bishop. — His alleged Libertinism. — Solemn Arraignment. — Some of the Evidence Given. — Charged 
with Gross Improprieties. — Testimony of Ladies. — His Acts while Riding to Church. — The House of 
Ill-Fame Story. — Its Emplmtic Denial by the Bishop. — Animus of the whole movement. — Pleas of 
the Rival Counsel. — Found "Guilty by his Peers." — Sentence of Suspension Imposed. — Efforts to 
Restore Him. — His Dying Declarations — Affecting Tributes to his Memory by all Parties. 



'-of the crime* of which I have been •cciiwed nnd for which I have been coadfmnod, my cooMienee mcquiti mc, in Uie light of God."— 

DTl.VO WORDS or Till VjtNKKABLK I'RKLATR. 




<^: 



ATHERED together, in solemn and extraordinary convocation, the 
bishops of the Episcopal Church in the United States proceeded, 
in December, 1844, to try the Right Rev. B. T. Onderdonk, D. D., 
Bishop of the diocese of New York, on charges of •' immorality and 
impurity," presented by Bishops Meade, Otey, and Elliott. 

The event, so unusual and astounding, produced a most profound 
sensation in every part of the country, and especially in the religious 
world. Nor were tlie revelations made during the sitting of the 
court, or the result arrived at, any less startling to the public mind. 
For the first time, sinee the Reformation, a bishop was tried (iiid eondemned In/ his 
peers for immoraliti/. Singularly enougli, the House of Bishops had, only some two 
months previously, passed the degrading sentence of suspension upon Right Rev. H. 
U. Onderdonk, D. D., bishop of the diocese of Penn.sylvania, for the scandal brought 
upon the church and his own private and official character, by the use of intoxicating 
liquors, — his guilt in this respect being voluntarily acknowledged to the house of bishops, 
who, without the formality of a trial, proceeded at once, at the request of the unfor- 
tunate prelate, to pass disciplinary sentence, namely : suspension from all public exer- 
cise of the office and functions of the sacred ministry, and from all exercise whatever 
of the office and work of a bishop. 

These two distinguished men were brothers ; they presided over the two richest and 
most conspicuously influential dioceses in the Episcopal Church in America; they 



GREAT AI^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



449 



were its two most prominent and power- 
ful bisliops. History presents no parallel 
to such a case. As a crowning coinci- 
dence, their successors in the episcopate 
were two brothers, Rev. Drs. Alonzo and 
Horatio Potter. 

From tliese peculiar circumstances, this 
cliapter in the ecclesiastical history of the 
United States possesses an interest alto- 
gether its own. Other religious bodies 
have been called to lament the moral de- 
fection of some of their leading and most 
honored ministers, but the high position 
of these prelates, as bishops of eminent 
influence and renown, invested the narra- 
tive of their delinquencies with marked 
and melancholy distinction. 

Bishop Onderdonk, of New York, was 
a graduate of Columbia college, and, in 
his twenty-first year, was ordained a min- 
ister of the Episcopal church, by Bishop 
Hobart. Wlien but twenty-three years 
of age, he was elected an assistant minis- 
ter of Trinity church. New York city, 
and soon succeeded Rev. Dr. Lj-ell as 
secretary of the diocesan convention. On 
the death of Bishop Hobart, in 1830, Dr. 
Onderdonk was chosen to succeed him in 
his high office, the act of consecration 
being performed by Bishops White, 
Brownell, and H. U. Onderdonk. 

The charges now brought against him, 
in his gray-haired j'ears, came upon his 
friends and the community, like a clap of 
tluinder from a clear sky. For more than 
half a century he had resided in New 
York city — the home of his birth, the 
scene of his education, the chief seat of 
liis labors. For almost a generation he 
had exercised the Christian ministry. 
His childhood and youth were singular in 
purity and piety. For twenty years he 
was connected with the largest Episcopal 
parish in the country. He was also a 
most devoted pastor — faithful and capable, 
quite to a proverb, in what is called the 
business of the church, diocesan and 
general ; and, as theological professor, he 
trained a multitude of the most useful 
ministers, as well as several bishops, for 
their sacred office. A change, then, so 
20 



great and so disastrous, in the position of 
the bishop, as that indicated in the charges 
preferred against him — that his old age 
should thus suddenly be made to contrast 
so criminally with his childhood, youth, 
and long-known manhood — presented the 
case in an aspect, extraordinary to the 
very borders of romance. 'From his 
youth up,' he bore the reputation of being 
grave, sedate, thoughtful, pure-minded, 
correct in his principles, and unspotted in 
life. 

On the organization of the court, the 
presenting bishops were aided by Mr. 
Hiram Ketchum, and Gerardus Clarke, 
and the accused by Mr. David B. Ogden, 
and Mr. David Graham. The specifica- 
tions against the bishoj) cite sundry acts 
of an indecent and grossly insulting char- 
acter towards respectable ladies, committed 
in despite of their indignant resistance, 
by thrusting his hand into their bosoms, 
and otherwise using such immodest famil- 
iarities with their persons as are utterly 
irreconcilable with the profession of a pri- 
vate Christian, much more intolerable in 
the case of a minister of the gospel, and, 
most of all, inconsistent with the pure 
example of a bishop. 

The evidence, direct or collateral, upon 
which the prosecutors chiefly relied to 
sustain their charges, was that given by 
Rev. Dr. Butler and his wife, Mrs. Beare, 
the two Misses Rudderow, and Rev. 
Messrs. Taylor, Trapier, Richmond, Mil- 
nor, Muhlenberg, and Wainwright. 

The statement made by Mrs. Butler 
was as follows, the occurrences transpiring 
in a carriage having two seats, the party 
consisting of Mr. Butler and Jlr. Peck, 
who sat in front, and Mrs. Butler and 
Bishop Onderdonk, who occupied the back 
seat, — the journey being from Ithaca to 
Syracuse, at which latter place IMr. But- 
ler was to be ordained by the bishop : — I 
noticed immediately (says this witness,) 
that the bishop's breath was tainted by 
something he had been drinking. I was 
neither surprised nor pained by it, for I 
was aware that he habitually used wine 
and ardent spirits. He soon became un- 



450 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



usually talkative, and spoke so indistinctly 
tliat I could not always understand him. 
He first put Ills arm around my waist and 
drew me towards him ; this he repeated 
once, perhaps twice. He had often done 
this when I was unmarried, and I had 
permitted it, though always disagreeable 
to me, because I believed him incapable 
of WTong. At this time, however, I re- 
moved his hand each time, because I saw 




TBIXITV CnOnCH, new YORK. 

he was not himself. The bishop persisted 
in putting his arm about me, and raised 
his hand so as to press my bosom. I then 
rose and withdrew the arm from behind 
me, and laid his hand upon his knee, and 
said to him in a raised tone of voice, hop- 
ing to bring him to himself, and wishing 
to attract Mr. lUitler's attention, that a 
bishop's hands were sacred in my ej'es, 
and that his were particularly so, because 



they had been laid upon the heads of 
many I loved in confirmation, and were 
about to be laid upon my husband's head 
in ordination. He made but little answer, 
but for some little time let me alone. 
While sitting in thought, I found he was 
again moving: I waited to see whether he 
might not be merely steadying himself in 
his seat, as the roads were rough, when he 
suddenly and violently again brought his 
hand upon my bosom, pressed and clasped 
it. With some horror I struck the hand 
with all my force, and he withdrew it; 
but immediately grasjied mv leg in the 
most indelicate manner. I sprang for- 
ward to my husband, and told him I could 
no longer sit with the bishop; I must sit 
with him. I was greatly- distressed, and 
Mr. Butler held me on his knee for some 
time, I rilling sometimes on his knee, and 
sometimes on a cari>et-bag at his feet. 
At the various stopping-places where we 
got out and rested, my whole efforts were 
needed by my luisliand to soothe him, he 
being violently incensed. 

Miss Jane Rudderow, another witness 
for the prosecution, gave in the following 
statement: — On the thirteenth of June, 
1841, Bishop Onderdonk visited St. 
James's church in this city (New York). 
I left the church before the close of the 
morning sen-ice, in consequence of a ner- 
vous he.idache. He returned with m^- 
sister Helen to dine, at the house of my 
brother. I went down to the drawing- 
room, at sister Helen's request, to see 
him. He was standing by the center- 
table when I entered. He advanced to 
meet me with extended hand, and said, 
' My daughter, I must cure you of these 
nervous headaches,' and led me to the 
sof.i. I sat down in the center of the 
sofa. Bishop Onderdonk immediately 
thrust his hand in my bosom. I moved 
to the other end of the sofa. He followed 
me, and repeated the insult. I was afraid 
to scream, or even reprove him ; for my 
two brothers were in the hall. I was re- 
lieved by the entrance of my sister-in-law. 
After dinner we went on to the piazza. 
Bishop Onderdonk requested me to show 



GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



451 



liiin jNIr. Schermerhorn's house, which I 
did by walking to the north end of the 
piazza. He threw liis arms around my 
neck, and I retreated into the drawing- 
room, where my mother, and sister, and 
sister-in-law, immediately followed me. 
It was a stormy day, and I went to the 
window-shade, to go underneath it, to see 
if it had ceased raining. Much to my 
surprise. Bishop Onderdonk was imme- 
diately at my side, and moved his 
hand in such a manner as caused me 
great alarm. I threw his hand away 
from me, and retreated from under- 
neath the shade. I observed my mother 
regarding me intently. My mother after- 
wards asked me, ' Jane, what did the 
bishop do to you, that made 30U look so 
when j'ou came from the window ? for I can 
read your face like a book ; and you looked 
so deeply mortified.' The Rev. Mr. Dowd- 
ney several times requested lis to have 
the bishop at dinner, on his visit, June 
eighteenth, 1843, but I answered, and 
Helen also, ' He never shall dine at our 
house again ; or if so, we will not be 
present.' 

The sister of the preceding confirmed 
the testimony given by that witness, and 
gave this account of the bishop's conduct 
while she rode with him on the back seat 
of a carriage driven by Rev. J. C. Rich- 
mond, from St. James's church : — "We had 
not proceeded very far from the church, 
when Bishop Onderdonk put his arm 
around mj' neck, and otherwise behaved in 
a familiar manner; this he continued to 
do. I was verj' much surprised and agi- 
tated, and would have jumped from the 
carriage, had it not been for exposing him 
to the Rev. Mr. Richmond. He kept 
repeating the offense, until we reached 
home, where he was to dine with us. I 
immediately went to the room occupied 
by my sister and myself, and told her 
what had happened. 1 entreated her to 
go down and entertain him, as the family 
were not yet prepared to do so ; she con- 
sented, upon condition that I should fol- 
low as soon as I could sufficiently coui[iose 
mvself. 



Of similar purport was the evidence 
given by Mrs. Beare, wife of Rev. H. j\[. 
Beare, rector of the church at Bayside, 
L. I., namely: — Rode to Zion church, 
with the bishop, where he was to perform 
confirmation. Jly husband's mother and 
his nephew sat on the front seat ; the 
bishop and myself on the back one. Dur- 
ing this ride, the bisho[) put his arm 
around me in an unbecoming manner, 
which caused me to draw from him; his 
hand pressed upon my bosom. I first 
communicated the knowledge of this 
transaction to m^' hu.sband. I told him I 
did not wish to ride with the bishop in 
the afternoon, as I thought hira too 
familiar in his manners. He asked me in 
what waj'. I told him of the occurrence 
of the morning, and he expressed great 
surprise, saying, 'If j'ou can avoid it, do 
not let it alter j"our manner towards him 
while he is in our house.' The bishop dined 
at our house after the morning service. 
Wiiile there, the bishop put his arm 
around me, and once raised my head by 
my chin, and kissed me. After the after- 
noon service, I rode with Mr. Thomas 
Beare, my husband's brother ; the bishop 
rode with my husband, and I think his 
nephew, in another carriage. We went 
to the house of Mr. Joseph L. Franklin. 
I rode as far as the top of the lane with 
Thomas Beare ; he was going directly 
home and not to Mr. Franklin's. I left 
his vehicle and rode the remainder of the 
way with the bishop and my husband. 
Returned from Mr. Franklin's about nine 
o'clock in the evening, in a one-horse 
family barouche, our own. with two seats 
to accommodate four persons ; the bishop 
and myself were on the back seat, my hus- 
band and his nephew on the front. On 
this ride, the bishop put his arm around 
my waist; then raised it, and put it across 
the back of my neck ; he thrust his hand 
into the neck of mj' dress, down into my 
bosom. I threw his hand from there ; he 
immediately put it upon another part of 
my person. I pushed it aside from there, 
and he then with the other hand repeated 
the same movement upon the other side, 



452 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



and this ho continued to do, with much ! adduced to tliis end ; and the asserted dis- 
persistency, and with the same indifference crepancies and inconsistencies cliaracteriz- 
to tlie resistance made by me, from the be- ing some of tlie statements made to liis 



ginning of his approaches, l>y all the means 
in my power. I went immediately to my 
room, when we reached home. My husband 
soon followed me, and asked the cause of 
my agitation. I told him the bisliop had 
insulted me. He replied, 'Say no more 
now ; let us join the family, and have our 
evening devotions.' I calmed myself, and 
went down into the room. On the 
bishop's departure, he approached me and 



prejudice, were mainly relied upon by the 
bishop's counsel, in their legal manage- 
ment of the case. 

Long before the matter was brought to 
public trial, Bishop Onderdonk was waited 
upon in private, by some of the most emi- 
nent and venerable clergymen of the dio- 
cese, for the j)urpose of calling his atten- 
tion to the reports which wore then in 
circulation. These clergymen were Rev. 







took my hand, iiml advanced — as I sup- 
posed, to kiss nic ; I drew from him, and 
he did not do it. I did not extend m^' 
hand ; he took it. After he was seated in 
the carriage, ho raised his hand to liis 
lips, and waved it to me. 

Against all the charges by the prosecut- 
ing bishops, and the evidence thus brought 
forward to prove them, Bisliop Onderdonk 
entered his solemn and unequivocal denial, 
so far at least as those charges and that 
evidence alleged any impure intention on 
iiis jiart. Evidence and argument were 



^^'l^ di^cLorvdlr. 



Drs. Milnor, Wainwright, Muhlenberg, 
and Higbee. The interview was held in 
the bishop's study, Dr. Milnor opening the 
conversation in regard to the object of tlie 
visit, namely, an allegation made by the 
Rev. Mr. Beare, of improper familiarities 
on the part of the bishop towards his wife ; 
that these were said to have occurred in a 
carriage in which he rode with Mrs. 
Beare, in the first place in going to or 
from the church in the forenoon, the 
church being the one where the bishop 
confirmed that day ; that familiarities of a 



GKEAT AND IIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



453 



still more objectionable kind had been 
indulged in bj' the bishop in the evening, 
in riding from a house where they had 
taken tea — understood to be the house of a 
parishioner — to Mr. Beare's home ; that 
Mr. Beare had communicated the facts to 
llev. Dr. Muhlenberg, who committed 
them to writing. The bishop was further 
informed that Dr. Muhlenberg had advised 
Mr. Beare to have the matter brought 
before the bishop, — Dr. Muhlenberg offer- 
ing to come down to the city to attend to 
the business, — and both Dr. Muhlenberg 
and Dr. Wainwright requesting Dr. Mil- 
nor's company on the intended visit. 

After the subject had thus been laid 
before the bishop, he positively denied the 
charge; and expressed his astonishment, 
that a lady of respectable character, as he 
presumed Mrs. Beare to be, should make 
such assertions. The bishop was asked, 
whether he would be willing to see Mr. 
Beare, to which he made answer that he 
had no objection, and Dr. Muhlenberg 
said he would send word to Mr. Beare to 
come down the next daj\ Messrs. Milnor, 
Muhlenberg, Higbee, and Beare, visited the 
bishop on that day. They found him in 
his study, from which he took them into 
tlie back room, and closed the door. The 
bishop took Mr. Beare by the hand, and 
said, " Mr. Beare, I have a very high 
regard and respect for jou, and would not 
wound your or Mrs. Beare's feelings inten- 
tionally. This is a very painful subject." 
On their being seated, he said, " I can 
assure you of my kind feelings towards 
you, Mr. Beare, and towards j'our wife." 
To this, Mr. Beare responded, " Do you 
deny, sir, what Mrs. Beare says you were 
guilty of ? " He said, " / do not deny it. 
But Mrs. Beare has misunderstood, or jnis- 
ronstrued mij motires." He then said, 
" Offer an apology to Mrs. Beare, and if 
she demand any further apology, I am 
ready to make it." 

Tears stood in the eyes of the bishop, as 
he made this declaration, and both he and 
Mr. Beare were much affected. The pro- 
testations of the bishop, as to his having 
no improper intention, were repeated sev- 



eral times. Dr. Milnor expressed to 
Bishop Onderdonk, before parting, the 
hope that what had occurred in this 
instance would put him on his guard in 
future. To which the bishop replied, " In 
regard to rumors of this kind, doctor, 
about clergymen, there are few who have 
not, at some time, had to encounter them." 
Dr. Milnor then said, " I do not know how 
that may be, but, in regard to myself, I 
have been nearly thirty years in the min- 
istry, and have never had occasion to 
encounter such a difficulty." 

The church and the community were 
filled with rumors of the bishoj^'s conduct, 
a considerable period preceding an3' initia- 
tion of official inquirj' into the case. 
When, however, things took a legal shape, 
according to the canons of the church, and 
Bishop Onderdonk was notified bj' the 
three presenting bishops, of their action in 
the premises, he reiterated his absolute 
and entire innocence, adding : " You have 
had your ears open to all the gossip and 
scandal which men reducing themselves to 
the low caste of informers and panders, 
could seek out and scrape together, for the 
use of my inveterate enemies. It being 
thus known that there were bishops here 
who made it their business to receive, 
examine, and sift such testimony, has done 
more to bring public scandal on the church 
than all else connected with this business, 
and has given an intensity of malignant 
effort to men desperately set upon my 
ruin. You have thus been the means of 
creating the public rumor which is, I 
understand, an assumed ground of action 
for the defense and purifying of the church. 
Thus have you contributed to make me, and 
through me our office, our church, and our 
religion, a scoffing to the profane ; and done 
not a little to aggravate my wretchedness, 
and help the purpose of my enemies to 
bring on my ruin. Contrast with all this 
what you say of friendly and Christian 
feelings towards me. You speak of having 
been enabled to clear up satisfactorily one 
of the most disagreeahle of the charges 
which had been laid before you. What 
this is, you say not. Report, before I left 



454 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



I'liihuk'lpliia, ami since I canif home, 
has said that you were in possession of an 
affidavit charging mo with presenre in a 
house of ill-fame. Tlie report, as was to 
be e.xpected, spread wihlly. As was also 
to he expected, it swelled in chara<-ter 
until the net was magnified into a habit. 
As my friends, you were bound to give 
me at once the name of my false accuser, 
that he might be summarily prosecuted for 
his villainy." Such w;i3 the storm of 
aci'usatiou which tlic bishop had to breast, 
and to meet which, according to the terms 
of leg.al investigation, he was sunimdued 
before his peers. 

The solemn convocation was held, the 
anxiety anil excitement of tlie public mind 
being strained to their utmost tension. 
The principal evidence in support of the 
charges has already been cited. Its 
extreme improbability was a leading point 
in the masterly argument nuule by ]VIr. 
Graham, in defense of the bishop. "Is it 
possible," said Mr. Graham, " that any 
man of sense — without saying one word — 
without making a single advance in the 
shajie of language, either indelicate or 
otherwise, as she states — with a lady of 
whom he knew very little, could take sudi 
liberties as those described? Is it at all 
within the limits of possibility, that n man 
could, while riding, in broad daylight, in 
com|iany with a clergyman with whom he 
was constantly engaged in conversation, 
tiike such liberties with a lady sitting by 
liis side — thrust his hand into her bosom 
repeatedly, and keep it tliere — and expect 
to escape detection and exposure? Is it 
possible that tlie circumstances could have 
occurred, consistently with any of the 
motives whii'h ordinarily attach to human 
action ? " Mr. Graham's jilea was very 
eloquent throughout. 

In reply to this argument of impossibil- 
ity, tlie counsel for tlie prosecution, Mr. 
Ketchum, said : " I think what ijou may 
regard impossible and revolting, would be 
testified to as ijiiife possible bj' j'onder 
man who stands at the corner watching to 
betray female innocence, day after day ; 
anil l>v thousands in this city who are in 



the very embraces of death. Give me the 
man with strong lustful desires, unris 
strained by moral princii>le, and I tell vou 
that nothing is impo-ssible to him. He 
will acconi])lish his object, and that in 
ways utterly unsuspected and unknown bv 
the ]>ure and virtuous man. The ditticulty 
in the case, and there is none other, is, 
that the l)isliop would do the thing iit (til. 
Now I may sj>eak of a case wliich was 
notorious. A few years ago, in a neigh- 
boring city, there dwelt a minister of the 
gospel, not an Episco[>alian, learned, ac» 
complislied — moving in the best society; 
and yet that man would start witli liis 
family for the house of God, and return on 
some pretense or another to his dwelling, 
and there ])erpetrate the most shocking 
acts with his negro cook. Why, every man 
said that was iiiii>o.ixi>i/i; and it would not 
have l)een believed if sworn to by the negro 
cook; but in the honesty of his heart, 
when he was found guilty of other offenses, 
he confessed the whole. He laid tlie 
whole open — he confessed his deeds, black 
as they were — lie submitted to the disci- 
pline of his church. Now, we must not 
talk of things being iiiij/os.'<ilile." 

After due deliberation, the final decision 
of a majority of the court was, to declare 
him guilti) of iiiiiiinmlifi/ and iiiipiiriti/. 
Tliis was concurred in by Bishops Cha.se, 
Brownell, Ho])kins, Smith, Mcllvaine, 
Polk, Lee, Johns, Eastburn, Henshaw, and 
Freeman ; and sentence was tliereujion 
decreed, suspending the accused from all 
exercise of his functions as minister and 
bishop. Of the other bishojis (•onstitnting 
the court, some were in favor of a verdict 
of not guilty, others for admonition, etc. 
The bishojis not included in the majority 
just named, were Messrs. Meade, Otey, 
Elliott, Ives, Doane, Kemper, DeLancey, 
Gadsden, Wittingham. The final sentence 
of suspension, liowever, was generally ac- 
quiesced in. 

Outside of the court, it was charged by 
the frii'uds of the accused, who were many, 
and inlluential and unwavering, that jier- 
sonal and doctrinal hostility to Bishop 
Onderdonk, was at the foundation of this 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



455 



movement. The bishop, supported by 
such men as Seabury, Haight, Berrian, 
McVicai', Price, and Slielton, was regarded 
as upliolding 'High Church' views; op- 
posed to which were men like Anthon, 
Tyng, Hawks, Duer, Oakley, etc. It was 
alleged, too, that this same theological bit- 
terness was the cause of the opposition so 
strenuously made to the bishojj's restora- 
tion to the episcopate in after years, not- 
withstanding the efforts put forth by his 
friends for the remission of his sentence. 

Tims, in the zenith of their fame, these 
two powerful bishops were struck down 
from the highest ecclesiastical position 
known in the Protestant Church. Bishop 
Onderdonk, of Pennsylvania, received a 
remission of his sentence after the lapse of 
twelve years ; but age and infirmity pre- 
vented other than occasional ministrations, 
and lie died soon after, in tlie seventieth 
year of his age. At the same age, like- 
wise, died the suspended bishop of New 
York, namely, on the thirtieth of April, 
1861. His funeral took place at Trinity 
church, Dr. Seabury preaching the funeral 
sermon, and the pall-bearers were Rev. 
Messrs. Southgate, Berrian, Creighton, 
Brown, Price, Cutler, Hawks, Leonard, 
Porter, Parker, Johnson, Gallaudet, Dra- 
per, and others. All parties in the church 
united to do honor to the memory of the 
deceased. 

In his last sickness, the bishop of New 
York, though very weak in body, was fully 
possessed of his mind, and conversed quite 



freely. On being visited by Rev. Dr. 
Vinton, Dr. Vinton suggested that if the 
bishop desired prayers, it would be grati- 
fying to him to minister to him in that 
way. He answered, "Do so, doctor: it 
would be very comforting and desirable." 
The " Office of the Visitation of the Sick " 
was used, from the beginning to the end, 
also the prayer for " A sick person when 
there appeareth but little hope of recover}'." 

The bishoj) made every response audibly, 
while lying on his bed, with his hands 
clasped and eyes looking up to heaven. 

Among the questions to be asked in the 
Examination of the Sick, are these : "Do 
you repent you truly of your sins ? Are 
you in charity with all the world ? " The 
bishop closed his eyes while he spoke of 
himself as a sinner, both in thought, word, 
and deed ; saying that " in his most earn- 
est endeavors to live for Christ and the 
church, as well as in exercising himself to 
have a conscience void of offense towards 
God and towards man, he saw infirmity 
and pollution," — then, opening his eyes, 
he added, "but the holiest man, equally 
with the most sinful, finds, in the hour of 
death, that every hope on which he relies 
for salvation is dispersed but one — all but 
one — our Savior, Jesus Christ. He is the 
Rock of Ages." Then, looking Dr. 
Vinton in the face, the bishop said with 
solemn earnestness, " Of the crimes of 
which I have been accused and for which 
I have been condemned, my conscience 
acquits me, in the sight of God." 




"IT 8TINGETH LIKE AN ADDER.* 



LII. 

DISCO VERY OF THE INHALA.TION OF ETHER AS A PRE- 
VENTIVE OF PAIN.— 1846. 



Performance of Surgical Operations Involving the Intensest Torture, During tlie Happy Unconscious- 
ness of tlie Patient. — Account of the First Capital Demonstration Before a Crowded and Breathless 
Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — Tlirill of Kiithusiastic Joy — Most Beneficent Boon Ever Conferred 
by Science upon the Human Uace. — Instinctive Dreail of Pain — Fruitless Search Hitherto for a Pre- 
ventive. — Terror of the Prolje and Knife. — Heroes Quail Before Them. — Case of the Bluff Old 
Admiral. — Discovery of the Long-sought Secret. — Sulphuric Ktlicr the I'rize. — Bliss During Ampu- 
tation — Honor Due to America. — A Whole World Elated. — Medical Men E.vuliant. — Curious Relig- 
ious Objections. — Test Case in Surgery. — Startling and Romantic Interest. — Value in I'ublic Hos- 
pitals. — War-Sufferings Ameliorated — Various Ellects while Inhaling. — Amusing and Extraordinary 
Cases. — " Thocht the Dei! had a Grip o' her ! " — Odd Talk of an Innocent Damsel. — Old Folks 
Wanting to Dance — Awards to the Discoverers. 



'■ The fierce p«tr«mitv of iufferinB hai been Btcepod In the waters of forget[uIne&», and the de«pc«l fbrrow Id the knotted brow of 
agony boB been sinoutbed foiever."— Puur. O. W. XloLHES. 



UMANITY — even the hardiest 
ami bravest portions of it — iii- 
stinotively shriak.s, with dread, 
from the pain attendant upon a 
dcliherate cutting of tlio living 
flesh by surgical in.struments. 
The case is related of a bluff 
oltl English admiral — one of the 
stoutest hearts that ever beat, in 
a service whose men of every 
grade are, to a proverb, daunt- 

RELlEVISd I-.MS nv THE ISE OF ETHKIt. IfSS, wllO, iu tllO opcuiug of llis 

distinguished career, had been engaged in cutting out an enemy's frigate. From the 
gun-boat, he climbed up the .ship'.s steep side, and, foremost of his crew, had reached the 
bulwarks, when, receiving a stunning blow, he fell into his boat again, striking his 
back with great violence. Years afterwards, a tumor lia.l grown on the injured 
part; and at Iciigdi the admiral— gray, and bent in years— found it advisable that 
this growth should be removed. The man that never feared death in its most ghastly 
and appalling form, now shrank from the surgeon's knife ; the removal, contenii)lutcd by 
the man of many battles with feeling almost akin to childish fear, was long deferred; 
and at lengtli, lialf stupefied by opium though he was, a most unsteady patient did he 
prove during the operation. 




#1 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



457 



Numberless instances have there been, 
too, of women — mothers — who, for their 
kindred, have been at any time ready to sac- 
rifice their lives,b3' watching and privation, 
in loathsome and tainted chambers of infec- 
tious disease, but, when themselves be- 
came victims of that which they knew re- 
quired a surgical operation, and which, 
without this, they were well assured must 
miserably consume them away, — even 
these noble minds, resolute in the prospect 
of death, have yet quailed under the fear 
of surgical sui^ering ; they have studiously 
concealed their malady from their nearest 
friends, and deliberately preferred the 
misery of a fatal, and unchecked, and 
gnawing cancer, to the apprehended tor- 
ture of an operation, temporary though it 
be. This feeling has been universal, in 
all ages, among the victims of keen ph^'si- 
cal suffering. 

From time immemorial, means have 
been sought, and with partial success, to 
relieve and even to destroy pain, during 
the manipulations of practical surgery. 
For this purpose, opium, Indian hemp, 
mesmerism, and nitrous oxide gas and 
alcohol, have been emplo^'ed, and all in 
their turn abandoned, except that opium 
in man^- cases, and mesmerism in a few, 
still continued to be used with imperfect 
success, and almost always with the subse- 
quent disadvantage of headache, feverish- 
ness, or other general disorder. 

It ivas reserved for the simple inhala- 
tion of a certain gas — pure sulpJniric 
ether — to achieve insurgerij that for which 
surgeons had for centuries labored, and 
labored in vain ! 

This was in 1846. A certain old gentle- 
man, however, — as the case is narrated, — 
was not altogether a stranger to the com- 
forting effects of this same anodyne j)ro- 
cess, some forty years previously. He had 
discovered that the fumes of ether could 
lull him into forgetfulness of the pains 
and disquietude of a bustling and check- 
ered life. He was a man of research in 
his way; curious in beds, baths, and pro- 
fessing to understand disease and its cure 
better by far than his fellows. But he 



was loose in principle, as well as weak in 
science, and no doubt, most deservedly-, 
had many roughnesses in life which he 
could wish to rub away. His mode was 
this : Ubtaiuing an ounce or two of 
ether, he leisurely sniffed up its vapor, sit- 
ting softly the while, and manifestly en- 
joj-ing a time of calmness and repose, 
greatly to his liking. Indeed, on being 
interrogated, he was in the habit of 
blandly answering, " soothing, sir, sooth- 
ing to an immeasurable degree." In this 
oblivion to the disgusting harassments 
of life, he was in the habit of indulging 
many times a day. He had curiously- dis- 
covered that the fumes of ether could 
relieve, temporarily, from the pains of a 
mind ill at ease ; but he was not to know 
that it could still more wonderfully 
assuage the body's worst suffering. 

The divulgement of this most beneficent 
boon to the world since man's moral re- 
demption — by which the most dreaded of 
surgical operations can be performed dur- 
ing a happy unconsciousness of the patient 
— not merelj' with little suffering, but ab- 
solutely with none — is due to three Ameri- 
cans, namely, Drs. Morton, Jackson, and 
Wells ; but to which of these is due the^^J? \ 
priority or chief merit of the discovery, is ^"^ 'V ^^ *ih, 
a question long and bitterly discussed, and ^/^ ^^ 5^ 
still undecided. Certainly, however, the f>. </ 
proceedings of each of these gentlemen, in 
connection with the discovery, show un- 
doubted scientific acuteness, ingenuity', 
zeal and perseverance. 

The enthusiasm with which the an- 
nouncement of this marvelous discovery 
was received may well be described as 
unbounded. Wafted across the Atlantic, 
it was at once hailed with rapturous ex- 
ultation in England, and speedily adopted 
in most of the large hospitals throughout 
the kingdom — also, in the vast hosjiitals 
of Paris, and in the numerous institutions 
of like character in German}', including 
those so celebrated at Vienna and Berlin. 

Still, there were not wanting those who 
regarded the discovery with distrust, and 
some of the public medical institutions 
barred their doors against the new alle- 






458 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



viatiiig agent. Oljjections Lnsed. on relig- 
ious grounds were urged against the em- 
ployment of ether. Pain, it was argued, 
was the natural and intended consecjuence 
of the primal sin, and therefore any attempt 
to do away with it must be wrong. These 
objectors failed to see that their argument, 
if it proved anything, proved too much, 
since it held with equal cogency against 
any and every remedial agency, in all 
cases whatsoever. Others opposed the 
anaesthetic on the ground that jiain is sal- 
utary, and that its anniliilatiou would be 



this, it was alleged that the new agent 
might be used for infamous purposes. " A 
fatal lialiit," it was said, " had sjirung up 
of using ether, like ojiium, for jiurposes of 
exhilaration, to all intents into.xication. 
A burglar forced his way into a mansion 
when all its occupants were in jirofound 
slumber, and, applying ether to them, he 
had the house all to liimself." Frequent 
accidents, moreover, resulted from the u.se 
of impure ether by unskillful hands, so fre- 
quent, indeed, that prosecution was threat- 
ened for administering it at all. 




H0RACE>X^EUS 



TIIF THREE CLAIMANTS Ol' THE DISCOVKUY OF TAIXLESS SVBGEtlV, nV ETHER. 



hazardous to the patient. And an emi- 
nent physiologist expressed the doubt 
whether there were a true advantage in 
8upi)ressing pain. " It is a trivial mat- 
ter," said this stoic, "to suffer, and a dis- 
covery whose object is the i)revention of 
pain is of slight interest." 

Then, too, letters came pouring in upon 
the discoverer from all over the civilized 
world, upbraiding him with having an- 
nounced the claims of a humbug. He 
also received constant visits from profes- 
sional gentlemen, who questioned the ac- 
curacy of the experiments. Worse than 



But the domain of the grim demon, 
Pain, having once been successfully in- 
vaded, liuiiKinity and science were ill-dis- 
posed to yield the vantage ground. One 
of the most eminent professors of surgery 
in America, Dr. 0. W. Holmes, .laid : 
'• The knife is searching for disease — the 
pulleys are draggiiig back dislocated 
limbs — nature herself is working out the 
primal curse, which doomed the tenderest 
of her creatures to tlie sharpest of her 
trials ; but the fierce extremity of her 
suffering has been steeped in the waters 
of forgetfulness, and the deepest furrow 



!] 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



459 



in the knotted brow of agony lias been 
smoothed forever." So, too, that world- 
renowned surgeon and anatomist. Dr. 
John C. Warren, — grave, venerable, and 
dispassionate, — exclaimed : 

" li'ho could have imagined, that draw- 
inrj the knife over the delicate skin of the 
face might produce a sensation of un- 
mixed delight! — that the turning and 
twisting of instruments in the most sensi- 
tive bladder might be accompanied hij a 
beaut I fid dream ! " 

It was natural enough, certainly, that 
benevolence should prompt the humane 
surgeon to such utterances of congratula- 
tion, for it supplied to him a desideratum, 
long sought, for the relief of the excrucia- 
ting pain they were necessarily ol)liged to 
inflict in the practice of their profession. 
For screaming, and struggles, and intense 
suffering under the surgeon's knife, ether- 
ization substituted complete exemption 
from pain, associated in some with the 
quietude, mental and corporeal, of deep 
sleep ; in others, with pleasing dreams, 
imaginary busy scenes, and sweet music ; 
and in others, with a perfect consciousness 
of surrounding objects and events. The 
obstetrician finds in it the means of alle- 
viating that distress with which woman 
has always been afHicted, when in the 
act of becoming a mother. To the physi- 
cian it affords one of the most useful, as 
it is one of his most prompt, remedies. 
He, before, had no reliable means of re- 
lieving the spasms of tetanus ; he not 
unfreqnently failed to procure sleep, in 
delirium tremens, when the question was 
one of sleep or death; his before pallia- 
tive remedy, opium, for the pain of colic, 
too often purchased temporary relief at the 
expense of an aggravation of the cause of 
the disease, and of increased difficulties in 
its cure ; and ho occasionally witnessed 
the breaking up of the system of a neu- 
ralgic patient, more as a consequence of 
repeated large doses of opium, than of the 
disease itself. 

Heretofore, also, the shock of all serious 
operations had been formidable. The 
patient, however resigned and courageous. 



was deepl}^ impressed in .sj'stem ; the 
pulse became feeble, the surface cold and 
pale, the eye dim, respiration troubled, 
and the whole powers of life brought low. 
With tiie use of ether, this is otherwise. 
Parturition may take place, thighs may be 
amputated, stones extracted, tumors re- 
moved, dentistry in all its branches per- 
formed ; the chief deviations from the nor- 
mal characters of health being, in all these 
cases, such as are known to be the effects of 
ether — and, accordingly, both manageable 
and transient. In the army, it has been 
found of incalculable service, in cases re- 
quiring the use of the probe and and knife, 
— tjie sadly ample opportunity in this field 
during the war in the Crimea, in Mexico, 
and on the battle-grounds of the South, 
adding fresh triumphs to the discovery. 

It will be interesting to give, at this 
point, an account of tlie first surgical 
operation performed under the influence 
of ether, the result of which so fully de- 
monstrated this glorious truth of science. 
It occurred at the Massachusetts General 
Hospital, the operator being Dr. Hay ward. 

In his own narration of the circum- 
stances of this deejjly interesting and most 
important occasion. Dr. Hayward says : " It 
was my fortune to perform the first capital 
operation on a patient rendered insensible 
by the inhalation of sulphuric ether. It 
r.arely falls to the lot of a professional 
man to be the witness of a scene of more 
intense interest. The operating-room was 
crowded ; many were obliged to stand. 
Besides the class of students in attend- 
ance on the lectures, numbering more than 
one hundred, and many of the principal 
physicians and surgeons of the city and 
neighborhood, there were present several 
clergymen, lawyers, and other individuals, 
from the various callings of life. When 
I entered the theater, before the patient 
was brought in, I found it, to my surprise, 
filled in every part, except the floor on 
which the table stood, with persons on 
whose countenances was depicted the al- 
most painful anxiety with which they 
awaited the result of the experiment they 
were about to witness. I simply told them 



460 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



that I liad decided, with the advice of my 
colleagues, to allow the patient on whom I 
was to (>|KTat(', to inhale an article wliich 
was said to have the power of annulling 
pain. The patient was then brought in. 
She was a delicate looking girl of about 
twenty years of age, who had suffered for 
a long time from a scrofulous disease of 
the knee-joint. It had at length sup- 
purated ; there were extensive openings 
into the cavity of the joint; the cartilages 
were ulcerated, and partly absorbed ; the 
bones carious, and symptoms of hectic 
fever had already made their appearance. 
As soon as she was well arranged on the 
table I told her that I should K-t her 
breatlie something which I liopi'il would 
prevent her from suffering much from the 
operation, and that she need not be afraid 
of breathing it freely." The critical 
nature of this case can easily be appre- 
ciated, even by the unprofessional mind, 
and the result is fraught with deep and 
romantic interest. 

It being desirable that the amputation 
should be performed as rapidly as possible, 
Dr. Haywaid decided to accomplish it 
by means of the flap operation. One per- 
son was to compress the artery, another to 
withdraw the flaps, a third to hand the in- 
struments, and a fourth to watch the pulse. 
Dr. Ha3'ward grasped the patient's limb 
with his left hand, and held the amputat- 
ing knife behind him in his right, care- 
fully concealed from her view. The 
mouth-piece of the inhaling instrument 
was then put into her mouth, and she was 
directed to take long inspirations. After 
breathing in this w.ay a short time, the 
nostrils were compressed, so that all the 
air that went into the lungs must first 
pass through the machine, and of course 
be mixed with the vapor of the ether. 
She breathed with i)erfect ease, and with- 
out struggling, an<l in about three minutes 
from the time the instrument w.as put 
into her mouth, Dr Morton said, ' She is 
ready.' A death-like silence reigned in 
the room ; no one moved, or hardly 
breathed. The doctor passed the knife 
directly through the limb, and brought it 



out as rapidly as he could, and made the 
upper flap. The patient gave no sign of 
feeling or consciousness, but looked like 
one in a deep, quiet sleep. Every other 
person in the room took a full inspiration 
that was distinctly audible, and seemed to 
feel that they could now breathe again. 
The second flap was then made, the bone 
sawed, five arteries were tied, and as the 
doctor was tightening the ligature upon 
the sixth and last she groaned, being the 
first indication of sensibility that had 
been given. Nothing more was done than 
to bring the flaps together, cover the 
stump with cloths dipped in cold water, 
and ai)ply two or three turns of a roller to 
keep them in place. Her consciousness 
soon returned ; ske xvas wholli/ ignovaiit 
that the operation had been done! For 
some time she would not believe it, and 
said that she had felt nothing till the 
doctor tied the last artery. The operation 
lasted a minute and three-quarters. 

The Jilunoniena, or effects, produced by 
the administration of ether, are extremely 
various, depending much, of course, upon 
the temperament, habits, and condition of 
the patient. Sometimes the dream is ex- 
quisitely charming, and the jiatient seems 
passed into another and a better world. 
Sometimes the opposite state obtains, the 
patient betraying manifest uneasiness 
while in the trance, b}' restless, staring, 
anguished eye-balls, by groaning, and by 
wrestling movements of the bod^-. And 
these are not loath to emerge from the 
effects of the drug, while the former part 
with them grudgingly. C)ne ])oor girl, for 
instance, had struggled hard during an 
amjiutation, yet felt no pain ; and, on com- 
ing to herself, thankfulness was expressed 
in every feature, as well as by her blithe 
tongue, for she "thocht the dvil had a 
f/ripo' her a' the time." 

In some cases, the dreamer is falling from 
a great height rapidly, down and down into 
some unfathomable abyss. In other cases, 
the dream is warlike; jiersonal to the 
dreamer; or of by-gone days, implicating 
some great military demonstration ; and 
the crack of tooth-pulling has thus passed 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



461 



off as the din of ordnance. Sometimes, in 
youth, the dream has been " all fun ;" and 
the dreamer has been anxious to be back 
into the midst of his pleasant pastime 
again, even at the cost of another tooth- 
drawing. The patient, if a wanderer, and 
then in a strange land, may dream pleas- 
antly of home — '' she had been home, it 
was beautiful, and she had been gone a 
month ; " so said one poor woman in the 
midst of what, without the ether, would 
have been agony. 

Sometimes the dream passes steadily on 
to completion, sometimes it is abruptly 
closed by some critical procedure on the 
part of the oper.ator — the extraction of a 
tooth, with a sudden wrench, for example. 
A soldier dreams of guns and bayonets, 
and strife, and clamor ; a sailor, of ships, 
and storms, and grog ; an Irishman of 
whiskey and shillalahs, and a " skrim- 
raage ; " a boy of marbles, tops, and "lots 
of fun ; " a mother, of home and children ; 
a girl, of gala-days and iinery. 

A tippler fancies he is in the grog-shop, 
and there he may enjoy himself hugely — 
or he may dream '' his wife came to fetch 
him." Quarrelsome men grow pugilistic, 
and coats may be doffed with appropriate 
accompaniment of word and action. 
Young men, having some one in their list 
of female acquaintance dearer than the 
rest, grow active lovers, and in lone walks, 
earnest conversations, or soft whisperings, 
seem to make rare progress in their suit. 
The swearing and dissolute may indulge 
in oaths and profane jests. The man of 
fervent piety, who is habitually looking 
heavenward, maj' not only suppose himself 
translated to the realms of bliss, but may 
take part in imagined exercises there. A 
patient of this class was known thus to 
employ himself immediately after a pain- 
ful operation ; four verses of a psalm were 
sung by him very loudly, with his eyes 
fixed, his body in a tremor, and intense 
fervor shown in every movement ; he 
would not be interrupted, and could 
scarcely be prevailed upon to leave the 
operation-room, seeing that he found him- 
self so wonderfully happy there — said he 



had been in heaven, and had seen his 
Savior ; on reaching his bed, he fell on his 
knees and was rapt in prayer. 

Not always, however, is the dream con- 
sistent with the character. Among the 
instances showing this, is that of a young, 
simpering and innocent damsel, who, 
addressing a most amiable and excellent 
dentist, knitting her brow into something 
more than a frown, clenching her fist, and 
scowling defiance, vowed in the most up- 
roarious tone and manner, that if he ven- 
tured near her with his profane touch, 
"big blackguard, as he was, she'd knock 
him down." And so, too, staid, demure, 
elderly persons, have, in most abandoned 
gayety, insisted on the operator forthwith 
joining them in a joyous polka ! 

In plain language, as in plain fact — saj's 
an English reviewer, whose interesting 
resume is here quoted — the patie7it is 
drunk. Sometimes the consciousness of 
this condition is made apparent by the 
sensations which are induced in the early 
period of inhalation. " You'll have me 
drunk ! " cried one ; "Oh, you rascals ! I 
know what you are ; " evidently supposing 
that he had fallen into loose society, and 
that his companions had a design on him. 
But it is on coming out of the trance, that 
the intoxication shows most. The patient 
sways as he tries to stand ; is garrulous, 
sprightly, and humorous; and often in- 
sists on shaking hands with all and 
sundry. The unsteadiness of gait, and 
lightness of head, sometimes have an 
inconvenient duration, as is illustrated in 
the case of a most worthy lady, who, leav- 
ing the dentist too soon, had to grope her 
way along the railing of the street, in 
noonday, and ran no slight risk of losing 
all reputation for sobriety. 

Among the many amusing examples of 
the effect produced by the administration 
of the anpesthetic — in addition to its pri- 
mary quality of annulling pain — the follow- 
ing may be cited : An Irish woman, who 
had never heard of ether previous to call- 
ing upon the dentist for the purpose of 
having a large molar tooth extracted, took 
it on being told that she would suffer no 



462 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



pain, and would, probal)ly, liave an inter- 
view with her friends in the old country. 
Just as its influence coninienred, the 
doctor remarked that he would like to 
have her observe what occupation her 
friends were engaged in, if .'she succeeded 
in finding them. The tooth was drawn ; 
she moved not a muscle of the face, but 
remained as in a quiet sleep, for about one 



machinery, declared herself unhurt by the 
operation, and wished the doctor to see if 
there was not " another tooth what icanted 
to be dreir." 

Another exanijile of this class, was that 
of a middle-aged Iri.-^hman, who had s<is- 
tained compound fracture of the leg. The 
fracture had not united, in consequence of 
the presence of a dead piece of bone, and 




MONUMENT ERF-rTED IN IIUNOR 



minute. Uj)on opening her eyes, she 
exclaimed, "I have seen all my friends; 
they were engaged in spinning — and don't 
I hear their wheels now, sure ? " She 
said it appe.irei to her as though she had 
been absent manj' months. She recol- 
lected that she went home in a steam 
vessel, heard the noise of steam and 



OF THE DISCOVERY OF ETHER. 

it became necessary to remove this by a 
painful operation, in the following manner: 
The patient was seated on a table, and 
the inh.-ilation was a])i>lied. At first, little 
effect was produced, but after .«ome min- 
utes, the patient fell backwards, as in a 
swoon. The operator was then about to 
proceed; but the man imnieiliately ob- 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



463 



jected, saying that "he was not asleep, and 
that he trusted nothing would be done 
till he was asleep." For full twenty min- 
utes more the inhalation went on, the man 
confused and talkative, but wide-awake, 
and occasionally expressing verj' emphati- 
cally his conviction that " it would not do." 
At length, however, while in this wakeful 
state, the operation was begun. Incisions 
were made on the shin, and flaps were dis- 
sected off so as to expose the bone beneath. 
A portion of this was sawn and clipped 
through, and then the dead bone was 
removed. Only during the clipping of the 
bone with strong straining pliers did any 
sign of feeling escape from the patient, 
who was busy inhaling all the while, and 
now and then protesting that " it wouldn't 
do." The operation occupied about ten 
minutes, and, from the highly sensitive 
nature of the parts involved, must have 
been attended with excruciating suffering 
under ordinary circumstances. After it 
was over, the operator said to the patient — 

"I suppose you won"t let me operate 
to-day ? " 

"Certainly not," replied the patient, 
" it won't do ; I must be asleep. The 
thing hasn't succeeded with me, and I am 
sure it can't succeed with any one else, for 
I did everything I could to get asleep, for 
my own sake, and I'd do anything to plase 
you." 

" Then you won't even let mo make a 
cut into the leg?" 

" No ; I must be asleep ; we can try it 
another time." 

This [ilain proof of his utter unconscious- 
ness of the operation having been per- 
formed was acknowledged by the specta- 
tors in a hearty round of applause. The 
patient then sat up, and, seeing the wound, 
burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, 
saying— 

"No doubt there's blood, or something 
very like it; but I haven't felt a single 
thing done to my leg. That hates the 
globe ! " 

On being asked decidedlj' as to his 
having felt aaything, he repeatedly an- 
swered "Not a ha' porth." He got into 



amazing spirits, and refused to leave the 
room until he had told "all about the tol- 
drums of the business." And then, with 
the manner of a tipsy man, and very 
happy, he kept surgeons and students in a 
roar of laughter for some minutes with a 
narrative of his condition during the in- 
halation, which, Irish-like, seemed to have 
an interminable medley of imaginary 
fights and "killings" going on around 
him. 

It has already been stated, that Drs. 
Jackson, Morton, and Wells, respectivelj', 
claim the honor of having discovered this 
great fact in chemical and medical science, 
and the claim of each is supjiorted by a 
formidable army of names and evidence. 
One of the most candid investigators of 
the character and weight of these several 
and conflicting claims, has presented the 
case in this light, namely: That to Dr. 
Wells unquestionably belongs the merit 
of having first demonstrated the happy 
idea of deadening sensibility in painful 
operations, by using both nitrous oxide 
and sulphuric ether; that to Dr. Jackson, 
the thanks of the world are due for lend- 
ing that influence which his well-earned 
reputation qualified him to do, in estab- 
lishing confidence in the public mind in 
the use of sulphuric ether, as a substitute 
for the nitrous oxide ; and that, to Dr. 
Morton's indefatigable exertions in secur- 
ing the attention of leading medical men 
to the subject, was due the rapid adoption 
of sulphuric ether in connection with the 
practice of surgery. But, singularly' 
enough, though the French Academy has 
acknowledged, bj- pecuniary and honorary 
awards, the indebtedness of mankind to 
the American discoverers of this vast 
blessing to humanity, the American gov- 
ernment has thus far failed to confer any 
reward upon any one of the distinguished 
claimants. A costly and superb monu- 
ment, designed and executed with con- 
summate skill by Ward, the eminent 
sculptor, and erected at the cost of a 
wealthy citizen of Boston, in honor of this 
great discovery, now adorns the public 
garden of that city. 



LIII. 

INVENTION OF THAT WONDROUS PIECE OF MECHANISM, 
THE SEWING-MACHINE.— 1S46. 



Romantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in its Production — Toils of the Inventor in His Garret 

— World Wide Introiliiction of the Device. — Upwards of One Thousand Patents Taken Out in the 
United States —Tlie Iniiustrial Interests of the Country Afrecte<l to tlie Amount of $500,000,000 
Annually. — The Mumble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. — The Main Principle Involved. — Compari- 
son with Hand Sewing — How it was Suggested. — Listening to Some Advantage. — History of Mr. 
Howe's KfTorts. — Ingenuity, Struggles, Triumphs. — Value of a Friend in Need — A Machine at Last. 
— Its Parts, Capabilities, etc. — Reception b^' the Public. — Doubt Succeeded by Admiration. — Great 
Popularity and Demand. — Wearisome Litigation with Rivals — Interesting Question of Priority. — 
Decided in Howe's Favor — He Rises to Affluence. — Improvements by Others. — Unique and Useful 
Devices. — Number of Machines Produced. — Time and Labor Saved. — Effect Upon Prices — New 
Avenues of Labor Opened. 



"The Inrcntlon bII sdmtrcfl, 

An<l each )iuw he to t>e the inventor mlued. 

60 plain it Beeme<t onrr found— which yet un-fbund. 

Must would have thuught impoeslble." 




THB ISVEXTOli ILILI.N J IX niS CVORET. 



FTEREXCE of opinion there may 
1)0, witli re<;aril to tlie iibstnict 
questitin, wlio first conceived tlic 
peculiar jirinciple involved in 
sewing l>3' niacliinerv, .and even 
in respect to who was the original con- 
structor of a machine cai)able of fulfilling 
fliis idea ; but, so far as actual demonstra- 
tion of its feasibleness and utility is con- 
cerned, anil for the great results whicli 
have followed that demonstration, the world 
must be considered as indebted to Eli.os 
Howe, Jr., a ^lassachusetts mechanic, born 
and reared in obscure circumstances, and 
at an early age thrown upon his own 
resources of industrious endeavor, for simple sub- 
sistence. 

It m.iy be remarked, as a general fact, that the 
peculiar or original principle char.icterizing the 
modern sewing-machine, consists in the use of two 
threads, one being fed by a needle, and the other — 



III 



GREAT AiTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



465 



the wrong side thread, or, as it has been 
termed, the auxiliary thread — being sup- 
plied by a shuttle and bobbin. The needle 
is secured to a stock, whose movement, 
caused by arms and levers, drives its point 
through the material to be sewed; the 
eye of the needle, at a moderate distance 
from the point, carries the thread through 
and then retires leaving a loop, through 
which loop a shuttle is passed, ou the 
under side of the material to be sewed; 
this shuttle carries a quantity of thread 
upon a spool, which it supplies as the seam 
progresses. The needle on retiring draws 
up the loop, and thus closes the seam, 
which on the upper or face side of the 
work presents the appearance of what is 
called a 'row of stitching,' and on the 
under, a close resemblance, but differing 
slightly. The return, or rotation of the 
shuttle in its orbit, is a matter of course, 
and the work thus goes on continuously 
and with great rapiditJ^ 

The feed, or the progressive movement 
of the material to be sewed under the 
needle, is accomplished in various ways — 
primarily, by means of the friction of a 
feeding wheel, whose roughened surface 
creates sufficient adhesion to move the 
material forward at the requisite intervals. 
This feed is effected by the ordinary 
means of a racket-wheel and click, or paul, 
the latter being capable of adjustment 
through shifting levers, so as to give a 
longer or shorter stitch, at the will of the 
operator, or the requirements of the work. 

These devices and arrangements, with 
such improved modifications as experience 
and ingenuity have suggested from time to 
time, constitute the American sewing- 
machine. 

Although the use of the sewing-machine 
has become general only within a compar- 
atively recent period, the instrument is, 
in a certain sense, an old invention. The 
needle with the eye in the center, and 
double-pointed, is beautifully employed in 
the embroidery machine, which is an old 
French device. This machine worked 
upon cloth as many as sixty similar figures 
or flowers at the same time ; the whole 
30 



being directed by one hand, who, by the 
aid of a pentagraphic guide on a prepared 
pattern, pointed the needles to their appro- 
priate place of entrance, and returned them 
with unerring certainty and exactitude. 
The earliest form of stitch made use of 
was the 'chain stitch,' which is still 
employed for ornamental purposes, but is 
not approved of where strength and dura- 
bility are required. The next stitch in 
order was the ' running stitch,' and was 
accomplished by means of a needle having 
an eye in the middle and points at each 
end ; this has been extensively used for 
the cheaper kinds of work, but does not 
insure durabilitj'. The next form of stitch 
is that already described, as formed by 
means of two threads, with a needle and 
shuttle ; — and this opens up the wonderful 
era of modern sewing-machines, beginning 
with the introduction to the public of that 
by Mr. Howe. 

It would be impossible to follow Mr. 
Howe through all the details of his varied 
experience during his early j-ears. Suffice 
it to say, that it was at Boston, when in 
his twentieth year, and after he had 
learned the rudiments of his trade in one 
of the machine shops of Lowell, and sub- 
sequently in Cambridge, working side by 
side with Nathaniel P. Banks, that the 
thought of sewing by machinery was first 
suggested to his mind. As related by 
Mr. Parton, in his admirable magazine 
sketch of Howe, this singularly fortuitous 
incident happened in this wise : — In the 
year 1839, two men in Boston, one a 
mechanic and the other a capitalist, were 
striving to produce a knitting-machine, 
which proved to be a task beyond their 
strength. When the inventor was at his 
wit's end, his capitalist brought the 
machine to the shop of Ari Davis, to see 
if that eccentric genius could suggest the 
solution of the difficult}-, and make the ma- 
chine work. The shop, resolving itself into 
a committee of the whole, gathered about 
the knitting-machine and its proprietor, 
and were listening to an explanation of its 
principle, when Davis, in his wild, extrava- 
gant way, broke in with the question — 



466 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



" Wliat are you bothering yourselves 
witli a knitting-ruachine for ? Why don't 
you make a sewing-machine ? " 

" I wish I could," said the capitalist : 
" but it cau't be done." 

" Oh, j'es, it can," said Davis ; " I can 
make a sewing-inarhiiie myself." 

"Well," said the other, "you do it, 
Davis, and I'll insure you an independent 
fortune." 

Among the workmen who stood by and 
listened to this conversation — and in this 
instance at least the old adage concern- 
ing listeners appears to have been reversed 
— says Parton, was Howe ; and from that 
time he was in the habit, in his leisure 




moments, of meditating devices for sewing 
by machinery. Having inherited a con- 
stitution hardly strong enough for the 
work of a machinist, and burdened even 
in his opening manhood with the care of a 
growing family, his attention was more 
and more concentrated upon the project 
of building a machine which would furnish 
him a livelihood more easily earned. In 
December, 1845, upon a small capital, pro- 
vided b^' the generosity of an old friend, 
he shut himself up in a garret at Cam- 
bridge, and set himself seriously to the 
task of inventing a sewing machine. 
After about six months of incessunt labor 



and rejiection he produced the first moi- 
chine that ever sewed a seam, and he was 
soon the wearer of a suit of clothes made 
by its assistance. This first machine, 
which is one of great beauty and finish, is 
still in existence, an object of peculiar 
interest to the curious who inspect it; and 
it will sew ten times as fast as a woman 
can sew by^ hand. Having patented the 
machine, and finding the tailors of Amer- 
ica averse to its introduction, lie went to 
England, where he succeeded in selling 
two machines ; but found so little encour- 
agement that he would have starved to 
death but for the aid of friends, and he 
resolved to return home, or at least to send 
his family. So pinched was he, 
wliile in London, that he fre- 
quently borrowed small sums of 
his friend, Mr. Inglis^-on one 
occasion a shilling, with which he 
bought some beans, and cooked 
and ate them in his own room, — 
and through him also obtained 
some credit for provisions. Ar- 
riving home, after an absence of 
about two years, he found that the 
sewing-machine was a conspicuous 
object of public attention ; doubt 
had been succeeded by admiration 
of its qualities; and several ingen- 
ious men having experimented, 
had finally improved upon the ma- 
chine as originally constructed. 
^^j* A war of litigation ensued, and, 
^ after several years, Mr. Howe's 

claim to be the original inventor was 
legally and irreversibly established, the 
judge deciding that ' there was no evidence 
which left a shadow of doubt that, for all 
the benefit conferred ui>on the public by 
the introduction of a sewing-machine, the 
public are indebted to Mr. Howe.' To 
him, therefore, all other inventors or 
improvers had to pay trilnite. From 
being a poor man, Howe became, in a 
few years, one of the most noted mil- 
lionaires in America ; and his bust, exe- 
cuted by Ellis, shows a man of marked 
personal appearance and striking natural 
endowments. 



GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



467 



But here the very singular circumstances 
rehiting to the alleged priority of Mr. 
AValter Hunt's invention, as described by 
a graphic and well-informed writer in the 
New York Galaxy, — showing how preca- 
rious, at best, is the basis upon which 
even the most impartial of legal conclu- 
sions are arrived at, — may well be pre- 
sented, as exhibiting the trials of inventors 
and public benefactors : It was between 
the years 1832 and 1834, that Mr. Hunt, 
in his own workshop in Amos street. New 
York city, invented, built, and put into 
full and effective operation a machine for 
sewing, stitching, and seaming cloth. 
This first machine was made principally 
by the inventor's own hands. It was the 
pioneer sewing-machine of America, and 
the first really successful one of the world. 
There had already been a French inven- 
tion, a tambour machine for ornamenting 
gloves; but it was of very little general 
utility. These machines of Walter Hunt 
all contained the invention of the curved 
needle with the e^'e near the point, the 
shuttle and their combination, and they 
originated the famous interlocked stitch 
with two threads. Many samples of cloth 
were perfectly sewn by these machines, 
and many of the friends and neighbors of 
the inventor came to see them work. At 
length, one G. A. Arrowsmith was so well 
satisfied with the working of the machines', 
that he bought them, in 1834, and there- 
with the right to obtain letters-patent. 
But no sooner had Arrowsmith got this 
right, than he became impressed both with 
tlie vastness of the undertaking and with 
the prejudice which any scheme appar- 
ently tending to impoverish poor seam- 
stresses would awaken. At the same time 
he became involved in pecuniary disaster, 
and for years did nothing with tlie 
machine. Fortunately for Mr. Hunt's 
fame, many persons had seen his machines 
work, and had seen them sew a good, 
strong and handsome stitch, and form 
seams better than hand-sewing. Of these, 
no less than six directly testified to this 
fact in a suit afterward brought, and 
established the fact beyond question that 



Walter Hunt invented the first sewing- 
machine, and that it contained the curved, 
eye-pointed needle at the end of a vibrat- 
ing arm with a shuttle. The case itself 
was decided upon another point. These 
affidavits are still in existence. But this 
was not all. Fifteen j'ears after he had 
sold his machines to Arrowsmith, who lost 
a fortune and a name in not devoting him- 
self to their reproduction, Walter Hunt 
from memory gave a sworn written de- 
scription of his first machine in every part, 
and, to clinch the matter, afterward con- 
structed a machine from that description, 
which was the counterpart of the machine 
of 1834, and worked perfectly. Finally, 
one of the original machines sold to Arrow- 
smith in 1834, was and is, still preserved, 
though in a dilapidated condition. Walter 
Hunt then undertook to make a new 
sewing-machine, which should be an oper- 
ative instrument, and should contain 
all the parts which were preserved of 
the old machine, with such others as were 
necessary to present the machine in the 
same shape that the original one pos- 
sessed. He did this successfully, and 
the restored machine, still operative and 
ready to sew good, strong seams, is yet in 
existence. 

Without drawing further, however, from 
this curiously interesting chapter in the 
history of the machine, involving a ques- 
tion of the deepest interest to inventors, 
it is time to describe the instrument — its 
parts and peculiar features, and modus 
operandi, — invented by Mr. Howe, and 
which transformed him from an obscure 
and struggling mechanic to one of the 
foremost manufacturers and millionaires 
in America Seating ourselves therefore 
before this wonderful elaboration of artis- 
tic genius and skill, as it has come fresh 
from the hands of the toilsome but at last 
successful inventor, and witnessing its 
weird and agile movement while its enthu- 
siastic proprietor essays to sew a seam, we 
find that two threads are employed, one of 
which is carried through the cloth by 
means of a curved needle, the pointed end 
of which passes through the cloth; the 



468 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




THE OLD AND NEW: 8SWINO BY HAND AND MACHINE. 



needle used has the ej'c that is to receive 
the thread within a small distance, say an 
eighth of an inch, of its inner or pointed 
end, the other or outer end of the needle 
being held by an arm that vibrates on a 
pivot or joint pin, the curvature of the 
needle being such as to correspond with 
the length of the arm as its radius. 

When the thread is carried through tlie 
cloth, which may be done to the distance 
of about three-fourths of an inch, the thread 
will bo stretched above the curved needle, 
something in the manner of a bowstring, 
leaving a small open space between the 
two. A small shuttle, carrying a bobbin 
filled with silk or thread, is then made to 
pass entirely through this open space, 
between the needle and the thread which 
it carries ; and when the shuttle is re- 
turned, which is done by means of a picker 
staff or shuttle-driver, the thread which 
was carried in by the needle is surrounded 
by that received from the shuttle ; as the 
needle is drawn out, it forces that which 
was received from the shuttle into the 
body of the cloth ; and as this operation 
is repeated, a seam is formed which has on 



each side of the cloth the same appearance 
as that given by stitching, with this pei-u- 
liarity, that the thread sewn on one side 
of the cloth is exclusively that which was 
given out by the needle, and the thread 
seen on the other side is exclusively that 
which was given out by the shuttle. 

Thus, according to this arrangement, a 
stitch is made at every back and forth 
movement of the shuttle. The two thick- 
nesses of cloth that are to be sewed, are 
held upon pointed wires, wliicli project out 
from a metallic plate, like the teeth of a 
comb, but at a considerable distance from 
each other, — say three-fourths of an inch, 
more or less, — these pointed wires sustain- 
ing the cloth, and answering the purpose of 
ordinary basting. The metallic plate from 
which these wires project has numerous 
holes through it, which answer the purpose 
of rack teeth in enabling the plate to move 
forward, by means of a ])inion, as the 
stitches are taken. The distance to which 
the said jilate is moved, and, consequently, 
the length of the stitches, may be regu- 
lated at pleasure. 

One of the most formidable of Mr. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



469 



Howe's competitors, as a successful in- 
ventor and manufacturer, was Mr. I. M. 
Singer. His biographer speaks of him as 
a mechanic of some ingenuity but of small 
means, who, taking up with a casual sug- 
gestion made to him by a comrade, that a 
sewing-machine capable of doing a greater 
variety of work would be a profitable 
thing, ceased all other labor, and, borrow- 
ing forty or fifty dollars of his friend Mr. 
Zieber, applied himself unremittingly to 
the accomplishment of his task. He 
worked, as he states, day and night, sleep- 
ing but three or four hours out of the 
twenty-four, and eating generally but 
once a day, knowing that he must get a 
machine made for forty dollars, or not get 
it at all. The machine was completed the 
night of the eleventh day from the day it 
was commenced. About nine o'clock that 
evening the parts of the machine were 
finally put together, and a trial commenced 
with it. The first attempt to sew was 
unsuccessful, and the workmen, who were 
tired out with almost unremitting work, 
left him one by one, intimating that the 
thing was a failure. Singer continued, 
however, trying the machine, with Zieber 
to hold the lamp for him ; but, in the ner- 
vous condition to which he had become 
reduced by incessant toil and anxiety, was 
unsuccessful in getting the machine to 
sew tight stitches. About midnight, 
Singer started for the hotel where he then 
boarded, accompanied by Zieber. Upon 
tlie way, thej' sat down on a pile of boards, 
and Zieber asked Singer if he had noticed 
that the loose loops of thread on the upper 
side of the cloth came from the needle. 
It then flashed upon Singei's mind that 
he had forgotten to adjust the tension upon 
the needle thread! They both started for 
the shop again. Singer adjusted the ten- 
sion, tried the machine, and sewed five 
stitches perfectly, when the thread broke. 
The perfection of those stitches, however, 
satisfied him that the machine was a 
success, and he therefore stopped work, 
went to the hotel, and had a sound sleep. 
By three o'clock the next day, he had the 
machine finished, and started with it to 



New York, taking immediate steps to 
secure a patent. It brought him, in a few 
years, princely ivealth. The peculiarity 
of this machine is the chain stitch or 
single thread device, but with the employ- 
ment of an eye-pointed needle, and other 
appliances, so as to make it admirably 
adapted for the general purposes of sewing. 
On a similar principle are the Ladd and 
Webster, and Finkle and Lj'on, machines. 

Other improvements or modifications of 
the machine have been patented by Messrs. 
Grover & Baker, Blodgett, Lerow, Wilson, 
Morey, Johnson, Chapin, Gibbs, Leavitt, 
Watson, Clark, Weed, Arnold, McKay, 
Langdon, and others, but which can only 
be alluded to here. The principle of the 
double - thread self- regulating machine 
brought forward by Mr. Martin, stopping 
whenever the thread breaks or a loop is 
missed, is claimed by several parties. A 
number of the machines patented after 
Howe's, use needles of a different kind from 
his, but produce the same stitch; most of 
these instruments are equally correct in 
respect to mechanical jjrinciples, but differ 
widely in certain particulars, one being 
vertical and the other horizontal, one car- 
rying its own cloth and another requiring 
that it should be carried by hand; with 
other differences. 

But one of the most ingenious and orig- 
inal devices in this line remains to be 
mentioned, namely, a combination of the 
sewing-machine and the melodeon, by 
AVlieeler and Wilson, and by them exhib- 
ited, on its completion, to an admiring 
public. The apparatus had the appear- 
ance, externally, of a small parlor side- 
board or other similar piece of furniture. 
On lifting the front, there was seen a 
handsome set of piano keys. On closing 
it, and turning back a hooj) on the top, 
there opened to the view a complete 
sewing-machine, conveniently arranged. 
Concealed below, within side doors, were 
two pedals, one for the music, the other 
for the sewing-machine. Thus, by the 
use of one of these ingenious contrivances, 
when the lady operating the machine 
became tired of playing at sewing, she 



470 



OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



could change her foot to the other pedal, 
open the niclodeon part, and discourse 
music ! The 'rotating hook' and feeding 
apparatus of the Wilson machine consti- 
tute an admirable feature ; and the same 
niaj' be said of the Grover & Baker or 
' double loop ' stitch. 

Tiiouf^li at first looked upon as of doubt- 
ful utility, the value of the sewing-machine 
was in a short time abundantly demon- 
strated. Curiosity and doubt were suc- 
ceeded by admiration, and soon the demand 
became e.xtensive both at home and abroad, 
until, at the present time, the annual pro- 
duction of machines is thought to approx- 
imate to half a million. Active minds 
were also not slow to devise what tliey 
deemed to be improvements in the ma- 
chine and its appurtenances ; and to this 
end, the number of patent-claims filed up 
to the present time does not vary much 
from one thousand, though only an 
extremely small proportion of these are of 
any really practical importance. 

Such a revolution in the i)rocesses and 
results of national industr^^ as that effected 
by this machine could have entered into 
no man's mind — not even the mind of one 
given to the wildest romancing. Thus, in 
the brief period of some dozen years 
merely, from the time of the introduction 
of tlie machine to the jiublic, the value 
and practical results of the invention may 
be understood from the following facts, 
which appeared in evidence in the contest 
before the commissioner of patents, for the 
extension of Howe's patent — namely : 

At that time, the amount of the boot and 
shoe business of Massachusetts was fifty- 
five million dollars annually, and of this 
amount, the ladies' and misses' gaiter- 
boots and shoes involved one-half. About 
one-eleventh of the sum total above named 
was paid for sewing labor. From this 
l)roportion it appeared that the annual 
expenditure for sewing upon ladies' and 
misses' gaiter-boots and shoes was two and 
a half million dollars, and that it would 
liave cost four times as much if done by 
hand, — so that the saving in a single year, 
in one state, by this invention, in the man- 



ufacture of one special article only, was 
nearly eight million dollars. 

Similarly conclusive evidence was given 
in regard to the making of shirts, by an 
extensive manuf.icturer in Connecticut, 
who stated that his factor^' turned out 
about eight hundred dozen per week ; that 
he used four hundred sewing-machines, 
and that one machine, with an attendant, 
would do the work of five hand-sewers at 
least, and do it better. He paid, at least, 
four dollars per week ; but, reckoning it 
at three dollars, — the old price for sewing 
before machines were introduced, — it 
showed a saving, in this single manufac- 
tory, of two hundred and forty thousand 
dollars. Allowing, then, the males of the 
United States, at that time, to wear out 
two shirts a j-ear apiece, a jiroportional 
saving would amount to the large sum of 
between eleven and twelve million dollars 
annually, in making the single article of 
shirts. 

Another witness, representing the firm 
of Brooks Brothers, of New York city, 
manufacturers of clothing, stated that that 
house alone did a business, at the period 
named, of over a million dollars annually, 
using twentj' machines in the store, 
besides patronizing those that others used, 
and doing about three-fourths of all their 
sewing by machines, and paying annually 
for sewing labor about two hundred thou- 
sand dollars; seventy-five thousand dollars 
of this was saved by machines, — that is, 
the machines saved seventy-five thou.sand 
dollars on every two hundred thousand 
paid for sewing Labor. But the great 
manufactures of this house did not consti- 
tute, at most, but one-hundredth jiart of 
the machine-made clothing produced in 
that city; which fact, putting the i>ropor- 
tion at one-hundredth jiart, made the busi- 
ness of manufacturing machine clothing in 
the city of New York one hundred million 
dollars per annum ; and thus, at tin- rate 
paid by that house for sewing, it brought 
the cost of sewing in that branch of the 
business in that city, — even with the 
assistance of the sewing-machines, — u]) to 
twenty million dollars. Applying the 



a 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



471 



same ratio to the estimated amount of this 
branch of business in the United States, 
tlie total would reach the sum of seventy- 
five milliou dollars. All this, be it remem- 



bered, was in the comparative infancj' of 
the machine. Its pecuniary importance, 
as a labor agent, is now estimated to reach 
$500,000,000 annually. 



LIV. 
SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS.— 1847. 



Fniniliar Intercourae Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Beings. — Alleged Reve- 
lations from the Unseen World. — Singular and Humble Origin, in a Secluded N. Y. Village, of this 
Great Modern Wonder. — Its Development among All Nations in All Lands. — Astonishing and 
Inexplicable Character of the Manifestations. — First liappings in Hydesville, N. Y. — Time, Manner, 
Circumstances. — A Murdered Man's Spirit — How the Mystery was Solved. — liappings, the Spirit 
Language. — Its Interpretation Discovered. — Two Young Girls the " Mediums." — Their Harassed 
Experience. — Public Efforts to Sift the Matter. — No Clue to any Deception. — The Family go to 
Rochester. — Knockings Accompany Them. — New Forms of " Manifestations." — Many Mediums 
Spring Up. — Things Strange and StartUng. — Universal Wonder Excited. — Theories of Explanation. 
— Investigations and Reports. — Views of Agassiz, Herschel, Etc. — Press and Pulpit Discussions. — 
Different Opinions as to the Tendency of the Phenomena — Thirty Years' History. 



"1 cannot diiposc of another man's facu, nor allow him to diapoev of mine."— Emkrsoit. 




OCHESTER, K Y., one of the most 
beautiful and thriving of Ameri- 
can inland cities, has long borne 
the celebrity which attaclies to 
what are now known, the world 
over, as " spiritual manifesta- 
tions," — knockings, rappings, ta- 
ble-movings, spirit communica- 
HoosR IN wmcn spiritoal rappikos onioiNATED. tions, and the like. But, in 

reality, to the secluded and unambitious village of Hydesville, in the town of 
Arcadia, Wayne county, K Y., belongs the pre-eminent distinction of being the place 
where originated, in a manner most casual, and seemingly insignificant for the time, 
in respect to duration or results, this most mysterious, wonderful, and wide-spread 
jdiysico-psychological phenomenon since the world began. It was from Hydesville that 
these manifestations were introduced — so to speak — in the city first named, and where, 
by the great notoriety which soon characterized them, they came to be known, 
universally, as the "Eochester Knockings." 

The starting i)oint of all, in the history of this astonishing movement — one which 
has extended to the remotest bounds of the known world, which has challenged the 
scrutiny and excited the wonder of nionarchs, savaiitu, popes, philosopln is, divines, 
councils and synods, — is the Juinible house in Hydesville, occupied, in 1S47, by Mr. 
Michael Weekman, who, at different times that year, heard rai>pings ujion his door. 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



473 



but on everj' occasion failed to discover 
any person present, or anj' producing 
source or cause, notwithstanding the 
most vigilant watch was kept up and the 
most industrious search instituted, by tlie 
family and neighbors. Under these 
strange and uncomfortable circumstances, 
Mr. Weekman left the premises, which, 
however, were soon tenanted by the family 
of Mr. John D. Fox. But, so far from 
a change of occupants being attended by 
a cessation of the rappings, the very 
reverse was the fact. From March, 1848, 
the house was disturbed, from night to 
night, by the same constantly recurring 
sounds — rappings, tappings, knocks, and 
even shuffling of furniture, — and which 
could not be accounted for on the hj-pothe- 
sis of natural agency. 

Nor were these knockings now con- 
fined to the door of the house, but jaer- 
vaded every part, depriving the inmates 
of their regular sleep. In this state of 
wakefulness, and the source of the noises 
appearing to be in close proximity to the 
bed occupied by two of the Fox girls, it is 
related that one of them, some ten or 
eleven years of age, thought she would 
just try the experiment, sportively, of re- 
sponding to the raps by as close and 
accurate a repetition of them as was pos- 
sible with her fingers. Her efforts were 
so far successful as to elicit reciprocal 
sounds from the invisible agency. In a 
little while, the parties were enabled to 
open a distinct communication, by means 
of the following simple method, and with 
the accompanying results, as narrated by 
the Rev. Mr. Fishbough, an early investi- 
gator of the phenomena. After mutual 
responses had been ojjened, one of the 
girls said : 

" Now do as I do ; count 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 
6," at the same time striking her hands 
together, the girl acting more in sport, 
than in expectation of what really fol- 
lowed. The same number of raps re- 
sponded, and at similar intervals. The 
mother of the girls then said: "Count 
ten ; " and ten distinct raps were heard ; 
"Count fifteen," and that number of 



sounds followed. She then said, " Tell 
us the age of Cathy (the youngest daugh- 
ter) by rapping one for each year," and 
the number of years was rapped correctly. 
Then, in like manner, the age of each 
of the other children was by request in- 
dicated by this invisible agent. Startled 
and somewhat alarmed by these manifes- 
tations of intelligence, Mrs. Fox asked if 
it was a human being who was making 
that noise, and if it was, to manifest the 
fact by making the same noise. There 
was no sound. She then said, " If you 
are a sjnrit, make two distinct sounds." 
Two raps were accordingly heard. The 
members of the family had by this time 
all left their beds, and the house was again 
thoroughly searched, as it had been be- 
fore, but without discovering anything 
that could explain the mystery ; and after 
a few more questions, and responses by 
raps, the neighbors were called in to 
assist in further efforts to trace the phe- 
nomenon to its cause ; but these persons 
were no more successful than the family 
had been, and they confessed themselves 
thoroughly confounded. For several sub- 
sequent daj's the village was in a turmoil 
of excitement, and multitudes visited the 
house, heard the raps, and interrogated 
the apparent intelligence which controlled 
them, but without obtaining any clue to 
the discovery of the agent, further than 
its own persistent declaration that it was 
a spirit. About three weeks after these 
occurrences, David, a son of Mr. and Mrs. 
Fox, went alone into the cellar where 
the raps were then being heard, and said, 
" If you are the spirit of a limnan being, 
tuho once lived on the earth, can you raj) 
the letters that will spell your name ? 
and if so, rap noio three times." Three 
raps were promptly given, and David pro- 
ceeded to call the alphabet, writing down 
the letters as they were indicated, and the 
result was the name ' Charles B. Rosma,' 
a name quite unknown to the family, and 
which they were afterward unable to 
trace. The statement was in like manner 
obtained from the invisible intelligence, 
that he was the spirit of a peddler who had 



474 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



been murdered in that house some years 
previous. It is said that, at first, the raps 
occurred in the liouse even when all the 
members of the family were absent, but 
subsequently they occurred only in the 
presence of the two younger daughters, 
Catharine and Margaretta; and, on the 
family removing, soon after, to the neigh- 
boring city of Rochester, the manifesta- 
tions still accompanied them ; the family 
took up their abode witli a married sis- 
ter, Mrs. Fish, who subseciuently became 
celebrated as a medium, through whom 
the manifestations were exhibited. 

The original method of communication 
— the spirit language — it would appear, 
consisted in conveying an afiSrmative by a 




THE MISSES FOX. 



single rap (though perhaps emphasized 
bj' more), and a negative was indicated by 
silence. Five raps demanded the alpha- 
bet, and this could bo called over by the 
living voice, or else in a printed form laid 
uj)on a table, and the linger or a pencil 
slowly passed along it — when, on arriving 
at the required letter, a rap was heard ; 
the querist then recommenced, until words 
and sentences were spelled out — upon the 
accuracy or intelligence displayed in 
which, depended, in a great degree, the 
amount of faith jiopularly accorded to the 
manifestations. It was with this key, the 
conception of which as adapted to the 
mastery of the strange jihenomenon is 
utterly incomprehensible, that the above 



information was evoked from the mur- 
dered peddler, who also further stated that 
the number of the years of his Heshly jiil- 
grimage had been thirty-one ; that he had 
been murdered in that house, and buried 
in the cellar; and that the murderer was 
alive, as were also the children of Rosma, 
his victim. 

Such revelations as these, which, as 
soon as received by the interlocutors, were 
freely' given to tlie world, excited pro- 
digious interest, far and near. The cel- 
lar was dug to a great depth, to discover, 
if i)0ssible, some evidence of murder liav- 
ing been committed ; the premises and 
neighborhood examined with great thor- 
oughness ; and inquiries made in all 
directions. But all these efforts 
faded to elicit any disclosure of 
fact or circumstance, bearing in the 
slightest degree upon such a trans- 
action. 

At length, on the fourteenth of 
November, 1849, in accordance, as 
"S" was said, with directions from * the 

sjiirits,' a public lecture on the 
origin and character of the mani- 
festations was given in Corinthian 
\ Hall, Rochester, at which the ' me- 
diums ' were present. Jlanifestar 
tions were had, and a committee 
was chosen from the audience to 
make thorough examination into 
tlieir nature and origin, and rcjiort 
at an adjourned meeting the next even- 
ing. 

Intense interest was felt in regard to 
the residt of this committee's proceedings, 
and in due time their report was made to a 
crowded and breathless assembly. In this 
report, the committee stated that tliey 
had made such investigations as seemed 
necessary and ])racticable ; that the me- 
diums had apparently afforded every 
facility for tlie most minute and ample 
examination ; but that they — the com- 
mittee — had utterly failed to di.>;cover in 
what manner the mysterious sounds or 
raps were produced, or what was their 
cause or origin, there being no visible 
agency whatever to which, by any process 



GREAT AND MEMOPwVBLE EVENTS. 



475 



of ordinary reasoning, the phenomena 
could be attributed. 

Other committees of gentlemen arrived 
at the same conclusion ; whereupon a com- 
mittee of ladies was appointed, who took 
the young lady mediums into a private 
room of a hotel to wJiich they were 
strangers, and there disrobed and searched 
them. The mediums were then made to 
stand on pillows, with handkerchiefs tied 
tightly around their ankles. The raps 
were repeated, and intelligent answers to 
unpremeditated questions were rapped in 
the usual way. 

But the manifestations — ' spiritual ' 
manifestations, as they were now, and 
have since continued to be, called — were 
not long confined to the Fox family. In- 
deed, so rapid and wide-spread was the 
development of the phenomena, that, in 




D. D. HOME. 



the short space of two or three years, it 
was calculated that the number of recog- 
nized " media " practicing in various parts 
of the United States, was not less than 
thirty thousand. 

Various theories continued to be pro- 
pounded as from the first, though now 
more learned and scientific, in explanation 
of tlie moving of tables and other pon- 
derable substances and objects, as well as 
the linockings. Concerning the latter, it 
has been argued that, in spiritualism, it is 
the mind of the person charging the 
medium who exhibits all the intelligence — 
or it maybe some one en rapport after the 
mediinn has been charged to that degree 
that the electricity overflows in raps, and 



these raps are of the same character as 
detonations of electricity when a positive 
and negative cloud meet in mid air and 
produce thunder. 

Another theory of the cause of the rap- 
pings is that of a too great redundancy of 
electricity congregated upon the involun- 
tary nerves, through passivity of mind, 
and thus imparting to them extraordinary 
force. 

The theor}' presented with such philo- 
sophical ability bj- Professor Mahan, is, 
that there is in nature a power, termed, 
scientifically, the odylic or mesmeric force, 
which is identical with the cause of all the 
mesmeric and clairvoyant phenomena, on 
the one hand, and with the immediate 
cause of these manifestations, on the other; 
that by reference to the properties and 
laws of this force as developed in the spirit 
circles, and to its relations to the minds 
constituting the same, every kind of spirit 
phenomena can be most fully accounted 
for, without the supposition of the presence 
or agency of disembodied spirits ; and that 
the entire real facts of spiritualism demand 
the supj)osition that this force, in the pro- 
duction of these communications, is con- 
trolled exclusively, for the most part 
unconsciously, by the minds in the circles, 
and not by disembodied spirits out of the 
same. 

As indicating most clearly, according to 
this theorj', the presence and action of an 
invisible but purely physical cause — a 
cause connected with the organism of jsar- 
ticular individuals, its advocates do not 
hesitate to cite all the various wonders of 
spiritual manifestation, whether mental or 
material, not excepting the astonishing 
occurrences which transpired in Stamford, 
Conn., in 1850, and which made the name 
of the occupant of the house, Eev. Ih-. 
Phelps, for a long time so famous through- 
out the land. In this case, the phenomena 
consisted in the moving of articles of fur- 
niture in a manner not only unaccounta- 
ble, but baffling all description. 

By Professor Agassiz, the knockings 
and rappings were, from the very first, 
pronounced a delusion ; an opinion shared, 



476 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



perhaps, by the whok' liody of learned 
men in the country. Professor Faraday, 
of England, claimed to demonstrate that it 
is by phj'sical i)ower, and not by any mag- 
netic fluid, that tables move on being 
pressed by the fingers. Herschel sug- 
gested that there might be a fluid whiih 
served to convey the orders of the brain to 
the muscles. 

Suffice it to add, that, as no authority 
in respect to these phenomena is held in 
higher repute among the disciples of the 
new sj'stem, than that of Mr. Andrew 
Jack.son Davis, the Poughkoepsie seer, his 
opinion that the producing agencies, in the 
moving of tables and other inorganic sub- 
stances bj' spirits, are terrestrial magnet- 
ism and electricity, may be cited as rei> 
resenting the views of a large portion, 
probably, of the spiritualists in tliis 
country. 

The variety of phenomena known bj' the 
general term of 'spiritual manifestations,' 
is very numerous. Some of the principal, 
as enumerated by Mr. Ballou under five 
several distinctions, and which is perhaps 
as fair and complete an exposition as the 
literature of spiritualism affords, are the 
following : — 

First — making peculiar noises, indica- 
tive of more or less intelligence, such as 
knockings, rappings, jarrings, creakings, 
tickings, imitation of many sounds known 
in the different vicissitudes of human life, 
musical intonations, and, in rare instances, 
articulate speech. Some of these various 
sounds are very loud, distinct and forcible ; 
others are low, less distinct, and more 
gentle, but all audible realities. 

Second — the moving of material sub- 
stances, with like indications of intelli- 
gence, such as tables, sofas, light-stands, 
chairs, and various other articles, shaking, 
tipping, sliding, raising them clear of the 
floor, placing them in new positions, (all 
this sometimes in spite of athletic and 
heavy men doing their utmost to hold 
them down ;) taking up tlie passive body of 
a person, and carrying it from one position 
to another across the room, through mid- 
air; opening and shutting doors; thnini- 



I ming musical instruments ; undoing well- 
clasped pocket-books, taking out their 
contents, and then, by request, replacing 
them again ; writing with pens, pencils, 
and other substances, both liquid and solid 
— sometimes on paper, sometimes on com- 
mon slates, and sometimes on the ceilings 
of a room, etc. 

Thirds-causing catalepsy, trance, clair- 
voyance, and various involuntary muscu- 
lar, nervous, and mental activity in medi- 
ums, independent of any will or conscious 
psychological influence by men in the flesh, 
and then through such mediums, sj)eak- 
ing, writing, preaching, lecturing, philoso- 
phizing, prophesying, etc. 

Fourth — i)resenting apparitions: in 
some instances, of a spirit hand and arm ; 
in others, of the whole human form ; and 
in others, of several deceased persons con- 
versing together ; causing distinct touches 
to be felt by the mortal living, grasping 
and shaking their hands, and giving man}' 
other sensible demonstrations of their 
existence. 

Fifth — through these various manifes- 
tations communicating to men in the flesh 
numberless affectionate and intelligent 
assurances of an immortal existence, mes- 
sages of consolation, and annunciations of 
distant events unknown at the time, but 
subsequent!}' corroborated ; predictions of 
forthcoming occurrences subsequently vei^ 
ified, forewarnings against impending 
danger, medicinal prescriptions of great 
efficacy, wholesome reproofs, admonitions, 
and counsels, expositions of spiritual, theo- 
logical, religious, moral, and jdiilosoiiliical 
truths appertaining to the present and 
future states, and important to human wel- 
fare in ever}' sphere of existence, some- 
times comprised in a single sentence, and 
sometimes in an ample book. 

It is taught by writers on spiritualism, 
that it is a grand religions rfformution, 
designed and destined to correct theologi- 
cal errors, to remove sectarian barriers, 
and to excite more warmly the religious 
element among mankind. This claim is 
denied by those opposed to the movement, 
who charge it as aiming, or tending, to do 



#4 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



477 



away with the Bible, to overthrow Chris- 
tianity, and destroy the Church and its 
institutions, — indeed, to break up tlie 
whole frame-work of society as at present 
constituted. The discussion has engaged, 
in the press and pulpit, and on either side, 
the profoundest adepts in theology, science, 
and philosophy ; and, though none dispute 
that fraud and imposture have played their 



their own thoughts, without any knowl- 
edge at the time, on his part, of either 
ideas or subject ; the hand-writing of each 
was unlike that of the other, and, though 
both were written by Dr. Dexter's hand, 
they were both wholly unlike his, and this 
characterized the whole of the volumin- 
ous communications, according to these 
authors' statement. 




CORA L. V. HATCH. 



A. J. DAVIS. 



JUDGE EDMONDS. 



part, in multitudes of instances, in con- 
nection with the matter, it is admitted 
that the phenomena, under reputable 
auspices, exhibit great, novel, and aston- 
ishing facts. 

Since the initiation of the movement, or 
phenomena, in 184:7, by the Misses Fox, 
the most distinguished mediums have been 
A. J. Davis, D. D. Home, Mrs. Cora L. V. 
Hatch, etc., etc. ; the most widely cele- 
brated authors, A. J. Davis, Judge Ed- 
monds, and George T. Dexter, Adin Ballou, 
and some others. The learned work bear- 
ing the joint authorship of Judge Ed- 



The different kinds of mediums are 
classified, by Judge Edmonds, into those 
who disturb the equanimity of material 
objects, without any intelligence being 
necessarily or usually communicated 
through them, for the purpose of address- 
ing to the human senses the idea of a 
physical communion with a power out of 
and beyond mere mortal agency; con- 
nected with this class, though with the 
addition of an intelligent communion 
between the mortal and the invisible 
power, are the mediums for table-tippings; 
another class consists of those who write, 




monds and Dr. Dexter is generally pro- 
nounced one of the ablest productions, 
devoted to the philosophy of these modern 
wonders. A notable feature in the con- 
tents of this work are the alleged communi- 
cations received from Swedenborg and Lord 
Bacon, written, in their own hand-writing, 
from the spirit world, — they using Dr. 
Dexter's hand as the instrument to convej' 




their hands being affected by a power 
manifestly beyond their own control, and 
not emanating from or governed by their 
own will ; a fourth species are speaking 
mediums, some of whom speak when in 
the trance state, and some when in their 



478 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



normal or natural condition, in which 
cases the invisible intelligence seems to 
take possession of the mind of the medium, 
and compel the utterance of its ideas, 
sometimes in defiance of the will of the 
mortal through whom it is talking ; 
impressible mediums are those who re- 
ceive impressions in their minds to 
which they give utterance, either by 
writing or speaking, their faculties be- 
ing entirely under their own control ; still 
another class are those who see, or seem 



to see, the objects presented to their con- 
sideration. 

In all the nations of Europe, Asia, and 
Africa, the phenomena of spiritualism 
have become widely prevalent ; and, only 
ten years subsequent to the first develop- 
ment, its newspapers estimated the number 
of its avowed adherents at one and a half 
million, with one thousand public advo- 
cates, forty thousand public and private 
mediums, and a literature of five hundred 
different works. 



VOYAGE OF THE 



LV. 
UNITED STATES 



SHIP JAMESTOWN, 



WITH A CARGO OF FOOD FOR THE STARVING IN 

IRELAND.— 1847. 



Famine, Pestilence, Woe and Death Sweep Frightfully Over That Land. — Appeal to the Sympathy of 
Nations. — The Tale of Horror Borne Across the Atlantic. — Spontaneous Generosity of America. — A 
Ship-ofWar Converted Into a Ship of Peace, and Laden with Free Gifts for the Sufl'ering. — Total 
Failure of the Potato Crop. — A Universal Scourge. — Disease Added to Destitution. — Ghastly Scenes 
on every Side. — Multitudes Perish in the Streets. — Parliament Grants .$50,000,000. — The Message of 
Humanity. — America's Ready Bounties. — Use of the Jamestown Granted. — Food Substituted for 
Guns. — Interesting Bill of Lading. — Departure from Boston.- — Enthusiastically Cheered — Only Fif- 
teen Days' Passage. — Going up the Harbor of Cork. — Throngs of Famished Spectators. — Tumultu- 
ous Greetings on Arrival. — Public Welcomes and Honors. — A Tour of Inspection. — Indescribable 
Horrors. — Distribution of the Cargo. — The Mission a Great Success. 



** And thou, mighty ship, built by man to destroy, 
Thou, the lirat of tny race, bear'st an errand of joy." 




WING to the failure of the potato crop in Ireland, in the j-ear 1846, a great 
<3iJj famine fell upon that unfortunate land, and, during that and the succeeding 
year, thousands perished with hunger. Notwith.standing the successive 
grants of relief made by parliament, amounting in the aggregate to fiftj' 
millions of dollars, together with the munificence of the wealthy, desti- 
tution, famine, anol disease pervaded almost the entire poi^ulation. Such, 
indeed, was the fearful mortality in some of the towns, that one-third of 
the inhabitants fell victims, their corpses being found, in frequent 
instances, lying in the streets, uncofiined and unknown. 
As illustrating the frightful character and circumstances 
distinguishing this scourge, one of the official visitors to 
these scenes of woe staves that on entering one of the famine 
hovels in Kennare, he found five or six of the 
inmates lying in fever, huddled together on the 
damp and cold ground, with scarce a wisp of straw 
under them ; in another cabin, four or five unfor- 
tunate beings, just risen from fever, crouched over 
a small pot of sea-weed boiling on the fire, that one 
of them had crawled to the shore to collect for 
their dinner. An equally ghastly case was that of 
a poor fellow, whose mother lay beside him dead 
two days ; he was burning with rage to think she 
should have come to such an end, as to die of starv- 
ation. But a more distressing object still, was 
that of a sick mother, beside whom lay a child 



-'^5. • 



SCENE OF MISERY DDRINO THE FAMINE 



480 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



dead, for the twenty-four hours previous ; 
two others lay close by, just expiring, and, 
to add to the horrors of the sight, a fam- 
ished cat got upon the bed, and was only 
prevented by timely intervention from 
gnawing the corpse of the deceased infant. 
Perhaps the spread and extent of this 
calamity can be best comprehended by the 
manner in which it affected the Cork dis- 
trict. In the year 1840, under the law for 
the relief of the poor, a work-house was 
provided in Cork, suffic-icnt to meet the 
wants of some two thousand persons, and, 
until the year 1845, such accommodation 
was abundant. In 1846, however, things 
began to alter, when the destruction of the 
potato crop began to be experienced. 
Soon, the work-house filled to overflowing. 
Additional buildings were erected — thej' 
too were filled. Accommodation was then 
provided for twelve, and subsequently for 
eighteen hundred people, in the neighbor- 
hood of the work-house. Every inch of 
space was occupied, so soon as it was avail- 
able ; and yet the applicants for admission 
crowded pantingly at the doors. They 
were not repelled until more than five 
thousand and three hundred human beings 
were crowded into a space originally meant 
to receive two thousand. As a necessary 
consequence, u pestilence was generated, 
which destroyed life to an extent unheard 
of — and still the admissions went on! 
The vacancies created by death or other- 
wise, were immediately filled, by eager 
applicants, who, in their turn, and speed- 
ily, fell beneath the stroke of death. And 
this pestilence, though of course raging 
fiercest within the work-house, was not 
confined to its precincts and beneficiaries; 
the guardians, chaplain.s, and physicians, 
all shared in the visitation of the destroyer, 
and the attendant frightful mortality. It 
was a matter of inevitable necessity, to 
crowd the fever patients together so 
thickly, that they were forced to lie three 
and four in one bed ; and frequently it was 
necessary to administer the last consola- 
tions to the dying, in the very bed in 
which lay a corpse. When it was thus in a 
public institution supported and regulated 



by law, imagination can readily picture the 
scenes in those dreary cabins of the poor 
that cover the land. 

But the picturings of the imagination 
mere]}', may well be spared, in view of the 
gaunt array of awful facts which make up 
this tragedj- of human woe. Having placed 
the miseries of Cork in the foreground of 
this brief narrative, some reference is like- M 
wise due to the condition of those districts ■ 
which, being mountainous and largely 
jiopulated, were exposed to a peculiar 
intensity of privation, and of consequent 
suffering. Among these districts — and it 
furnishes simply a type of all the others 
which might be cited, did space permit, — 
was that of Kilworth, which comprises 
that very extensive range of upland, 
known as the Kilworth mountains, and 
the small extent of low land attached to it. 1 1 
Out of a total population of nine thousand " ' 
and eight hundred souls, there were at one 
time over seven thousand in the greatest 
state of misery and distress, and, of these, 
five thousand had not, unless given them, 
a single meal with which to satisfy their 
hunger. This arose, as in the other dis- 
tricts, from the total failure of the potato, 
upon which the people solely relied, to- i 
getlier with the additional misfortune of an ] 
unproductive oat crop. Some were found ' 
dead in the fields, others dropped down 
dead by the side of the roads, and multi- 
tudes expired in their miserable cabins 
from cold, hunger, and nakedness. Only 
now and then was any coroner called, the 
deaths being too numerous to admit of 
formal investigation into each. At one of 
the inquests, however, it appeared that a 
poor man named James Carthy, in the 
last stage of weakness and exhaustion, 
having been given a small quantity of 
meal took it home, where his unfortunate 
wife was confined to her bed of straw by 
want and fever. Having made a fire, he 
attempted to cook some ' stir-about,' but 
his strength failed him; he grew giddy, 
and fell with his face into the fire. The 
poor wife perceiving that he could not 
extricate himself, in vain attempted to 
leave her bed to assist him. She had not 



GREAT A2s'D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



481 



the strength to move. She heard the 
crackling of the fire, and she saw her hus- 
band writhe and expire. The effect upon 
her mind and liody was too much for licr 
to bear, and, in just an liour afterwards, 
she also was a corpse. Such instances as 
this, of terrible individual suffering, were 
not at all peculiar or rare. Everj' da^'' 
furnisheil its sad tales, and the living 
heard, and endeavored to drive from their 
minds, as soon as thoj^ could, the horrify- 
ing particulars that were related. 

And now it was, that, in the midst of 
her four-fold horrors of destitution, pesti- 
lence, famine, and death, the cry of poor 
Ireland, appealing to the charity of nations 
and of individuals, winged itself across the 
Atlantic, and enlisted the generous sympa- 
thies of fair Columliia. On the twenty- 
second of February, 1847, certain Boston 
merchants petitioned congress to lend one 
of the national ships-of-war, for the pur- 
pose of carrj"ing to Ireland a cargo of pro- 
visions; and on the third daj- of !March, 
the last stormy day of the session, when 
the attention of every mind in congress 
was t.nken up in the discussion of momen- 
tous questions pertaining to finance and 
war, the people of the United States, be it 
said to their honor, voted through their 
representatives, the loan of the frigate 
jNIacedonian to Captain George C. DeKay, 
of New Jersey, and the loan of the sloop- 
of-war Jamestown to Captain Roliert lien- 
nett Forbes ; and b^' a joint resolution of 
both houses of congress, the president and 
the secretary of the navy were authorized 
to send these vessels at the expense of the 
United States, or to put them into the 
hands of the gentlemen named, for the 
purpose indicated. The secretary of the 
navy, Hon. John Y. Mason, in view of the 
demand for all the resources of the gov- 
ernment to carr\- on operations against 
Mexico, chose the latter alternative. 
Much credit was due to the efforts of Hon. 
Robert C. Winthrop, in congress, for this 
favoralde result. 

In view of the splendid success which. 

from first to last, attended this grand 

national charity, in connection especially 
31 " 



with the voj'age of the Jamestown under 
the gallant and honored Forbes, this sketch 
will detail the circumstances attending 
the career of that noble pioneer ship and 
her distinguished commander, deviating as 
little as possible from the official narrative. 
Five d.ays after the passage of the resolu- 
tion of congress, the secretary of the navy 
ordered Commodore Parker, of the Charles- 
town navj' yard, to prepare the Jamestown 
by the removal of her armament, and 
deliver her to Capt.ain Forbes. This order 
came to han<l on the eleventh of March, 
and on the seventeenth, being St. Patrick's 
day, the "Laborers' Aid Societj'," of Bos- 
ton, composed principally, if not entirely, 
of poor Irishmen, put their hands and 
minds to the holj- work, and in the course 
of that day, one-seventh part of the cargo 
was stowed away ; and by the twenty- 
seventh, notwithstanding the interruption 
bj- bad weather, the ship was full, drawing 
nearlj' twenty feet, and having, with her 
stores, about eight thousand barrels bulk, 
of provisions, grain, meal, etc., on board. — 
the voluntary, free and heart}- contribu- 
tions, from all classes and sects, to the 
suffering people of Ireland, — all intrusted 
to the care of one of the truest men and 
most skillful nautical commanders in all 
America. 

The cargo thus in readiness, was in- 
voiced as "provisions, breadstuffs, and 
clothing, shipped by the Boston relief 
committee, on board the United States 
Ship of Peace, Jamestown, R. B. Forbes 
commander, and to him consigned." As 
such a bill of lading, purelj- in the inter- 
ests of international charity, was probably 
never before identified with the history of 
a government naval vessel, the record of 
its contents may well have a place in these 
pages, to gratify the laudable curiosity of 
the humane. But even this constitutes 
but a portion — the first shipment only — of 
the gifts of the citizens of New England 
and the United States, namely : four hun- 
dred barrels pork ; one hundred tierces 
hams; six hundred and fifty-five barrels 
corn meal ; two thousand five hundred and 
one bags ditto, of one-half barrel each ; 



482 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



four hundred and seventy-five bags ditto, 
of sixty pounds each ; two liundred and 
sixty bags ditto, of oue-«juarter barrel each; 
one thousand four hundred and fift3'-t\vo 
bags ditto, of one-eiglitii barrel each ; one 
thousand four hundred and ninety-six 
bags northern corn, one thousand three 
hundred and seventy-five barrels of bread, 
three hundred and fifty-three barrels beans, 
eighty-four barrels peas, eight hundred 
empty bags. The items thus enumerated 
pertain to the Boston contributions sent 
by the Jamestown; the remaining schedule 
of articles embraces gifts from other towns 
in New England, namely : five hundred 




^§j>r^^\'tt^55 



COIIN Foil THE DAXD Or WAXT AND WOE. 

and thirty-three barrels of corn, one-half 
barrel of pork, eighteen barrels corn meal, 
one-half barrel oatmeal, ten barrels oat- 
meal, eighty-four barrels potatoes, one bag 
ditto, five hundred and forty-seven bags 
corn, one barrel flour, one barrel rye, ten 
bags rye, one box rye, one barrel oats, one 
box oats, three bags wheat, one tierce 
dried apples, three tierces beans, one bag 
beans, six boxes fish ; two hundred bags 
meal, one-eighth barrel each ; one-half 
barrel meal, sixteen barrels clothing, one- 
half-li:irrel ditto, nine boxes ditto, two 
IhukIIcs ditto; fifty Itarri'ls flour, one-half 
barrel ditto, one hundn^d ditto rice, fiftv 



barrels corn meal, two barrels bread, sixty 
barrels beaus, one-half barrel ditto, four 
barrels peas, four boxes clothing. 

This was the bill of lading which cov- 
ered tiie freight of the Jamestown, — that 
ark of charity,^-commissioued, by a nation 
possessed at the time of but few ships of 
war, and at that very moment engaged in 
a contest recpiiring all her disposable 
naval force, to jjroceed to tlie city of Cork. 
The last time the war-flag of America 
floated in the British seas was in 1812. 
England and the United States were then 
in hostile collision. But in every encoun- 
ter of the latter power, in the guardianship 
of her rights and the defense of her honor, 
she showed that irrepressible character 
wliich belongs to an energetic nation once 
fairl}' rouseil ; and, notwithstanding all 
the unfavorable circumstances of a iiurried 
organization, defective vessels, wretched 
equipment, and want -of arsenals, docks, 
sj'steni, combination, trained officers, and 
naval discijiline, England had never be- 
fore met with an enemj' so destructive to 
her trade as America proved. During the 
first two 3'ear8 of privateering that fol- 
lowed tiie declaration of war, many hun- 
dred sail of British merchantmen were 
captured. But now, all this is changed 
and reversed. An American war vessel is 
sent to cruise up tlie Irish channel, but it 
is on a cruise of mercy; though a ''vessel 
of wrath," fitted for the work of destruc- 
tion, she has been disarnicd, and converted 
into a ministering messenger of succor to 
the famished. She bears no secret and 
.spying orders, l>ut her mission is open as 
day. Her caliber can be estimated from 
the weight slie bears of corn — not can- 
non ; her discharges are not to be of " iron 
rain," but to descend in {)caceful manna. 
In a word, she goes laden with food to 
those who are ready to perish ; and, having 
consummated her great work, and having 
achieved a nobler triumph than ever yet 
crowned the most successful shi]) of prey 
and blood, she will return with no red- 
dyed pennon flaunting from lier mast-head, 
but, rather, with the grateful esteem and 
affectionate attachment of one of the most 



Jll 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



483 



warm-hearted people on the face of the 
globe, anil with the gracious smile and 
blessing of heaven. 

On the twenty-seventh of March, Cap- 
tain Forbes gave a receipt for the ship 
and her apparel, etc., the officers of the 
navy yard having rigged her wliile the 
cargo was being received. The outfit was 
very complete, and on Sunday, March 
twenty-eighth, at half-past eight o'clock in 
the morning, the ship cast off, amid the 
hearty cheers and fervent prayers of the 
assembled crowd, and made sail on her 
course. At three o'clock, the noble ship 
had passed the Highlands of Cape Cod, 
and was fairly launched on the broad 
Atlantic, on a voyage full of hope and 
pleasure. Forbes, the large-hearted, brave 
and skillful commander — whose time and 
services for the expedition were a free-will 
offering to the cause of humanity, — said 
that it was to him a day full of mingled 
emotions of satisfaction, unalloyed by any 
unhappj- feeling, save that momentary and 
easily forgiven weakness that comes over 
a man when parting from his family ! 
GninJ, nohle-hearted Forbes! 

Thus auspiciously under way, the ship 
of peace, though three feet or more deeper 
than her usual man-of-war trim, sailed and 
worked admirablj', and although her crew 
proved very light and not altogether effi- 
cient, she sped on successfully, crossed the 
Banks in fortj'-three and one-half degrees, 
against the will of her navigators, with 
south, south-east, and southerly winds, 
and a dense fog, the thermometer varying 
several degrees in the air and water, indi- 
cating the proximity of ice, — and after a 
succession of rainy, dirty weather, and 
variable winds, the good bark cast anchor 
in Cork, outer harbor, on the twelfth of 
April, exact/i/ ffteen days and three hoiirs 
frum the navy yard at Charlestown, with- 
out having lost a rope j'arii. 

The Jamestown was verj- soon visited 
by Lieutenant Commanding Protheroe, of 
her majesty's flag-ship, the Crocodile, 
under Rear Admiral Sir Hugh Pigot, who 
came to say that everything would be 
done, within the admiral's power, to expe- 



dite the deliverj- of the cargo, and for the 
dispatch of the ship on her return to the 
United States. Intimation was accord- 
ingly given, that the timely aid of a 
steamer would be very acceptable, to take 
the ship to the government warehouses at 
Haulbowline. Unfortunately, no steamer, 
belonging to the public service, was just 
then at Cork or Cove, and it was therefore 
necessary to wait patiently until Tuesdaj' 
afternoon, when the steam sloop Geyser 
was expected to arrive ; but just after the 
Jamestown had weighed anchors, in prep- 
aration, and no steamer coming, the 
Sahrina, Captain Parker, came along, she 
being a packet running, and then bound, to 
Bristol. Captain Parker shaved the ship's 
stern so close as to take off her spanker- 
boom, and hailing, asked the commander 
if he wished to be towed up; a hearty 
affirmative was the response. The Sabrina 
forthwith towed her honored consort up to 
the government stores at Haulbowline, 
opposite the to\vn of Cove, and seven or 
eight miles below the city of Cork, forming 
a truly beautiful harbor. 

Meanwhile, the tidings of the approach 
of the good ship, with her rich and weight}' 
freight of food for the perishing, was spread 
far and wide, and many were they who 
watched anxiously from the shore, the 
form of that noble craft as she passed 
along, and which was now their onlj' hope. 
Even before the anchor had fairly bitten 
the soil, a deputation of the citizens of 
Cove, consisting of all parties in politics 
and all creeds of religion, waited on Cap- 
tain Forbes, with an address of welcome, 
to which he promptly and handsomely 
responded. TJie Cove Temperance Band 
came and remained on board all da}-, dis- 
coursing sweet music, Yankee Doodle and 
Lucy Long being performed with especial 
frequency and vim. A pl'enty of men 
came from the Crocodile to assist in 
weighing the .ship's anchors, and at night 
the town of Cove was illuminated. As the 
Jamestown passed up the harbor in tow of 
the packet, she received the cheers of thou- 
sands who lined the hills and quay, and 
innumerable ladies waved their Jinndker- 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 




chiefs in token of ileliijlit. TVlien parting 
with Captain Parker anJ his very service- 
able packet, the crew and passengers of tlie 
latter joined in a rousing salute to the 
American visitors, which was answered 
heartily and lustily from tlie Jamestown 
as well as from the assembled throng. 

On AVednesday, the fourteenth, the 
work of discharging the cargo into the 
government warehouses commenced, witli- 
out any form of entry or detention other- 
wise. Captain Forbes called on the United 
States consul, noted his protest, and then 
went to Cork in company with that good 
and great man, Theobald IMathew, and 
his brother; was by him introduced to the 
collector, and to other gentlemen of note, 
and hail a very warm reception from all. 
On Thursday, the fifteenth of April, the 
citizens of Cove invited Captain Forbes to 
a banquet. The brilliant company assem- 
bled at six o'clock, ami, after the usual 
regular toasts, — 'The Queen,' and 'Prince 
Albert and the Royal Family-,' — the chair- 
man, Hon. Mr. Power, introduc'ed the 
health of the guest, with some flattering 
encomiums on the generosity' of the people 
of New England ; these courtesies were 
acknowledged by Captain Forbes, in a 
speech which elii-ited uiil)Ounded applause. 
Great harmony and enthusiasm prevailed. 



all classes in politics and religion in the 
town uniting to do honor to the occasion 
and the guest, for the name of FoitUES had 
ever^ywhere become a household word of 
honor and admiration, such as any prince 
of the kingdom might envy. 

An invitation having been extended to 
Captain Forbes to meet the Temperance 
Institute at Cork, on the nineteenth, — the 
institute of which Father JIathew was 
both parent and president, — Captain 
Forbes accepted the same. The occasion 
was one specially made for an expression 
of gratitude to the people of America. In 
consequence of the distress out of doors, 
the regular smrers had been omitted ; but 
at this time the h.all was beautifully orna- 
mented with the flags of England, Ire- 
land, and the United States, and an 
accomplished choir discoursed Yankee 
Doodle, Lucy Long, Jim Crow. Hail 
Columbia, and sundry national Irisli mel- 
odies. The chairman and others presented 
eloquent addresses, tlie ladies clapped 
their gentle hands, and their kerchiefs 
waved welcome and gratitude to America. 
Captain Forbes made a brief reply, in 
which he told the ladies, that, having vis- 
ited Blarney Castle and kissed the stone, 
he had a great deal to say, but found his 
feelings too much excited to admit of his 
saying much. Father Mathew, after having 
had his health proposed, made a short and 
feeling address, appropriately conveying 
to the people of America, the expressions 
of deep and heartfelt thankfulness, " more 
for the sentiment of remembrance than 
for the intrinsic value of the gifts." The 



H 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



485 



ladies having been presented to Captain 
Forbes, that gallant sailor was ever after- 
wards ready to vouch for the fact, that the 
ladies af Cork do shake hands like men ; — 
no formal touching of the ends of the fin- 
gers, chilling the heart, but a regular 
grip of feeliug. It was at this assembly 
also, that the commander of the James- 
town was presented bj- some of the citj' 
artists with a finely executed likeness of 
that ship, representing her as she ap- 
peared just after the Sabrina had cast off 
the tow ropes, and a few moments before 
the anchor was dropiied at tlie government 
dock-yard. From the ladies, too, Captain 
Forbes was the recipient of numerous 
poetical effusions laudatory of the James- 
town's humane mission, and they presented 
him with some choice specimens of their 
handywork, to carry as souvenirs to his 
home. On Wednesday, the twenty-first 
of April, — twenty-four daj's after leaving 
Boston, — the cargo was out and the ship 
ready for sea. On that day, Captain 
Forbes was " at home " to the ladies and 
gentlemen of Cork and Cove, l>y special 
invitation, from twelve to three. The 
company assembled, in large numbers, and 
an entertainment, sui r/i'iieris, was pro- 
vided by the host. Knowing that it 
would be impossible for him to give such 
a multitude a feast, and, indeed, not de- 
siring to do so in a time of famine, Cap- 
tain Forbes nevertheless determined to 
give them something appropriate, and 
accordingly displayed on the table a barrel 
of best American bread, la the cask, flanked 
on each side by a hur/e piece of Fresh 
Pond ice, — wliicli latter the host declared 
was manufactured expressly for the occa- 
sion on the twentj'-fifth of March. These 
principal ingredients were helped out with 
a plenty of ice water, iced lemonade, with 
a little si)rinkling of champagne and 
bread (baked on board i)ut rivaling the 
best), to sa\' nothing of a box of Boston 
gingerbread, which tiie ladies partook of 
S[jaringly, but carried away with them in 
dainty bits, to show at home what could 
be done in Yankee land. Tiie temperance 
band pla3-ed some of their choicest airs, 



and, previous to breaking up, the ladies, 
with their red-coated and blue-coated part- 
ners, sported the light fantastic toe, ou tiie 
spotless decks of the noble ship. 

Among tlie deputations from the dif- 
ferent municipalities received by Captain 
Forbes, was a special one from the citizens 
of Cork, who delivered to him a banner 
for presentation to the city of Boston. 
This was accompanied by an address 
couched in the most appropriate language 
of personal and public gratitude. Indeed, 
the praises of free, liappy, generous 
America, were sounded by ever}' tongue. 

The arrangements made by Captain 
Forbes for the distribution of the cargo 
were with a committee of gentlemen of 
the very highest character and represent- 
ing all shades of politics and all creeds in 
religion, thus guaranteeing that the seed 
would be sown to good account both in the 
hearts and stomachs of the poor Irish, as 
well as in the remembrance of the better- 
off classes. That the necessities of Ire- 
land at this time were not at all exagger- 
ated b}' the ciy and wassail that went 
forth from her bosom, into the ears of 
the civilized world, Captain Forlies fully 
affirms from his personal routine of ob- 
servation. He states that, in company 
with Father Mathew, he went, on a cer- 
tain day, only a few steps out of one of 
the principal streets of Cork, into a lane ; 
it was more than the valley of the shadow 
of death, — it was the valley of death and 
pestilence itself. Enough was to be seen 
in five minutes to appall the stoutest 
heart — hovels crowded with the sick and 
dying, without floors, without furniture, 
and with beds of dirty straw covered with 
still more filthy' shreds and patches of 
humanity ; some called for water to Father 
JIathew, and otiiers for a dying blessing. 
From this very small sample of the jire- 
vailing destitution, the visitors proceeded 
to a public soup kitchen, under a shed, 
guarded by police officers ; here a large 
boiler containing rice, meal, an<l so forth, 
was at work, while hundreds of specters 
stood without, begging for some of this 
soup, which Captain Forbes did not hesi- 



486 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



tatc afterwards to declare would be refused 
by well-bred pigs in his own country I 

AVitli reference to the last observation, 
however, it ma}- be remarked that it was 
made with not the least disrespect to the 
benevolent who provided the means and 
who ordered tlie ingredients. Indeed, the 
demand for immediate relief was so great, 
that, if the starving could be kept alice, 
it was all that could be expected. The 
energies of the poor had become so 
cramped an<l (leadened by want and suf- 
fering of every type, that they cared only 
for sustenance, and they were unable to 
earn it ; crowds flocked in from the coun- 
try to the city, and the liospitals and jails 
and ponr-houses were full to overflowing, 
the numbers that died daily simply mak- 
ing room for those wOio were soon also to 
die. Every corner of the streets was filled 
wit!) I)ale, care-worn creatures, the weak 
leading and supporting the weaker, women 
assailing the passer-by at ever}' turn, with 
famished babes, imploring alms — and woe 
to the man who gave to them ! Captain 
Forbes himself tried it! lie gave six- 
pences, with wliiib to the extent of a pound 
sterling he IkuI provided himself; occa- 
sionally, as pursued with Father JIatliew 
in company, he cast a sixpence back to the 
crowd, and like the traveler who was pur- 
sued by hungr}' wolves, and who tlirew 
out a little something to distract their 
attention, the captain passed on at a 
quicker pace until protection could be 
found from the heart-rending appeals of 
the poor creatures, by going into a store 
and finally escaping by the back door; 
the^-, however, flnding the man who thus 
had silver to give, unearthed, renewed the 
pursuit, and ho finally took shelter on 
board a steamer. 

At half-past three, of the afternoon 
of April twenty -second, the Jamestown 
started from Cork, in tow of her majesty's 
steamer Zephyr, on her return voyage, 



which she accomplished b}- the fifteenth 
of May, after an absence of seven weeks 
and one hour from the navy yard, during 
which time there were resting upon her 
the best wishes and prayers of millions, — 

■ and it seemed as if heaven particularly 
smiled upon the noble vessel, in lier 
speedy passage out and lier safe return. 
The mission must always be regarded as 
one of the grandest events in the history 

1 of nations, — one of the noblest charities 
on record. In token of their gratitude 
and esteem, the people ot Cork and its 
vicinity presented to Captain Forbes a 
large and mass3' salver of solid silver, 
measuring thirty inches in length by 
twentv in breadth, a rich and most beauti- 
ful piece of workmanship, valued at nearly 
one thousand dollars, and inscribed as 
follows : ' Presented to Robert Bennett 
Forbes, Esq., of Boston, United States, 
by the Inhabitants of the County and 
City of Cork, Ireland, in acknowledgment 
of his philantliropic mission to their 
country, and successful exertions for the 
relief of their suffering fellow country- 
men during the fearful famine of 1.S4G-7, 
when, mainly through tin- instrumen- 
talitv of Cajitaiu Forbes, large su]>plie3 
of food, the voluntary contril>utions of 
the inhabitants of the United States, 
more jjarticularly of New England, were 
carried to Ireland in the United States 
ships-of-war Jamestown and Maceclonian 
(the former granted to him jiersonally by 
the American Government, although en- 
gaged in a Mexican war), the Reliance 
and Tartar, and distributed amongst a 
starving and grateful people.' Accom- 
panying this magnificent piece of ])late, 
was a Memorial Address, inclosed in a 
splendidly ornamental frame, representing 
the Irish Harp, and surmounted by the 
American Eagle, the Iri>h and American 
Flags, and a figure of the Jamestown, all 
appropriately grouped. 



Ill 



LVI. 

GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZU- 
MAS, AS THE CONQUEROR OF MEXICO.— 1847. 



General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles, from Palo Alto to Buena Vista. — Flight of 
Santa Anna in the Dead of Midniglit. — The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly from the Towers 
of tlie National Palace. — First Foreign Cai}ital Ever Occupied by the United States Army. — Peace 
on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the Two Powers. — Disputed Points of 
Boundary. — Mexico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor Sent to the Rio Grande — A Speedy Collision. 
— Declaration of War by Congress. — Santa Anna Leads the Mexicans. — Battles of Palo Alto and 
Resaca de la Palma — Raging Fight at Monterey : Its Fall. — Santa Anna's War like Summons — It is 
Treated with Contempt. — His Awful Defeat at Buena Vista — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand 
Miles — Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Churubusco, etc — Scott's Order, " On to Mexico ! " — 
Huzzas and a Quickstep.— Terrific Storming of Chapultepec. — Scott Holds the Key to Mexico. — 
The Last Obstacle Overcome. — Grand Entrance of the Victors. — Territorial Gain to the United States. 



"Under tlic favor of God, the v»lor of this armv. after manr elorious victories, hs9 hoiflted the flag of Our country in the Capital of Mex* 
ico, and on the Palace of ita Governmeut."— Gkm&sal Scutt'tu uis Atiur, bcrrKMBEB Jl4th. 






^ 



^.'./ 



■'r: 



pSw,: 



p-^/v- 



-STuKMlNG OF CHAPITLTEFEC. 



•i*1 



to the annexation of Texas -?■ 
to tlie United States, war broke out between 
this country and Mexico, in 1846, under proc- ~~**^^!: 

lamation by President Polk, in pursuance of formal declar- ' . 
ation of hostilities in Ma}' of that year, promulgated by 
congress. Claiming Texas as a portion of its own domain, 
Mexico had sturdily resisted its separation from her con- 
trol, either as an independent power, or as a portion of the 
United States. But, being forced, finally, to yield these points, 
fresh troubles soon succeeded, arising from the disputed question of A' 
boundary. Mexico claimed to the Neuces, and the United States 
to the Rio Grande del Norte. Santa Anna, then at the head of j 
Mexican affairs, insisted on the vigorous assertion of Mexico's 



'^-vf' 




488 



OUR FIRST CENTURV.— 1770-1876. 



claims, and military force was brought into 
retjuisitiou to this end. It was this jiro- 
ct'L'diug, as alleged, that induced counter 
military movements on the part of the 
United States, under the lead of General 
Taylor, and in a short time collision and 
open war followed, the belligerents putting 
their best armies and officers into the field, 
the contest finally culminating in the occu- 
pancy of the Mexican capital by a victori- 
ous army under General Scott, and in the 
signing of a treaty by which the United 
States came into possession — for a mere 
nominal pecuniary equivalent — of the 
whole of Texas, New Mexico, and Upper 
California. 

The principal battles and other military 
niuvenients which rendered this conflict 
memorable, were the siege of Fort ISrowu, 




the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca de la 
Raima, tlie fall of Monterey, the battle of 
Uuena Vista, Doniphan's expedition to 
Chihuahua and march of five thousand 
miles, the reduction of Vera Cruz, the bat- 
tles of Cerro Gordo, Contreras, and Chu- 
rubusco, the storming of Cha]mltcpec, and 
tlie entrance of Scott into the halls of 
the Montezuraas, as the conqueror of the 
enemy's chief city, — the first instance of a 
foreign capital being entered bij the army 
of the United States. The latter event, 
and the battle of Buena Vista, formed the 
most important movements during tlie 
campaign, and have earned a conspicuous 



place — as have also their heroes, Taylor, 
and Scott, — in American military- history. 
It was on the twenty-second of February, 
1847, that Taylor made those final disjio- 
sitions of his troops that ended in the fa- 
mous victory of Buena Vista, and wliich, 
in the brief lajise of three }"ears thereafter, 
carried the victor to the presidential chair, 
as chief magistrate of the United States. 

The first evidence directly afforded the 
United States troops of the presence of 
Santa Anna, was a white flag, dimly seen 
fluttering in the breeze, and which proved, 
on the arrival of its bearer, to be what the 
Americans ironically termed a henerolent 
missire from Santa Anna, proposing to 
General Taylor terms of unconditional sur- 
render ; promising good treatment; stat- 
ing that his force amounted to twenty 
thousand men ; that the defeat of the 
invaders was inevitable, and that, to 
spare the effusion of blood, his propo- 
sition should be complied with. 

But, strange to say, the American 
general showed the greatest ingrati- 
tude ; evinced no appreciation what- 
ever of Santa Anna's kindness, and 
informed him, substantially, that 
whether his force amounted to twenty 
thousand or fifty thousand, it was 
equally a matter of indifference — thi 
terms of adjustment must he ur- 
ranrjed bij gunpowder. Santa Anna's 
rage at this response to his conceited 
summons was at the boiling point. 
Skirmishingcontinued until night- 
fall, and was renewed at an early hour the 
next morning, the struggle deepening in in- 
tensity as the da}' advanced, until the battle 
raged with great fury along the entire line. 
After various successes and reverses, the 
fortunes of the day showed on the side of 
the Americans. Santa Anna saw the 
crisis, and true to his instincts, sought to 
avert the result by craft and cunning. He 
sent a white flag to General Taylor, in- 
quiring, in substance, " what he wanted." 
Tliis was at once believed to be a mere 
ruse to gain time and re-colloct bis men ; 
but the American general thought fit to 
notice it, and General AVool was deputed 



A 



GREAT AND MEMOEAL'LE EVENTS. 



489 



to meet the representative of Santa Anna, 
and to say to him tliat what was " wanted '' 
was peace. Before the interview could be 
liad, the Mexicans treacherously re-opened 
their fires. The flag, however, had accom- 




plished the ends which its wily originator 
designed — a re-enforcement of his cavalry 
during the parley, — and, with liis courage 
thus restored, lie determined to charge 
Taylor's line. Under cover of tlieir artil- 
lery, horse and foot advanced upon the 
American batteries, the latter, against all 
disadvantages, nobly maintaining their po- 
sitions, by the most lirilliant and daring 
efforts. Such was the rapidity of their 
transitions that officers and ])ieces seemed 
eriipowered with ubiquitj', and upon cav- 
alry and infantry alike, wherever they 
appeared, they poured so destructive a fire 
as to silence the enemy's artillery, compel 
his whole line to fall back, and soon to 
assume a sort of subdued movement, indi- 
cating anything but victor^-. 

Again, the spirits of Ta^dor's troops rose 
high. The Mexicans appeared thoroughly 
routed; and while their regiments and 
divisions were flying in dismaj', nearly all 
the American light troops were ordered 
forward, and followed them with a most 
terrible fire, mingled with shouts which 
rose above the roar of artillery. The pur- 
suit, however, was too hot, and, as it 
evinced, too clearly, the smallness of the 
pursuing force, the Mexicans, with a sud- 



denness which was almost magical, rallied, 
and turned back with furious onset. They 
came in mj-riads, and fur a while the car- 
nage was dreadful on both sides, though 
there was but a handful to oppose to the 
frightful masses so rapidly hurled into the 
combat, and which could no more be re- 
sisted than could an avalanche of thunder- 
bolts. "All in lost!" was the avy — or at 
least the thought — of many a brave Amer- 
ican, at this crisis. 

Thrice during the day, when all seemed 
lost but honor, did the artillery, by the 
abilitj' with which it was maneuvered, roll 
back the tide of success from the enemy, 
and give such overwhelming destructive- 
ness to its effect, that the army was saved 
and the glory of the American arms main- 
tained. 

The battle had now raged with variable 
success for nearly ten hours, andj by a sort 
of mutual consent, after the last carnage 
wrought among the Mexicans by the artil- 
lery, both parties seemed willing to pause 
upon the result. Night fell. Santa Anna 
had been repulsed at all points ; and ere 
the sun rose again upon the scene, the 
Mexicans had disappeared, leaving behind 
them only the hundreds of their dead and 
dying, whose bones were to whiten their 
native hills. The loss was great on both 
sides, in this long, desperate, and sanguin- 
ary conflict, the force of the Mexicans be- 
ing as Ave to one of the Americans. 

Santa Anna was bold and persevering, 
and turned Taylor's left flank by the 
mountain paths with a large force, when 
all seemed to be lost. But the light artil- 
lery and the mounted men saved the day. 
Throughout the action General Taylor was 
where shots fell hottest and thickest, two 
of which passed through his clothes. He 
constantly evinced the greatest quickness 
of perception, fertility of resource, and a 
cool, unerring judgment not to be baffled. 

One of the bravest deeds of this struggle 
was that performed liy IMnjor I)ix, who, 
when the air was rent with shouts of 
triumph from the enemy, over the inglori- 
ous flight of an In<liana regiment, dashed 
off in pursuit of the deserters, and seizing 



490 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the colors of tlic regiment as he reached 
them, appealed to the men to know 
whi'thfT tiiey had determined thus to turn 
their hacks upon their country ! He was 
answered hy three cheers. A jiortion of 
the regiment immediately rallied around 
him, and was reformed by the officers. 
Dix, in person, then led them towards the 
enemy, until one of the men volunteered 
to take tlie flag. 

Admiration and honor were showered 
upon Taylor, who had thus, with his little 
ami}' of between four and five thousand 
wen, met and completely vanquished 
Santa Anna, the greatest of Mexican sol- 



diers, with his army of twentj' thousand. 
It was a contest whii'li, with his other vic- 
torious battles at I'alo Alto, Kesa<'a de la 
Palma, and Monterey, covered the hitherto 
almost unknown name of Taylor with a 
halo of gliiry from one end of tiie land to 
the other; gave immense prestige to 
American arms ; and created, perhaps too 
largely, the feeling that the conquering 
party might now go on and overrun the 
country, and dictate its own terms of peace. 
Hut there were strong positions yet to be 
mastered, and gory fields yet to be won, 
before that most of all coveted achieve- 
ment — the capture and occupation of the 
Mexican capital — was to crown the suc- 




cesses of the invaders and prove that the 
enemy's country was at their mercy. 

As events proved, the last named great 
act in this military drama was reserved 
for General Scott, who had been appointed 
by the government at Washington, su- 
preme commander of the army in Mexico. 
Taylor had led the way, by his splendid 
movements and victories, for the accom- 
plishment of all that yet remained to be 
done. Vera Cruz, the key to the Mexican 
capital, with the almost impregnable fort- 
ress of San Juan de Ulloa, soon fell into 
the hands of the Americans, after a terri- 
bly destructive cannonade. A similar fate 
befell nearly all the principal ports. 
Again was Santa Anna defeated on 
the embattled heights of Cerro 
Gordo, in whicli tremendous strong- 
lioKl he had attempted with fifteen 
thousand men, but in vain, to op- 
pose Scott, who had only six thou- 
sand. To this succeeded the battle 
of Contreras, in which the Mexi- 
cans, led by General Valencia, who 
had an arm}' of some eight thou- 
sand, were routed with terrible 
slaughter, by Gen. P. F. Smith. 
In a few months fro.m this time, 
the plains of (,'hurubusco witnessed 
another battle, the deadly carnage 
and mortal results of which, no 
pen could adequately portray, the 
-j^.^ -J Americans taking possession of 
every point, as triumphant victors. 
The prize was not yet won, but orders 
were in due time given by General Scott 
to march to the capital. Deiifcnimj rlicers 
and a quickstep greeted this order, on its 
promulijiition. Two strong positions of 
the enemy were, however, yet to bo over- 
come, namely, that of Molino del Rey, and 
the strong castle of Chapultepec, before 
the city could be reached. The first- 
named was captured by General Worth, 
after a most bloody fight, and with the 
loss of nearly one-fourth of his men, the 
latter having at last found it necessary to 
burst open an entrance, and with the bay- 
onet to meet the enemy hand to hand. 
New and more terrible struggles were 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



491 



soon to take place. On the eleventh of 
September, the cavalry ■svere ordered to 
make a movement on the sloping plains 
above Chapultepec and Tacubaya, and 
attack, if possible, the latter place. How- 
ever, the enemy kept a diligent look-out, 
and no sooner did the cavalry begin to 
move out of town than their scouts ap- 
peared upon the spot, and, soon after, a 
small force appeared to dispute the ap- 
proach. 

On the twelfth, the cannon began to 
roar again, south and west, at the ijarita 
of San Antonio and Chapultepec, but it 
soon became evident to them where the 
real attack was intended, for on the south 
side the fire was slackened, and after a 




time it left off altogether — while, on the 
west it grew more and more violent, until, 
at about eight o'clock, the Americans 
opened their battery of mortars upon the 
castle, and began to throw shell with terri- 
ble precision. 

General Pillow's approach, on the west 
side, lay through an open grove, filled with 
sharpshooters, who were speedily dis- 
lodged; when, being up with the front of 
the attack, and emerging into open space, 
at the foot of a rocky acclivity, that gal- 
lant leader was struck down by an agoniz- 
ing wound. The broken acclivity was still 
to be ascended, and a strong redoubt, 
midway, to be carried, before reaching the 
castle on the hei<'hts. The advance of the 



brave men, led by brave officers, though 
necessarily slow, was unwavering, over 
rocks, chasms, and mines, and under the 
hottest fire of cannon and musketry. The 
redoubt now yielded to resistless valor. 

Shout after shout rung wildly through 
the victorious ranks of the assailants, 
announcing to the castle the fate that 
impended. The Mexicans were steadily 
driven from shelter to shelter. The re- 
treat allowed no time to fire a single mine, 
without the certainty of blowing up friend 
and foe. Those who, at a distance, at- 
tempted to apply matches to the long 
trains, were shot down by the Americans. 
There was death below as well as above 
ground. At length the ditch and wall of 
the main work were reached, and the 
scaling-ladders were brought up and 
planted by the storming parties. Some of 
the daring spirits in the assault were cast 
down, killed or wounded ; but a lodgment 
was soon made, streams of heroes followed, 
all opposition was overcome, and several of 
the regimental colors were flung out from 
the upper walks, amid long continued 
shouts and cheers. All this sent dismay 
into the capital. To the Americans, no 
scene could have been more animating or 
glorious. 

General Quitman performed a distin- 
guished part in these movements, nobly 
sustained by his officers and men. 
Simultaneously with the movement on 
the west, he gallantly approached the 
south-east of the same works over a cause- 
way with cuts and batteries, and defended 
by an army strongly posted outside, to the 
east of the worlvs. These formidable 
obstacles had to be faced, with but little 
shelter for troops or space for maneuvering. 
Deep ditches, flanking the causewaj-, 
made it difficult to cross on either side into 
the adjoining meadows ; and these, again, 
were intersected by other ditches. The 
storming part}', however, carried two 
batteries that were in the road, took some 
guns, with many prisoners, and drove the 
enemy posted behind in support ; they 
then crossed the meadows in front, under 
a heavy fire, and entered the outer 



492 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



49^ 



inclosure of Chapultepec just in time to 
join in the final assault from the west. 
Captain Barnard, of the voltgeur regiment, 
was the first to plant a regimental color. 

During the period covered by these 
exciting scenes, the firing in and about 
the castle liad three times apparently 
reached its crisis or climax, and then 
suddenly slackened, inducing the belief in 
some quarters that the assault had been 
beaten off ; but, at about half-jsast nine 
o'cloek the Mexican flag suddenly disap- 
peared, a blue flag was shown, and directly 
after the stars and stripes arose and waved 
over the conquered fortress. Immediately 
after having taken the place, the Americans 
hauled down the light field-pieces from the 
castle, and fired them upon the retreating 
^.enemj', upon whose heels they closely 
followed. The firing came nearer, and at 
about two o'clock in the afternoon, the 
innermost intrenchments began to open 
their fire, and balls to whistle in the town. 
It was not long before the forces of 
Worth and Quitman — the former proceed- 
ing by the San Cosme aqueduct, and the 
latter along that of Belen. Scott joined 
the advance of Worth, within the suburb, 
and beyond the turn at the junction of the 
aqueduct with the great highwaj- from the 
west to the gate of San Cosme. In a short 
time, the troops were engaged in a street 
fight against the Mexicans posted in 
ganlens, at windows, and on housetops — 
all flat, with parapets. Worth ordered 
forward the mountain howitzers of 
Cadwallader's brigade, preceded by skir- 
mishers and pioneers, with pickaxes and 
crowbars, to force windows and doors, or 
to burrow through w.alls. The assailants 
were soon in unequality of position fatal 
to the enemy. By eight o'clock in the 
evening, Worth had carried two batteries 
in this suburb. There was but one more 
obstacle, the San Cosme gate (custom- 
house), between him and the great square 
in front of the cathedral and palace — the 



heart of the city. There was a lull in the 
firing, and already the inhabitants were 
hoping to pass a quiet niglit, when 
suddenly the dull roar of a heavy mortar 
resounded close by the town, and shells 
with fiery tails came with portentous 
energy. The gallant Quitman pressed on, 
regardless of gates, batteries, or citadels, 
and conrpdled Scnia Anna to break up in 
the middle of the night and retreat iritli 
all his force, leaving the citj' to the mercy 
of the victors. He turned northward to 
the villa of Gaudaloupe, and after a short 
rest retreated on to San Juan de 
Teotihuacan. 

On Tuesday morning. September four- 
teenth, 1847, the first American column 
made its appearance in the streets of 
Mexico, and came on in dense masses 
through the principal avenues — Calle San 
Francisco, del Correo, de la Professa, and 
the two Plateros, in a straight line from 
the Alameda up to the palace and Plaza- 
Maj-or. Tlie Mexican colors now disap- 
peared from the palace, a regimental flag 
took their place, and directly afterwards 
the stars and stripes were flung out and 
waved proudly from the Halls of the 
Montezumas, — the first strange banner 
that had ever floated from that jialace 
since the conquest of Cortez. 

On entering the palace, one of General 
Scott's first acts was to require from his 
comrades-in-arms, their thanks and grat- 
itude to God, both in public and pri- 
vate worship, for the signal triumphs 
which they had achieved for their coun- 
try ; warning them also against disorders, 
straggling, and drunkenness. 

Thus was the prowess of American arms 
successfull3- asserted, the conquered nation 
being also compelled to cede the immensely 
valuable territory of New Mexico and 
Upper California to the United States, 
and accepting the lower Rio Grande, from 
its mouth to El Paso, as the boundary of 
Texas. 



LVII. 

EXPEDITIOJT TO THE RIVER JORDAN AND THE DEAD 
SEA, BY LIEUT. AV. F. LYXCII.-tS4T. 



Tlic Sacre.l River Successfully Circumnavigate 1 and Surveyed.-Twenty Days and Nigl.ts Upon the 
•■ Sea of Death "-It is Explored, and Sounded, and Its Mysteries Solved.-Slrange IMienoniena and 
Unrelieved Desolation of the Locality-Important Results to Science-Zeal in Geographical 
Research—Interest in the Holy Land-American Inquiry Aroused -Equipment of Lynch 8 
Expedition -On Its Way to the Orient.-Anchoring Under Mount Carmel.-Passage Down 
the Jordan -It is Traced to Its Source-Wild and Impressive Scenery .-Rose Colored 
Clouds of .ludea.-Configuration of the Dead Sea— Dense, Buoyant, Brinv Waters.-Smartmg of the 
Hands and Facc.-Salt, Ashes, and Sulphureous Vapors, etc.-Tradition Ammg the Ar.ahs.-Sad 
Fate of Former Explorers.-Temperature of Tliis Sea -Submerged Plains at Its Bottom -Sheeted 
with I'hosphorescent Fo.am -Topography, Width and Depth.-" Apples of Sodom •' Described.- 
The Tillar of Salt, Lot's Wife. 



*' Bui her«. »bove, aroiinil, below. 

In trminlaiti or in clrn. 

Nor tree, nor Mhriil), nor flower, 

Nor Biiiihl of vu-cctntive power. 

The wfariftl eve may ktn ! 

Bnt all it" r<.ckH ul runtloni thrown.— 

Black wavea,— bar* Lragit.— and lieapa of atone. 




YIELDING to the earne.^t desire of in-lividuals and societies interested in tlie 
iidvuncement of geographical science, tlie United States government lent its 
sanction and co-operative aid to the expedition planned in 1847, hy Lieutenant 
W. F. Lynch, an accomplished naval officer, for the exploration and 
survey of the Dead Sea. The results of this expedition, so replete 
with information of the most important and deeply interesting charac- 
ter concerning a spot so singular in its sacred and historic associations, 
as well as mysterious in its physical peculiarities, fully justified the 
zeal with which it was advocated and the high auspices under which it 
eiiil)arkcd. 

The names of those whose services were accepted by the commander, 
as members of the expedition, and whose qualifications were believed 
to fit them peculiarlv for the undertaking, were as follows: Lieu- 
tenant, John B. Dale ; passed-midshipman, E. Aulick ; lieibarist, 
, Francis E. Lynch ; master's mate, J. C. Thomas: navigators, Jfessrs. 
Overstock, Williams, Homer, Eead, Robinson, Lee, Lock- 
-=^i^C="><'8S> ^vood, Albertson, Lovelaiid. At Constantinople, Mr. Henry 
Bedloe associated himself with the. expedition, and, on their 
arrival at Beirut. Dr. H. J. Anderson became a member of the party, making the num- 
ber sixteen in all. The services of an intelligent native Syrian, named Ameung, were 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



495 



also obtained at Beirut, who acted in the 
capacity of interpreter, and rendered other 
important aid. 

By direction of tlie government at 
Wasliington, the store-ship Supply was 
placed at the disposal of Lieutenant Lynch, 
and, as the vessel would otherwise be in 
ballast, she was laden with stores for the 
United States naval squadron, then in the 
Mediterranean. 

The Supply sailed from New York, 
November twenty-first, and in about three 
months anchored off Smyrna. From the 
latter place, the officers of the expedition 
proceeded to Constantinople in the 
Austrian steamer, witli tlie view of ob- 
taining from the Sultan, through the 
American minister, permission to pass 
through a part of his dominions in Syria, 
for the purpose of exploring the Dead Sea, 
and of tracing the Jordan to its source. 
The recejition by the young sultan was in 
all respects favorable; the authorization 
was granted, and the sultan expressed 
much interest in the undertaking, request- 
ing to be informed of the results. 

Thus armed with all necessary powers, 
the officers returned to Smj-rna, rejoining 
the Supply. On the tenth of jNIarch, the 
expedition sailed for the coast of Syria, 
and, after touching at Beirut and other 
places, came to anchor in the Bay of Acre, 
under Mount Carmel, March twenty- 
eighth. The explorers, with their stores, 
tents, and boats, having landed, an en- 
campment was formed on the beach, 
and the Supply departed to deliver to the 
naval squadron the stores with which it 
was laden, with orders to be back in time 
for the re-eml)arkation of the exploring 
party. 

The first difficulty of a practical nature 
was how to get the boats across to the Sea 
of Tiberias. The boats, mounted on 
trucks, were laden with the stores and 
baggage of the party, and all was arranged 
most conveniently — only the horses could 
not be persuaded to draw. The harness 
was also found to be much too large for 
the small Syrian horses ; and although 
they manifestly gloried in the strange 



equipment, and voluntarily performed 
sundry gay and fantastic movements, the 
operation of pulling was altogether averse 
to their habits and inclinations. At last, 
the plan suggested itself of trying camels. 
On being harnessed, three of the huge 
animals to each truck, they marched off 
with the trucks, the boats upon them, 
with perfect ease, to the great delight of 
the sojourners, and equal astonishment to 
the natives. 

All the arrangements being now 
perfected, the travelers took their de- 
parture from the coast, on the fourth of 
April. They were accompanied by a fine 
old man, an Arab nobleman, called Sherif 
Hazza, of Mecca, the thirty-third lineal 
descendant of the prophet. As he ap- 
peared to be highly venerated by the 
Arabs, Lieutenant Lj-nch thought it would 
be a good measure to induce him to join 
the party, and he was prevailed upon to 
do so. Another addition to the part}' was 
made next day in the person of a Bedouin 
sheikh of the name of Akil, with ten well- 
armed Arabs, or fifteen Arabs in all, 
including servants. 

But little information concerning the 
Jordan could be obtained at Tiberias, and 
it was therefore with considerable con- 
sternation that the course of that river 
was soon found to be interrupted bj' 
frequent and most fearful rapids. Thus, 
to proceed at all, it often became necessary 
to plunge with headlong velocity down the 
most appalling descents. So great were 
the difficulties, that, on the second evening, 
the boats were not more than twelve miles 
in direct distance from Tiberias. 

The banks of the Jordan were found 
beautifully studded with vegetation; the 
cultivation of the ground, however, not so 
extensive as it might be, and as it would 
be, if the crops were secured to the 
cultivator from the desperadoes who scour 
the region. The waters of the Jordan, 
clear and transparent except in the im- 
mediate vicinity of the rapids and fall?, 
are well calculated for fertilizing the 
valleys of its course. There are often 
plenty of fish seen in its deep and shady 



496 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



course. Tlie wiilo and ileejiIy-ilopressoJ 
plain through vliicli tlic river flows, is 
gciiprally Iiarri'ii. tri-oless, and without 
venluri' ; ami the mountains, or rather, 
the cliffs and slopes of the risen uplands, 
present, for the most jiart, a wild and 
cheerless aspect. The verdure, sucli as it 
is, may only be sought on and near the 
lower valley or immediate ch.innel of the 
Jordan. No one statement can <ipply to 
the scenery' of its entire course; but this 
description given of the central part of the 
river's course, is a fair specimen of the 
kind of scenery which the passage of the 
river offers. 

Lieutenant L^mch describes the charac- 
ter of the whole scone of this dreary 
waste as singularly wild and impressive. 




Looking out upon the desert, bright with 
reverberated light and heat, was, he says, 
like beholding a conflagration from a 
window at twilight. E.ach detail of the 
strange and solemn scene could bo ex- 
amined as through a lens. The moun- 
tains towards the west rose up like 
islan<l3 from the sea, with the billows 
heaving at their bases. The rough peaks 
caught the slanting sunlight, while sliarp 
black shadows marked the sides turned 
from the rays. Deep rooted in the plain, 
the bases of the mountains heaved the 
garment of the earth away, and rose 
abruptly in naked pyramidal crags, each 
scar and fissure as palpably distinct as 
though within reach, and yet were far 
distant. Toward the south, the ridges 
and higher masses of the range, as they 



swept away in the distance, were aerial and 
faint, and softened into dimness by a pale 
transparent mist. The j)lain that sloj)ed 
away from the bases of the hills was 
broken into ridges and multitudinous cone- 
like mounds, resembling tumultuous water 
at the meeting of two adverse tides, and 
presented a wild and checkered tract of 
land, with spots of vegetation flourishing 
upon the frontiers of irreclaimable sterility. 
A low, pale, and yellow ridge of conical 
hills marks the termination of the liigher 
terrace, beneath which sweeps gently this 
lower plain with a similar undulating 
surface, li.ilf redeemed from barrenness by 
sparse verdure and thistle-covered hillocks. 
Still lower was the valley of the .Ionian — 
the sacred river I — its banks fringed with 
perpetual verdure ; winding in a thousand 
graceful mazes ; the pathwaj' cheered 
with songs of birds, and its own clear 
voice of gushing minstrelsy ; its course a 
bright line in this cheerless waste. 

Concerning an earlier portion of the 
river's course, about one-third from the 
lake of Tiberias, Lieutenant Lynch say.s, 
that, for hours in their swift descent the 
boats floated down in silence — the silence 
of the wilderness. Hero anil there were 
spots of solemn beauty. The numerous 
birds sang with a music strange and 
manifold ; the willow branches were 
spread upon the stream like tresses, and 
creeping mosses and clambering weeds, 
w^ith a multitude of white and silvery little 
flowers, looked out from among them ; and 
the cliff swallow wheelerl over the falls, or 
wont at his own will, darting through the 
arched vistas, and shadowed and slinped 
by the meeting foliage on the banks. 
There was but little variety in the scenery 
of the river; the streams sometimes 
washed the bases of the sandy hills, at 
other times meandered between low banks, 
generally fringed with trees and fragrant 
with blossoms. Some points presented 
views exceedingly picturesque. The 
western shore is peculiar from the high 
calcavious limestone hills which form a 
barrier to the stream when swollen by the 
efflux of the Sea of Galilee, during the 



GREAT AJ^B MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



497 



winter and early spring ; •while the left 
and eastern bank is low and fringed with 
tamarisk and willow, and occasional!}' a 
thicket of lofty cane, and tangled masses 
of shrubs and creeping plants, gave it the 
appearance of a jungle. 

No less than twenty-two nights were 
spent by the party upon the lake. During 
this time the whole circuit of it was made, 
including the back-water at the southern 
extremity, which had never before been 
explored in boats. Every object of in- 
terest upon the banks was examined : 
and the lake was crossed and recrossed in 
a zigzag direction through its whole 
extent, for the purpose of sounding. The 
figure of the lake, as .sketched by the 
party, is somewhat different from that 
usually given to it. The breadth is more 
uniform throughout ; it is less narrowed 
at the northern extremity, and less 
widened on approaching the peninsula in 
the south. In its general dimensions it 
is longer, but is not so wide as usually 
represented. Its length by the map is 
forty miles, by an average breadth of 
about nine miles. The water, a nauseous 
compound of bitters and salts. 



A fresh north wind was blowing as they 
rounded the point. They endeavored to 
steer a little to the north of west, to make 
a true west course, and threw the patent 
log overboard to measure the distance ; 
but the wind rose so rapidly that the 
boats could not keep head to wind, and it 
became necessary to haul the log in. The 
sea continued to rise with the inci-easing 
wind, which gradually' freshened to a 
gale, and presented an agitated surface of 
foaming brine ; the spraj-, evaporating as 
it fell, left incrustations of salt upon the 
voyagers' clothes, as also their hands and 
faces ; and, while it convej'ed a prickly 
sensation wherever it touched the skin, 
was, above all, exceedingly painful to the 
eyes. The boats, heavily laden, struggled 
sluggishly at first ; but when the wind 
increased in its fierceness, from the density 
of the water it seemed as if their bows 
were encountering the sledge-hammers of 
the Titans, instead of the opposing waves 
of an angry sea. Finally, such was the 
force of the wind, that it was feared both 
boats must founder. Knowing that they 
were losing advantage every moment, and 
that with the lapse of each succeeding one 




VALLEY OF THE JORDAN AND DKAD SEA. 



After giving a sketch of the sights and 
scenes attending the bathing of the pil- 
grims in the Jordan, Lieutenant Lynch 
says that the river, where it enters the sea, 
is inclined towards the eastern shore ; and 
there is a considerable bay between the 
river and the mountains of Belka, in 
Aramon, on the eastern shore of the sea. 
32 



the danger increased, they kept away for 
the northern shore, in the hope of being 
yet able to reach it, — their arms, clothes 
and skin, coated with a greasy salt, and 
their eyes, lips and nostrils, smarting ex- 
cessively. 

But, although the sea had assumed a 
threatening aspect, and the fretted 



498 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(^-1876. 



mountains loomed terrific on either side, 
and salt and ashes mingled with its sand.s, 
and fetid sulj)hureous springs trickled down 
its ravines, the explorers did not despair. 
Awe struck, but not terrified, fearing the 
worst vet hoping for tlie best, ])re]>arations 
were made to spend a dreary night upon 
the dreariest waste ever seen. There is a 
tradition among the Arabs that no one 



the exact topography of its shores, <is- 
certained the temperature, width, depth, 
and velocity of its tributaries, collected 
specimens of every kind, and noted the 
winds, currents, changes of the weather, 
and all atmospheric phenomena. The 
bottom of this sea consists of two sub- 
merged plains, an elevated and a depressed 
one. Through the northern, and largest 




uu. iir HANK of rnK I'Eap mea. 



can venture upon this sea and live, and the 
sad fates of Costigan and Molyneux are 
repeatedly cited to deter such attempts. 
The first one spent a few da3'S, the last 
about twenty hours, and returned to the 
place from whence he had embarked 
without landing on its shores. One was 
found dying upon the shore ; the other 
expired, immediately after his return, of 
fever contracted upon its waters. 

The northern shore is an extensive mud 
flat, with a sandy plain beyond, the very 
type of desolation ; branches and trunks of 
trees lay scattered in every direction — 
some charred and blackened as by fire, 
others white with an incrustation of salt. 
The north-western shore is an unmixed bed 
of gravel, coming in a gradual slope from 
the mountains to the sea. The eastern 
coast is a rugged line of mountains, bare 
of all vegetation — a continuation of the 
Hauran range, coining from the north, and 
extending soutli beyond the scope of 
vision, throwing out three marked and 
seemingly equi-distant promontories from 
its south-eastern extremities. 

Lieutenant Lynch fully sounded the sea, 
determined its geographical position, took 



and deepest one, in a line corresponding 
with the bed of the Jordan, is a ravine, 
which also seems to corres]iond with the 
AVady el-Jeib, or ravine within a ravine, at 
the south end of the sea. 

At one time, the sea was observed to 
assume an aspect peculiarly somber. Un- 
stirred by the wind, it lay smooth and 
unruffled as an inland lake. The great 
evaporation inclosed it in a thin trans]iar- 
ent vapor, its purple tinge contrasting 
strongly- with the extraordinary color of 
the sea beneath, and, where they blended 
in the distance, giving it the appearance 
of smoke from burning sul](hur. It seemed 
a vast caldron of metal, fused but motion- 
less. The surface of the sea was one wide 
sheet of phosi)horcsccnt foam, and the 
waves, as they broke upon the shore, threw 
a sej)ulchral light upon the dead bushes 
and scattered fragments of rocks. The 
exhalations and saline deposits are as un- 
friendly to veget.ible life as the waters are 
to animal existence ; that fruit can be 
brought to perfection there, may therefore 
well be considered improbable. 

The celebrated "Ajijiles of Sodom," so 
often spoken of by ancient and modern 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



499 



writers, are peculiar to this locality. The 
plant is a perennial, specimens of which 
have been found from ten to fifteen feet 
high, and scv.en or eight feet in girth. It 
has a gray, cork-like bark, with long and 
oval leaves. The fruit resembles a large 
smooth apple or orange, and when ripe is 
of a yellow color. It is fair to the eye, 
and soft to the touch, but when pressed, 
it explodes with a puff, leaving in the 
hand only the shreds of the rind and a few 
fibers. It is, indeed, chiefly filled with 
air like a bladder, which gives it the round 
form, while in the center is a pod contain- 
ing a quantity of fine silk with seeds. 
When green, the fruit, like the leaves and 
the bark, affords, when cut or broken, a 
thiekish, white milky fluid. Tliis plant, 
however, which from being in Palestine 
found only on the .shores of the Dead Sea, 
was locally regarded as being the special 
and characteristic product of that lake, is 
produced also in Nubia, Arabia, and Persia. 
Thus, this assumed mystery of the 'Sea of 
Death ' is a simple phenomenon of nature, 
easily explained ; as is also that of the 
alleged fire and smoke of the lake, being, 
as already described, simply mist and 
phosishorescence. 

In regard to the pillar of salt into which 
Lot's wife was turned, — one of the most 
remarkable facts recorded in I10I3' writ, — 
and the continued existence of which has 
always been asserted by the natives, as 
well as by many travelers, Lieutenant 
Lynch asserts that a pillar is tliere to be 
seen ; the same, without doubt, to which 
the reports of the natives and of travelers 
refer. But that this pillar, or any like it, 
is or was that into which Lot's wife was 
transformed, cannot, of course, be demon- 
strated. 

It is a lofty, round pillar, standing ai> 
parently detached from the general mass, 



at the head of a deejj, narrow, and abrupt 
chasm. Immediately pulling in for the 
shore, the lieutenant in comjjanj' with Dr. 
Anderson, went up and examined it. The 
beach was a soft, slimy mud, encrusted 
with salt, and a short distance from the 
water, covered with saline fragments, and 
flakes of bitumen. They found the pillar 
to be of solid salt, cajjped with carbonate 
of lime, cylindrical in front and pyramidal 
behind. The upper or rounded part is 
about forty feet high, resting on a kind of 
oval jjedestal, from forty to sixty feet above 
the level of the sea. It slightly decreases 
in size upwards, crumbles at the top, and is 
one entire mass of crystallization. A prop 
or buttress connects it with the mountain 
behind, and the whole is covered with de- 
bris of a light stone color. Its peculiar 
shape is attributable to the action of the 
winter rains. Lieutenant Lynch gives no 
credit to the representations that connect 
this pillar or column with Lot's wife. 
And this is true of most travelers who have 
visited the spot, though Montague gives it, 
as his opinion, that Lot's wife having lin- 
gered behind, she, while so lingering, be- 
came overwhelmed in the descending fluid, 
and formed the model or foundation for 
this extraordinary column ; a lasting me- 
morial of God's punishing a most deliber- 
ate act of disobedience. 

After an absence of a little more than a 
year. Lieutenant Lynch returned, with his 
companions, to the United States, the ex- 
pedition having been highly successful in 
accomplishing the purpose for which it 
was planned ; comparing most favorably 
in this respect with the results of explora- 
tions made by other parties, and receiving 
the highest encomiums of English review- 
ers, some of whose comments, throwing 
additional light on various points involved 
in the subject, are here presented. 



DISCOVERY 



LVIII. 

OF GOLD AT SUTTER'S 

^■IA.— 1848. 



MILL, CALIFOR- 



Widely Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits of the Precious Metal.— The News Spreads like Wild-fiie 
to the Four Quarters of the Globe. — Overwhelming Tide of Emigration from All Countries — Nucleus 
of a Great Kmpire on the riicific. — California Heuomes the El Dorado of the World and the Golden 
Conimonweallh of the American Union — First Practical Discovery of the Gold. — On John A. Sutter's 
Lanil — Kounil by J. W. Marshall —Simple Accident that Led to It —Marshall's Wild Excitement.— 
Shows Sutter the Golden Grains.— A Dramatic Interview.— The Discovery Kipt Secret —How it 
was Disclosed.— A Heal Wonder of the Age— Trials of the Early Emigrants.— Tlieir Bones Whiten 
the Soil. — All I'rolessions at the Mines — Impetus Given to Commerce. — Life Among the Diggers. — 
Disordered Slate of Society. — Crimes, Outrages, Conflagrations. — Scarcity, Fabulous Prices. — Mining 
by Machinery.— Order and Stability Keached.— Population in 1867, 600,000.— Gold in Ten Years, 
$000,000,000. 



" Gold to fetch, ind goM tn crnd, 
Oolil to borniw. htmI Knld loli-nd, 
(jold to kcfp, ond pold to t.[>«-nd. 
And Bbuoduncc uf gold itiyuruz-o." 




UIMNU Ol'EHATlOXS IV CALU'OIUilA. 



ITIIOUT any exaggeration, it 

may be asserted tliat no modern 

event has been the cause of so 

much romance in real life, — no 

brinuli or sphere of trade, eVL'n though perfected by long 

e.xperience, has called into employment so many of the 

means and instrumentalities of diversified human industry 

and commercial intercourse, — indeed, nothing within the 

memory of man, except the achievements of steam and tlie 

electric telegraph, approaches so nearly to magic, as the 

discover}' of gold, in lu.xurious deposits, on the shores of the 

Pacific, and that, too, in the soil of a territory which, by 

conquest and purchase, had but just fallen, like fruit golden 

ripe, into the lap of the Great Republic. This 

liscovery occurred at Sutter's mill, in Coloma 

county, California, in February, 

1848." 

Here, however, it deserves to 
be stated as a matter of histori- 
_ cal interest, that gold placers 
were worked in certain portions 
of California, long before the 
discovery just mentioned. The 



GREAT AISTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



501 



evidence of tliis appears in a letter ad- 
dressed by Abel Stearns, of Los Angeles, 
to Louis R. Lull, secretary of the Califor- 
nia Society of Pioneers. Mr. Stearns, who 
went to California from Mexico in 1829, 
states that on the 22d of November, 1842, 
he sent by Alfred Robinson — who returned 
from California to the states by way of 
Mexico — twenty ounces California weight, 
or eighteen and three-fourths ounces mint 
weight, of placer gold, to be forwarded by 
him to the United States mint at Phila- 
delphia; the mint assay was returned 
August 6, 1843. This gold was taken 
from placers first discovered in March, 
1842, by Francisco Lopez, a Californian, 
at San Francisquito, about thirty-five miles 
north-west from Los Angeles. It appears 
that Lopez, while resting in the shade with 
some companions, during a hunt for stray 
horses, dug up some wild onions with his 
sheath knife, and in the dirt discovered a 
piece of gold. Searching further, he found 
more pieces, and on returning to town an- 
nounced his discovery. A few persons, 
mostly Sonorians, who were accustomed to 
placer mining in Mexico, worked in the 
San Francisquito placer from this time 
until the latter part of 1846 (when the 
war with the United States disturbed the 
country), taking out some six thousand to 
eight thousand dollars in value, per annum. 
The United States mint certificate for the 
assay made for Mr. Stearns in 1843, is now 
in the archives of the " Society of Califor- 
nia Pioneers." 

Before the great event which made the 
year 1848 so memorable, the influence of 
the United States had already become con- 
spicuous in the affairs of California, and 
had in a degree prepared the way for what 
was to follow. In the words of a British 
writer, the United States spread her actual 
influence long before she planted a flag as 
the sign of her dominion. For two years 
previous to the capture of Monterey, in 
1846, her authoritj' had been paramount in 
California. At length, toward the close of 
the summer of 1845, Fremont appeared in 
the neighborhood of Monterey, whose park- 
like scenery — trees scattered in groups 



over grassy hills, wide sloping fields, plan- 
tations of oak and fir, red-tiled houses, 
yellow-washed church, and white cottages 
— showed in pleasant contrast to the deso- 
late region of the Rocky mountains he had 
left. He was accompanied by some of his 
trappers — men of muscle and daring, 
dressed in deer-skin coats, with formidable 
rifles, and mounted on tall, spare horses. 
They rode in Indian file through the out- 
skirts ; their leader viewed the town, and 
they vanished. Soon again he appeared, 
with an ominous array of thirty-five fol- 
lowers, encamped on a woody height ; was 
commanded to depart, was driven to the 
hills, pursued, and again lost sight of. 
An American ship then sailed into the 
harbor. Fremont was again at Monterey. 
The Californians foresaw the probable 
progress of events, and perhaps secretly 
desired the fostering protection of the 
great republic. While balancing between 
that and independence, two United States 
vessels simultaneously entered the harbors 
of Monterey and San Francisco, and in 
July, 1846, the whole of California came 
under the rule of America. A new era 
was again opened. An immediate change 
appeared. Industry was revived ; deserted 
villages were repeopled ; neglected lands 
were again cultivated ; decaying towns 
were renovated ; and the busy hum of 
toil broke that silence and lethargy which 
brooded over an ill-governed country. 

But another and greater change was at 
hand, to turn the tide of her fortunes' into 
a new, a wider, and more diffusive channel, 
and to raise California from the condition 
of a wild and isolated territory, to be the 
very focus of the world's attention, — the 
spot where innumerable streams of emigra^ 
tion from the four quarters of the world, 
from barbarous and civilized countries, 
pouring across the Rocky Mountains, or 
brought over the sea, from distant shores, 
were to meet in tumultuous confluence, 
and, flowing upon each other, form an 
eddying whirlpool of excitement, such as 
few countries on the globe, in any period 
of their historj', could present to the ob- 
servation of mankind. 



502 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



What is the character of this region, 
independently of its newly discovered 
treasures, at the period mentioned ? It 
is wealthy in many natural resources. Its 
extent is great. From Cape Mendocino, 
at the borders of the United States, to the 
root of the peninsula, is seven hundred 
miles, and Lower California thrusts out 
its vast tongue to an almost equal dis- 
tance. The old region is for the most 
part a broken, hilly, and barren tract of 
land; but occasional plains of ricli fertility 
alternate with the less favored tracts, and 
these formed the sites of the old Jesuit 
missions. Alta California extends from 
the coast to the jirovinces of New Mexico. 
Of the interior desert basin, little is known, 
except that it is a wild, rocky, and woody 
territorj', watered by a few rivers, and 
lakes, rising periodically from the earth, 
and peopled by wandering Indian hordes. 
The Sierra Nevada, or snowy range, di- 
vides the gold region from tlie great des- 
ert basin ; and between this and the sea 
lies another line of mountains, forming a 
valley five hundred miles in length, wa- 
tered by the Sacramento and the San 
Joachim. These streams, forming a junc- 
tion in the center of the valley, diverge 
toward the sea, and jiour in an united 
current into the harbor of San Francisco 
— one of the noblest on the globe. The 
aspect of the country is diversified, and 
full of beauty. Green valleys, glittering 
lakes, and verdant hills, extend along the 
interior borders, backed by the rounded 
spires of the snowy range, whose deep ra- 
vines and caverns are just now ])eo|ile(l liy 



toiling gold-hunters; and these arc drawing 
more wealth from the bleakest, most bar- 
ren, and most neglected spots, than a hus- 
bandman in the course of many years could 
derive from the most luxuriantly cultivated 
land. Along the river banks, light gi-as.sy 
slopes alternate with stony, broken, sandy 
expanses, honej'-combed as it were by 
time, but now swarming with amateur 
delvers. However, the country, as a 
whole, is fertile ; producing re.idily grains, 
vegetables, and fruits, with line timber, 
whilst immense pasture grounds afford 
nourishment to the flocks and herds that 
once formed the principal wealth of Cali- 
fornia. 

Up to the j-ear 1847, so comparatively 
small were the gatiierings of gi'ld, in 
various sections of the globe, that in 




.Mil. I., \^ it 



l;UE OOI.n WAS KinST DISCO%tl(KU, IN 1S4^ 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



503 



reckoning the average produce of the pre- 
cious metal, of all parts of the New and 
Old World for a series of years previous to 
1847, it did not amount to the annual 
value of twenty-five million dollars. 

It was in September, 1847, that Captain 
John A. Sutter, the great pioneer settler 
in California, commenced an undertaking 




JOHN A. SUTTER. 



which led, by a very simple and ordinary 
circumstance, to the first practical dis- 
cover)/ of the prodiijiousli/ valuable gold 
mines of California — the long-sought El 
Dorado of ancient and modern times. 
This undertaking consisted in the erection 
of a saw-mill at Coloma, on a mountainous 
spot about one thousand feet above the 
level of the valley, where the Rio des los 
Americanos pours down from the Sierra 
Nevada to swell the united streams of the 
Sacramento and San Joachim. 

Such an enterprise, in such a region, at 
a time when the political and social con- 
dition of the country was so unsettled and 
uncertain, indicated a mind of energy and 
executive capacity, on the part of the 
projector. And it was even so, in full 
measure, in the case of Captain Sutter. 
He is described, by his biographers, in the 
annals of San Francisco, as an intelligent 
Swiss emigrant, who sailed for and reached 
New York, in July, 1834; but finally 
settled and for several years resided in 
Missouri. The wild west had always 
possessed a charm for him, and he had re- 
moved thither; but now his adventurous 
spirit looked still further towards the setting 



sun, and roved along the waters that sped 
their unknown way to the Pacific. Leav- 
ing family and home, in company with Sir 
William Drummond Stewart, he joined a 
party, under the charge of Captain Tripps, 
of the American Fur Companj', and start- 
ed for the broad valleys of California, 
where he knew that rich and fertile lands 
only awaited an industrious cultivator, and 
where Providence had even a still richer 
yielding field that he knew not of. He 
left the trappers at their rendezvous on 
the Wind river among the Kansas Rocky 
mountains, and with a new party of six 
decided on proceeding to their destination 
by way of Oregon. Crossing the valley of 
the Willamette, he finally arrived at Fort 
Vancouver, and there ascertained that 
innumerable delays must elapse before he 
could reach California. Nothing daunted, 
and apparently urged, like Columbus, to 
accomplish his object despite of fate, 
Captain Sutter sailed for the Sandwich 
Islands, hoping to embark thence direct 
for the Spanish coast. But when he 
arrived there, no vessels were about to sail 
in that direction. Again he threw down 
the gauntlet to fate, and re-embarked for 
Sitka Island, in Russian America, and 
from that immense distance at last reached 
Yerba Buena, July second, 1839. Not 
permitted to land here, he again embarked, 
and was finally allowed to set foot on 
California soil at Monterey. Having suc- 
ceeded in overcoming the Spanish opposi- 
tion to foreign settlers, he obtained the 
permission of Governor Alvarado to locate 
himself in the valley of the Rio del Sacra- 
mento ; more readily granted, perhaps, 
because it was then the abode of savage 
Indians. He explored the Sacramento, 
Feather and American rivers, and in 
August, 1839, about eighteen months after 
he commenced his journey, permanently 
established himself on the latter river, 
with a colony of only three whites and 
eight Kanakas. In a short time, he re- 
moved to the location afterwards known as 
Sutter's Fort, and took possession of the 
surrounding country under a Mexican 
grant, giving to it the name of New 



504 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Helvetia. From this point he cut a road 
to the junction of the Sacramento and 
American rivers, where he established a 
quay or hinding-place, on the site of which 
has since been built the city of Sacramento. 
Here he remained for several years, becom- 
ing possessor of a large amount of land, 
and rapidly carrying on various and ex- 
tensive imjirovements. At one time lie 
had a thousand acres sown in wheat, and 
owned eight thousand neat cattle, two 
thousand horses and mules, as many sheep, 
and a thousand swine. He was appointed 
alcalde of the district by Commodore 
Stockton, and Indian agent by General 
Kearney ; and with all his sympathies 
with this country, his earnest wish was to 
see California brought into the American 
Union. 

Among the followers of Sutter was 
James W. Marsliall, who emigrated from 
New Jersey to Oregon in 1843, and a year 
later went to California. By trade he 
was a carpenter, and to him Captain 
Sutter intrusted the erection of the saw- 
mill at Coloma, where good water-power 
and plenty of lumber had determined its 
location. It w^as this enterprise which led 
to the most famous discovery of gold ever 
known in the history of the globe. How 
this happened, has been differently related 
by different authorities, but perhaps by 
none more authentically than by Mr. 
Dunbar, president of the Traveller's Club 
of New York. The saw-mill was com- 
pleted in January, 1848, and they had 
just commenced sawing lumber, when, on 
the night of February 2d, Marshall 
appeared at Sutter's Fort, his horse in a 
foam and himself presenting a singular 
appearance — all bespattered with mud, 
and laboring under intense excitement. 

And now ensued a scene wliirh can 
scarcely be exceeded in its elements of 
dramatic representation. Marshall imme- 
diately re(piested Captain Sutter to go 
with him into a room where they could be 
alone. This request was granted, and, 
after the door was closed, Marshall asked 
Captain Sutter if he was sure they would 
not be disturbed, and desired that the 



door might be locked. Captain Sutter did 
not know what to make of his actions, and 
he began to think it hazardous to lock 
himself in the room with Marshall, who 
appeared so uncommonly strange. Mar- 
shall being satisfied at last that they 
would not be interrupted, took from his 
pocket a pouch from which he poured 
upon the table about an ounce of yellow 
grains of metal, which he thought would 
prove to be gold. Captain Sutter in(iuired 
where he got it. Marshall stated that in 
the morning, the water being shut off from 
the saw-mill race, as was customary, he 
discovered, in passing through the race, 
shining particles here and there on the 
bottom. On examination, he found them 
to be of metallic substance, and the 
thought flashed over him that tliey might 
be gold. How big with events was this 
point of time! Marshall stated that the 
laborers — white and Indian — had picked 
up some of the particles, and he thought 
a large quantity could be collected. 

Captain Sutter was at first quite 
incredulous as to these particles being 
gold, but happening to have a bottle of 
nitric acid among his stores, he applied 
the test, and, true enough, the yellow 
grains proved to be pure gold. The great 
dim-over)/ was made! 

The account given above agrees sub- 
stantially with Captain Sutter's own 
narrative of the event, namely : That 
Marshall had contracted with him for the 
building of a saw-mill for producing 
lumber, on the south fork of the American 
River, a feeder of the Sacramento. In 
the course of his oi)erations, Marshall had 
occasion to admit the river water into the 
tail-race, for the purpose of widening and 
deepening it by the strength of the 
current. In doing this, a considerable 
quantity of mud, sand, and gravel, was 
carried along with the stream, and 
deposited in a heap at the foot of the tail- 
race. Marshall, when one day examining 
the state of his works, noticed a few 
glittering particles lying near the edge of 
the heap. His curiosity being aroused, 
he gathered some of the sparkling objects; 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



505 



and he at once became satisfied of their 
nature and the vahie of his discovery. All 
trembling with excitement, he hurried to 
his employer and told his story. Captain 
Sutter at first thought it was a fiction, and 
the teller only a mad fool. Indeed, he 
confesses that he kept a sharp eye upon 
his loaded rifle, when he, whom he was 
tempted to consider a maniac, was eagerly 
disclosing the miraculous tale. However, 
his doubts were all at once dispelled when 
Marshall tossed on the table before him 
some of the shining dust. 

Not less interesting is the account given 
of the manner in which the discovery 
became public — owing, as appears by Mr. 
Dunbar's statement, to that which extracts 
both wit and wisdom, as well as folly, from 
the brain of man. After some examin- 
ation, Captain Sutter became satisfied that 
gold in considerable quantities would be 
found in that neighborhood; and while the 
reflections of Marshall were probably con- 
fined to the idea of rapidly acquired 
wealth for himself. Captain Sutter realized 
at once how impossible it would be to hold 
his laborers to their work in carrying on 
his improvements, gathering his crops, and 
avoid being overrun by new-comers, 
should the gold prove abundant and the 
discovery be promulgated. He therefore 
begged the laborers to say nothing about 
the gold for six weeks. His grist-mill and 
some other improvements would then be 
completed, and his crops all gathered. 
The laborers promised to comply with his 
request, and Captain Sutter returned home 
on the fifth of February. But the great 
secret could not long be retained. A 
bottle of whiskey made it known. A 
teamster, whom Captain Sutter had dis- 
patched to the saw-mill with supplies, 
heard of the discovery of gold, and 
managed to obtain some of the precious 
grains. On returning to the fort, he 
immediately went to the neighboring 
store, kept by a Mormon, and demanded a 
bottle of whiskey. This was a cash article 
in that country, and, as the teamster was 
poor pay, the trader refused to sell him 
the whiskey. The man declared he had 



plenty of money, and exhibited some 
grains of gold. The astonished trader, on 
being satisfied that these were gold, gave 
his customer the bottle of whiskey, and 
earnestly inquired where he got the gold. 
The teamster refused to make known the 
secret till he bad imbibed considerable of 
the liquor, when his tongue was loosened, 
and he told all about the discovery of gold 
at Sutter's mill. The wonderful tale 
spread like wild-fire throughout the 
sparsely inhabited territory of California. 
It ran up and down the Pacific coast, 
traversed the continent, reached the 
Atlantic shores, and in a short time the 
story of California's golden treasures had 
startled the whole civilized world. 

Naturally enough, the first rumors, as 
they spread abroad, were lightly tossed 




JAMES W. MARSHALL. 



aside ; but confirmation gave them 
strength, and as each transmission of 
intelligence to the United States carried 
fresh accounts of new discoveries, an 
enthusiastic ardor was awakened, and 
within four months of that eventful day, 
five thousand persons were delving on the 
river's banks, on the slopes, amid the 
ravines, hollows, and caverns in the valley 
of the Sacramento. 

And now, from the vast population of 
the great republic, new streams of emigra- 
tion broke at once to swell that current 
which for years had set noiselessly toward 
the valleys of California. Gradually, the 
knowledge of the auriferous soil was borne 
to the four quarters of the world, and from 



506 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



all the ports of all nations sails were 
spread toward the coasts of that wealthy 
region. As by a magnetic impulse, the 
sands of the Sacramento attracteil jjopula- 
tioii. Lawyers, clergymen, physicians, 
hotel-keepers, merchants, mechanics, 
clerks, traders, farmers, left their occupa- 
tions, and hurried with basket and spade 
to the land that glittered. Ilomes and 
houses were closed ; the grass threatened 
to grow over whole streets; deserted ships 
swung on their anchors in silent harbors. 
Tlie garrison of Monterey abandoned arms 
and took up the pickaxe and the shovel. 
Trains of wagons constantly streamed 
from the coast to the interior. Stores and 
sheds were built along the river bank, 
and crammed with provisions to be sold at 
more than famine prices; whole towns of 
tents and bushy bowers sprang up as if 
by magic ; every dawn rose upon a niotlej' 
toiling multitude, swarming in every nook 
and corner of the modern El Dorado, and 
everj' night was illuminated by the flames 
of a thousand bivouacs. 

Half-naked Indians, sharp-visaged Yan- 
kees in straw hats and loose frocks, groups 
of swarthy Spanish-Americans, old I)on.s 
in the gaudy costume of a dead fashion, 
gigantic trappers with their rude prairie 
garb, and gentlemen traders from all tlie 
States of the Union, with crowds of 
Californian women, jostled in tumultuous 
confusion through the gold district. 
Every method, from the roughest to the 
most ingenious, was devised for the rapid 
accumulation of gold ; and the strange 
spectacle was presented of a vast popula- 
tion, witliout law, without authority, with- 
out restraint, toiling together in amicable 
companionship. But the duration of this 
condition of things was lirief. Outrages 
were perpetrated, robbery commenced, 
blood was shed, and anarchy in its most 
hideous form ajipeared. But the United 
States government soon laid the founda- 
tions of order, and prepared a sj'stem of 
regular legislation for California. A 
severe code was established ; thieving in- 
curred the heavy penalty of a brand on 
the cheek, with mutilation of the ears ; 



other crimes were punished with similar 
rigor. 

Within a period of five months, the 
jiopulation of the territory h;ul run up to 
one hundred thousand, having just quad- 
rupled during that time. Of these, some 
forty-five thousand arrived in the nine 
thousand wagons that traversed the over- 
land route, and four thousand on mule- 
back, while the remainder came via 
Panama, and ro\ind Cape Horn. One- 
third of this multitude was composed of 
farmers, another of tradesmen and me- 
chanics, and the rest of merchants, pro 
fessional men, adventurers, and gamblers. 
The vast emigrant armies acted as pioneers 
on their various routes, hewing down 
trees, filling u]) chasms, leveling the 
grounds, and bridging torrents. But the 
sufferings endured in these colossal cara- 
vans were severe and terrible. jNIany 
perished on the route ; many became in- 
sane, or wasted away, through lack of food 
and water. The scourge of cholera also 
overtook the early emigrants, l)efore they 
were fairly embarked on the wilderness; 
the frequent rains of the early spring, 
added to the hardships and exposure of 
their travel, prepared the way for its 
ravages, and the first four hundred miles 
of the trail were marked by graves, to 
the number of about four thou.sand. 
Many also suffered immensely for want 
of food. Bayard Taylor, in his narrative 
of what befell these pioneer emigrants, says 
that not only were they compelled to kill 
their horses and mules to keep themselves 
from starvation, but it was not unusual for 
a mess by way of variety to the tough mule 
steaks, to kill a quantity of rattlesnakes, 
with which the mountains abounded, and 
have a dish of them fried for supper. 

And still the tide of emigration rolled 
onward, as the richness of the gold 
product, over so vast a region of territory, 
became a confirmed fact. Notwithstand- 
ing the oft-told story of deprivation, 
famine and death, parties and companies 
daily went forth to El Dorado, the golden 
land. Some took the perilous inland route 
across the Rockv mountains ; some went 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



507 



round Cape Horn ; and multitudes took 
the Panama route. The tens of thousands 
who thus went, having no other object 
than to get gold, had neither means nor 
inclination to grow their own food nor to 
manufacture their own necessaries ; and 
hence arose a field of enterprise which the 
commercial world did not neglect. Valu- 
able cargoes were dispatched to San Fran- 
cisco to be there sold in exchange for 
gold dust, and that place in time became a 
populous, busy, thriving city, distinguished 
also for reckless speculation, fabulous 
prices for real estate, excesses of all kinds, 
and disastrous conflagrations. During 
one week in 1850, gold dust to the value 
of three million dollars was shipped and 
exported from San Francisco. In August 
of the same year the monthly shipment 
had reached about eight million dollars. 
On September 15, 1850, there were in that 
port six hundred and eighty-four vessels, 
belonging to twenty-one different nations ; 
some of these vessels, small in size, had 
crossed the whole breadth of the Pacific 
from Australia and New Zealand, to ex- 
change their produce for gold dust. In 
the first two weeks of October, in the 
same year, ninety-four vessels arrived at 
San Francisco, not including the regular 
steamers. 

But the most strange and wonderful 
spectacle of all, was that exhibited by 
the money-diggers at their avocation. 
Men with long-handled shovels delved 
among clumps of bushes, or by the side of 
large rocks, never raising their eyes for an 
instant; others, with pick and shovel. 



worked among stone and gravel, or with 
trowels searched under banks and roots 
of trees, where, if rewarded with small 
lumps of gold, their eyes suddenly kindled 
with pleasure, and the search was more 
intently pursued. In the water, knee, or 
even waist deeji, regardless of the shiver- 
ing cold, others were washing the soil 
in the tin jsans or the common cradle rocker, 
whilst the sun poured a hot flood upon their 
heads. The common rocking machine 
for separating the gold was at first in great 
demand, but this was soon superseded by a 
cradle of ingenious construction ; then 
came crushing mills, of various kinds, for 
pounding the auriferous quartz ; and in 
time, machinery of the most effective 
adaptability was universally introduced. 
This operated powerfully to regulate min- 
ing operations, and to give order and 
stability to affairs generally throughout 
the territory. Society assumed the most 
advanced organization, churches every- 
where dotted the land, education was 
fostered, and the political institutions of 
the country jjatterned after those of the 
older states. Agricultural, industrial, 
and commercial pursuits were entered upon 
largely and with great success ; California 
was admitted as a state into the Union in 
1860 ; and in only ten years from Mar- 
shall's curious and accidental discovery of 
gold at Sutter's mill, in 1848, the gold 
product of California had reached a total 
of six hundred million dollars, and the 
population had increased from between 
twenty and thirty thousand souls to six 
hundred thousand ! 



LIX. 
ASTOR PLACE OPERA-HOUSE RIOTS, NEW YORK.— 1849. 



Terrible Culmination of the Feud Between Macready, the English Star Actor, and Forrest, the Great 
American Tragedian. — Macready Commences to Perform, but is Violently Driven from the Stage. — 
A Mob of Twenty Thousand Men Surrounds the Theater, and Thunders at its Doors. — Attempt to 
Fire and Destroy the House — Charge of the Military. — Ijimentable Ix)ssof Life. — F;inie of these Great 
Actors. — Their Former Mutual Friendship. — Macreaily's Tour in this Country. — Forrest Performs 
in Kurope. — Professional .Jealousies Aroused. — 0()en Rupture at Last. — Macready Again in America. 
— Engages to Play in New York — Opposition to Him There. — Appears on the Stage, May 8th. — Fierce 
Tumult in the House. — Groans, Hisses, Insults. — He Stands Undismayed. — Flight of the Audience. 
— Reappearance, May 10th. — The House Filled to the Dome. — Kiotous Veils and Cries. — " Down 
with the British Hog ! " — Heroic Demeanor on the Stage. — Threats of the Uaging Mob. — Its Bloody 
Dispersion. — Macready Leaves the Country. 



" Tt onon full! in course of common life. 
Tlul rifiht loni; time i« ovvrbornv of wronf;; 
But justice, tho' her doom Bhe doth prolong. 
Yet, at the tut, ahc will her own cause right.'* 




lOFESSIONAL rivalry, based principally upon circumstances arising from 
different nationality, had gradually produced feelings of 
deep personal antagonism between Mr. Edwin Forrest, con- 
fessedly the greatest of American tragedians, and Mr. W. 
C. Macready, the most brilliant and powerful actor ujion 
the English stage; and this alienation was shared in a still 
greater degree of intensity by the numerous friends and 
partisans of the respective individuals, finally culminating 
in a tragedy of blood and death that shook New York to its 
center and engrossed the attention of America and Euroi)e 
alike. 

Mr. Forrest and his friends complained chiefly of Mr. 
!Macreaily"s conduct in his own country, in relation to Mr. 
Forrest, during the visit of tlie latter to England, in 1844, 
— his inhos])itality, his crushing influence, his vindictive 
opposition, and his steadfast determination to ruin the pros- 
pects of Mr. Forrest in Europe. Mr. ^Macready had previ- 
poRBEST, AS spARTActjs. ously been in America, and, accompanied b^' Miss Cushman, 

played ongagenu-nt.'i in all the large cities, realizing therefrom fame and fortune. But 
instead of returning this kindness, he acted openly towards Mr. Forrest as his deter- 
mined foe. In Paris, the two tragedians met. Mr. Forrest was anxious to appear on 
the French boards, but Macready threw obstacles in the way ; this was the first time 



3fe^ 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



509 



tliat the parties were enemies, — tliey had 
in by-gone years been friends. Forrest's 
subsequent success in London aroused 
Macready's bitter hostility, and he deter- 
mined to put him down. It was said at 
the time that he or his friends actually 
hired men to visit the theater and hiss 
Forrest off the stage, and Forrest was con- 
sequently received with a shower of hisses 
before he was heai'd. This conduct was 
followed up by the press, by which both 
Forrest and his country were assailed. 
Forrest and Macready next met in Edin- 
burgh, and from this city were sent forth 
bitter charges against Forrest, the chief of 
which was, that he had hissed Macready 
for dancing and throwing up his handker- 
chief across the stage, in one of the parts 
which he was then enacting. 

Criminations and recriminations were 
thus indulged in, without measure, each 
party claiming to be the one aggrieved, 
and the quarrel enlisted the warm and 
active interest of the public, on both sides 
of the Atlantic. In 1848, Mr. Macready 
again made a j)i"ofPssioual visit to the 
United States, and, after performing in 
various parts of the country, commenced a 
farewell engagement at the Astor Place 
Opera-House, New York, in May, 1849, 
in the character of Macbeth, under the 
auspices of Messrs. Hackett and Niblo. 

Here the anti-Macready party deter- 
mined to silence him bj' mob violence. 
The seventh of May was the time appointed 
for him to commence this engagement, — 
with what result, the accounts given by 
the press of that city will show, as follows : 
As soon as the doors were opened, a very 
large number of persons, of the male sex, 
entered the theater, and took their seats in 
different parts of the house. They were 
followed by many others, among whom 
were probably fifty or sixty ladies. Long 
before the curtain rose, the house was well 
filled, the gallery and parquette being quite 
crowded. 

It now began to be whispered about, 
that the reception of Mr. Macready' would 
not be favorable on the part of a portion 
of the auditory ; and the appearance of 



Mr. Matsell, the chief-of-police, and a very 
strong body of the force under his orders, 
seemed to strengthen the rumors which 
were jjrevalent. The house was, however, 
perfectly quiet until the curtain rose upon 
the first scene, when the appearance of 
Mr. Clarke, who personated the character 
of Malcolm, elicited three loud and en- 
thusiastic cheers from the parquette and 
gallery. From this moment, the cheer- 
ing, hissing, whistling, and other ex- 
pressions of feeling began, and not a 
s^'llable was heard during the remain- 
der of the scene, and the succeeding, till 
the entrance of Macbeth, passing in dumb 
show. When Macbeth and Banquo en- 
tered in the third scene, the uproar was 
deafening. A perfect torrent of groans 
and hisses assailed Mr. Macready, and a 
deluge of assafcetida was discharged upon 
him from the gallery, filling the whole 
house with its pungent and offensive odor. 
A rotten egg was projected against him, 
but missing the face of the eminent trage- 
dian, bespattered the stage at his feet. 
The friends of Mr. Macready, who ap- 
peared rather to outnumber those opposed 
to him, now manifested their feelings by 
cries of "shame!" "shame!" cheers, and 
waving of handkerchiefs, provoking a re- 
sponse in the form of renewed groans, 
hisses, and half a dozen rotten potatoes, 
on the part of the others. " Th ree cheers 
for Edwin Forrest ! " were called for by 
some one in the pit, and were given with 
great enthusiasm by those unfriendly to 
]Mr. Macready. Then came the cry of 
" Three cheers for Macreachj ! " which was 
responded to with equal enthusiasm bv the 
opposite side of the house. 

The scene which followed beggars de- 
scription. Hisse.s, groans, cheers, yells, 
screams, all sorts of noises, in the midst of 
which Mr. Macready still maintained his 
position in the center of the stage. 
" Off/ " " off/ " shouted one party. " Go 
on!" "^0 071.'" screamed the other. Mr. 
Macready approached the lights. He was 
greeted by roars of ironical laughter, and 
reiterated hisses and groans. A banner 
was at this moment exhibited in front of 



510 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the amphitheater, bearing on its side, " No 
apologies — it is too late!" and on the 
other, "You have ever proved yourself 
a liar ! " The appearance of this banner 
was tlie signal for a perfect tornado of 
u]iroarious applause, lauglitcr, dicers, and 
groans, in the midst of which an old shoe 
and a cent piece were hurled at Mr. 
Macready, who ])icked up the copper coin, 
and, with a kingly air. put it in his bosom, 
bowing, at the same time, with mock 
humility, to the quarter of the gallery 
from which the visitation had descended. 





Lady Macbeth, who was represented on 
this occasion by Mrs. Coleman Pope — a 
very beautiful and (jueeiily-looking woman 
— fared little better than her lord. Not a 
syllable of her part was audible. With 
great calmness, and without the least 
wavering, however, this lady made a show 
of going through her part. All on the 
stage fared alike. It was evident that 
there was a fixed and settled determina- 
tion on the part of that portion of the 
auditory which occupied nearly one-third 
of the parquette, and the greater portion 
of the gallery, between whom a communi- 
cation was kept up throughout the even- 
ing, by means of signals and exclamations, 



not to permit the performance to proceed. 
Several of Mr. Macready's friends now 
became much excited, and shouted to him 
to "go on," and '• not to give up the ship," 
which elicited tremendous groans, hisses, 
and cries of " Thrm grnitns for the codfish 
nristocraci/," which were responded to with 
marked enthusiasm. Cries of " Down with 
the English hog!"—" Take off the Devon- 
shire hull!" — "Remember how Edwin 
Forrest was used in London ! " — and sim- 
ilar exclamations, were loud and frequent. 
Thus passed the whole of the first and 
second acts, the uproar not ceas- 
ing for a moment. 

When the curtain fell, in the 
second act, the tumult was fiercer 
than ever, and it was quite aj> 
parent that something still more 
serious was approaching. Yet 
the greater portion of the audi- 
tory opposed to Mr. Macready 
seemed in excellent humor. 
They chanted snatches of the 
witches' choruses, and amused 
themselves by asking repeated- 
ly, " Where's Macread;/ ? " — 
" Where's Elir.it Jh-own ? "—:\nd 
other interrogations of that char- 
acter. One gentleman in the 
anjuette, amongst those who 
were hostile to Mr. Macready, 
ogled the liouse through a stu- 
pendous eye-glass, large enough 
for a horse collar ; and others 
themselves into a variety of atti- 
more peculiar than becoming. 
" Three cheers for Macready, digger 
Douglass arid Pete Williams," were now 
called for, and given with vehemence. 

At length the curtain rose on the third 
act ; and, in dumb show, Banquo, advanc- 
ing to the lights, commenced, but not 
a syllable was audible. Then Macbeth 
reappeared, and the uproar was greater 
than ever. Smash came a chair from the 
gallery, nearly grazing the head of a 
member of the orchestra, and strewing 
the stage with its fragments, within a few- 
feet of Mr. Macready. He bowed and 
smiled. Another chair fi'll at his feet, 



threw 
tudes 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



511 



with a crash wliich resounded all over the 
house. Some of the ladies started from 
their seats, and grew quite pale. The 
shouts, and groans, and hisses, were 
redoubled. Mr. Macready stood quite 
unmoved — not the slightest tremor visible 
— not the least bravado, either, in his 
manner. Another chair was hurled on the 
stage, and the curtain suddenly fell. The 
ladies hurried from the boxes — all but a 
few, who betrayed not the slightest alarm. 
Still the uproar continued, and there was 
loud talking in the lobbies. A great 
crowd outside thundered at the doors, and 
threatened to break into the theater. Mr. 
Matsell and a strong party of his policemen 
barricaded the entrances. The ladies were 
hurried . out by one of the doors that open 
in Eighth street, and in a few minutes 
afterwards, Mr. Macreadj', in a close car- 
riage, was driven rapidly and safely away. 
No person on the stage was injured by any 
of the missiles thrown during the evening, 
but almost all of the actors received a co])i- 
ous allowance of the fetid liquid which 
was discharged from the gallery. Some 
of the ladies expressed their feelings in 
favor of Mr. Macready by waving their 




handkerchiefs ; and many of the male 
audience who were most enthusiastic in 
favor of Mr. Macready, were Americans. 

During the pantomime upon the stage, 
the American actors playing with Macready 
were frequently warned by the people in 



the gallery to " go off the stage," or expect 
similar treatment hereafter. In conse- 
quence of these warnings, after the play 
was suspended, Mr. C. AV. Clarke appeared 
in front of the curtain, as an apologist ; 
he remarked that his family was depend- 
ent on his exertions for a maintenance, 
and he pleaded this fact in justification of 
himself for having consented to play with 
Mr. Macready. Mr. Clarke's explanation 
was cordially received ; and when it was 
found that the performance had been 
effectually interrupted, and that Mr. 
Macready had abandoned the effort to 
proceed with the plaN', the vast and excited 
crowd, within and without, began to dis- 
perse, and, about twenty minutes past ten 
o'clock, the whole scene was perfectly 
quiet. 

But the end was not yet. Another cur- 
tain was to rise, and a tragedy — not in 
pantomime, but in dread reality' — was to 
be enacted to the bloody end. Regretting 
the abandonment of his engagement hj 
Mr. Macready, and especially deprecating 
the violence which led to that determina- 
tion on his part, a large number of the 
leading gentlemen of New York, headed 
by Washington Irving, addressed a note 
to Mr. Macreadj', urging the fulfillment of 
his original plan, and assuring him that the 
good sense and respect for order charactei'- 
izing the community would sustain him. 
This request was acceded to, and the 
evening of May tenth appointed for the 
performance. Unfortunately, the publica- 
tion of this correspondence was regarded 
as an open challenge to the other party ; 
placards were circulated that the crew of 
the Cunard (English) steamer America 
were resolved to sustain their countrymen 
with arms ; and the calling out of the mil- 
itary by the mayor on Thursday afternoon, 
as a measure of precaution for the evening, 
added fuel to the flame. It became evi- 
dent throughout the day that there would 
be a serious collision between the rioters 
and the military, in the event of the 
former attempting to execute their threats 
against Mr. Macready. 

As early as half-past six o'clock, persons 



512 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



began to assemble around tlie theater ; 
and, at about seven, crowds were seen 
wending tlieir way to the theater from all 
parts of the city. By half-past seven, 
there was a multitude in the streets, in 
front of the ojiera-house, and the rush to 
get admittance wa.s tremendous. Tickets 
for a sufficient number to fill the house 
were soon sold, and the announcement 
made on a j)laeard that no mure would be 
sold. Meantime, the crowd outside was 
tremendous, and increasing every minute. 
Every avenue to the theater soon became 
deiLsely crowded. Astor Place was occu- 
pied by an immense assemblage, almost all 
of whom had apparently been attracted 
b_v curiosity. The portion of the Bowery 
adjoining the theater was also crowded, 
and, in Broadway, whicli had at that point 
been ojiened for the purpose of construct- 
ing a sewer, hundreds of jjcrsons were seen 
crowded together on the top of the mound 
of earth tlirown up from the center of the 
street. 

The house itself was filled to the dome. 
A great portion of the assemblage in the 
theater consisted of policemen, who had 
been distributed all over the house in de- 
tached parties. There was not any appear- 
ance of an organized party of rioters in 
the house. When the curtain rose, there 
was an outburst of hisses, groans, cheers, 
and miscellaneous sounds. The opening 
scenes, however, were got througli with 
after a fashion, several persons who hissed 
and hootiil liaving been seized by the 
police, and immediately conveyed to an 
apartment underneath the boxes, where 
they were placed in confinement. Mac- 
ready's api)earance was tlie signal for a 
great cxjilusion of feeling. Hisses, groans, 
shouts of derision, assailed him, intermin- 
gled with loud cries of " Out wifh him !" 
" Out with him! " Large numbers of the 
auditory started to their feet, and called 
on the polit^e to eject the individuals who 
had expressed their disapprobation, and 
several arrests were made in the manner 
already described, each arrest being fol- 
lowed by loud cheers and applause all over 
the house. 



Thus the play proceeded through the 
first two acts. There had been a great 
deal of trepidation behind the scenes, but 
the heroism with which the actors and 
actresses sustained themselves on tlie 
stage, elicited much ])raise. The manner 
of Mrs. l'oj)e, the Lady Macbeth of this 
melancholy night, was especially com- 
mended. It was, indeed, a trying scene. 
i\[r. Macready repeatedly expressed to 
Mr. Hackett, his wish to desist, and his 
desire to avoid any further collision with 
those who were opposed to his appearance ; 
but, amid the shouts, groans, hisses, and 
arrests by the police, the play went on, 
much of it in dumb show, but portions of 
it without materi.al interruption. It was 
supposed, at this moment, that the tumult 
would be effectually quelled, for the dis- 
turbance in the house became less and 
less, and even some passages of Mr. 
Macready's part were heard with a tolera- 
ble degree of order. 

The first persons arrested in the par- 
quette were four young men, who were 
locked up in the temporary prison under 
the boxes. In this apartment was a gas- 
light burning, and the prisoners, pulling 
up some shavings and pieces of wood, set 
fire to them. When the policemen opened 
the door, the j)laee was full of smoke, but 
the officers sjjeedily extinguished tlie fire. 
The prisoners who had attempted this 
atrocious crime were inunediately put in 
irons. At this moment a shower of stones 
assailed tlie windows of the theater; and 
news soon came in from the street, that a 
man named Judson was heading the mob 
outside, and calling upon them to stone 
the building. The cliief-of-i)olicc at once 
ordered his arrest, which was promptly 
effected. In the meantime, the assault 
upon the doors and windows was continued, 
volley after volley of large paving stones 
being discharged against them. The 
glass was, of course, in a few moments, 
broken to atoms ; but, having been barri- 
caded, the windows resisted the attack for 
some minutes. Yielding at last, however, 
— the fragments of glass, and blinds, and 
barricades, being driven with violence into 



3 



GEE AT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



513 



the body of tlie house, — great alarm began 
to pervade the audience. Rumors of all 
kinds — that the liouse was to be fired, — 
that it was to be blown up, — and so on, 
were circulated. The ladies, seven in 
number, who were present, and who, with 
a heroism creditable to their sex, had till 
this moment preserved their equanimity, 
now became alarmed, and shifted their 
seats to the least exposed positions. 

And now, the scene being en.acted was 
most exciting. In front and rear, the fierce 
assaults of the mob, as they thundered at 
the doors, resounded all over the theater, 
whilst the shouts and yells of the assail- 



utes afterwards, two troops of cavahy, of 
the first division of the state militia, and 
a battalion of the national guards, were 
seen approaching the place of the riot. 

A troop of horse now turned from 
Broadway into Astor Place, and rode 
through the crowd to the Bowerj', receiv- 
ing showers of stones and other missiles, 
on their way. The horses became unman- 
ageable, and the troop did not again make 
its appearance on the ground. In a few 
minutes afterwards, the national guard, 
one of the independent volunteer compa- 
nies of the city, made their appearance on 
the ground, and attempted to force a pas- 




ASTOR PLACE Of EKA-HOUSE KlUlS. 



ants were terrific. Inside, however, all 
was comparatively quiet. The police 
arrested summarily the leading rioters in 
the house, and, making sorties among the 
crowd outside, secured many of the ring- 
leaders of the mob. 

As the mob increased in magnitude 
and in the ferocity with which they assailed 
the building, the cry arose, " Where are 
the military?" " Can notJihig he done to 
disperse the rioters?" "Where's the 
mayor?" Several dispatches were sent 
to the City hall, where the military were 
stationed. At length, about nine o'clock, 
the sound of a troop of cavalry coming up 

Broadway was heard ; and in a few niin- 
33 



sage through the crowd to the theater. 
The mob hissed and hooted at them, and 
finally attacked them with stones, which 
were at hand in consequence of the build- 
ing of the sewer in the vicinity. The com- 
pany were at this period thrown into dis- 
order b}' the attack made upon them, and 
retired to Broadway, where they rallied, 
and made another attempt to reach the 
theater. They were hissed and pelted as 
before, with stones, but they succeeded in 
gaining the desired point. They then 
endeavored to form in line on the sidewalk, 
and while doing so, five or six of them, 
including the captain of the company, were 
felled to the ground by paving stones, and 



51-1 



OUK FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



taken insensible into the theater. The 
next officer in connnanJ tlien said to the 
slieriff, who was on the ground, that if 
orders did not come to fire, he and his 
men would ahandon the streets. Accord- 
ingly, the officer directed the company to 
lire around over the heads of the people, 
which was done, but without effect. The 
multitude continued to pelt them with 
paving stones, as before. An order was 
then given to the company to fire at the 
crowd, and it was done, two men falling, 
one shot in the arm, and the other through 
the right cheek. The first was sent to the 
hospital, but the other was fotind to be 
dead. After the volley, the mob re- 
treated a short distance, but rallied and 
renewed the attack with greater vigor than 
before. Paving stones and other missiles 
were discharged at them in great quanti- 
ties ; and while the mob was going on, 
another volley was fired by the military, 
killing and wounding several more. 

After this volley, the crowd retreated 
again, and the uiilitar}' and the police took 
advantage of it to form a line across the 
street at both ends of Astor I'lace, so as to 
prevent any connection between Broadway 
and the Bowery. General Sandford then 
issued an order for more troops and two 
brass pieces loaded with grape to be 
brought to the scene immediately, as it 
was rumored that the crowd intended to 
arm themselves and renew the attack. 
Before the volleys were discharged. Gen- 
eral Sandforil several times called out to 
the crowd, that they must hold back, or 
the troops would fire ; and, on the sheriff 
at last giving the order. General Hall 
exclaimed, " Fire oi'cr their henils." The 
order to fire was repeated by General 
Sandford and Colonel Durj-ea, and the 
men fired over the heads of the mob, 
against the walls of a house. A shout was 
then made by the mob, " Tlieij linvn oii/i/ 
blank cnrtfidges — rjicc if totlicm af/oinf" 
and another volley of stones followed 
instantly. The troops were then ordered 



by General Sandford and Colonel Durvea, 
to fire again. General Hall saying, "/V;r 
loir," and then, for the first time, the mob 
began to give way. The troops thereupon 
moved forward and crossed the street, 
driving the crowd before them, until the 
troops got near to the corner of Lafayette 
Place. The mob rallied at the corner of 
Lafayette Place on one side, anil at the 
corner of the theater and broken ground 
at the opposite side, and advanced again 
with fresh showers of stones on the troops. 
•Several of the military were hurt severely 
by this second attack, and orders were 
given to the troops to fire, one-half 
obliquely to the right, and one-half oli- 
liqucly to the left, on those two bodies. 
This was done, and the crowd fell back to 
Lafayette Pl.ace, and beyond the broken 
ground behind the theater. There was no 
firing after this b3' the troops, but the 
mob kejjt up constant attacks. 

The number of lives lost in this terrible 
occurrence was twent3--two, and a large 
number were wounded. The whole number 
of military engaged in the conflict was 
about two hundred and ten, one-half in the 
line of Broadway, and the other in tlie 
line towards the Bowery. The mob was 
estimated by some as high as twenty thou- 
sand ; but, on account of the street lights 
having been put out, it was exceedingly 
dark, and nothing could be seen but a 
dense mass of people, swaying and surg- 
ing like a troubled sea, while hoarse 
shouts and wild cheers and curses rent 
the air. 

The element of personal animosity 
between these two distinguished histrionic 
characters, had, beyond all question, ol>- 
tained deej] root, and, in addition to this, 
appeal was made by their friends, respec- 
tively, to the ]>rcju(lices of nationality, and 
thus the reception accorded i\Ir. Macrcady 
differed widely from that which greeted 
him on his previous visit to America. Mr. 
Macready, soon after this tragedy, left for 
England. 



LX. 

AWFUL VISITATIONS OF THE "ANGEL OF DEATH."— 1849. 



Yellow Fever and Cholera Epidemics at Different Periods, — Friglitful Mortality and Panic in 1849. — 
Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted. — Proclamation hy the 
President of the United States. — Tlie Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Human Nature Strikingly Illus- 
trated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Once from tlie Face of tlie Eartli. — Various Eras of American 
Epidemics.— Wide and Ghastly IJavages. — Self-Preservation the First Law. — Social Intercourse Sus- 
pended. — Ties of affection Sundered — Parents Forsake Children. — Husbands Flee from Wives — Rich 
Men Buried like Paupers — Money and Rank Unavailing. — Rumble of the Dead-Carts. — Activity in the 
Grave-yards — They Look as if Plowed Up. — Women in Childbirth Helpless. — Their Screams for 
Succor. — Care of a Lunatic Patient. — Tlie Tender Passion Still Alive. — Courageous Marriages. 
— Death in the Bridal Chamber. — Anecdotes of the Clergy. — Crime, Filth, and Disease. — Quacks and 
Nostrums Kife. — The Celebrated " Thieves' Vinegar." 



'* Bring out your dead 1" -CRT OF the Dead-Caet DbiteeS. 




STRPCK WITH THE CHOLERA. 



UAKER order, cleanliness, and temperance, so characteristic of the 
" city of brotherly love," did not save Philadelphia from being vis- 
ited, at an early period after the founding of the republic, by one of 
the most direful scourges that ever was known in the western world. 
Tliis was the yellow fever, or " plague," in 1793, an epidemic which, 
from its remarkable nature and development, is entitled to 
the first mention in an article like this, and reminiscences of 
which — deeply interesting and indeed in some instances 
almost tragical — will be found in the highest degree 
WM!( readable, at the present day. 

Following this, was the malignant spotted 

fever, in which the patient had large red spots 
here and there ; it broke out in Massachusetts, 
in 1806 and continued until 1815, in the various 
northern states. In 1812, the United States 
army in New York and Vermont suffered se- 
verely from it. In the latter state, it was the 
most alarming disease ever known. It usually 
attacked persons of the most hardy and robust 
constitution, and often proved fatal in a few 
hours ; not uncommonly, the patient was a 
corpse before a physician could be brought to his 
assistance. 

In 1822, the yellow fever appeared again in 
New York, with great virulence, after an inter- 



G16 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



mission of some seventeen years, anil 
though the mortality was much less exten- 
sive than previously, the panic was even 
shaqier, — tlie city south of the park I'ciiijj 
fenced off and nearly deserted, families, 
merchants, banks, and even tlie city gov- 
ernment removing to a distance. Hut in 
1833-5, tlie disease was far more virulent. 

In 1832, the Asiatic cholera, or cholera 
asphyxia, made its appearance in the 
United States for the first time, coming 
l>y way of Canada. Following tlie course 
of the large rivers, it soon reached Buffalo, 
and then spread irregularly, occurring in 
towns and cities at distances from each 
other, without affecting intervening dis- 
tricts till a subsequent period. In the 
city of Xcw York, it ajipeared June 27th, 
and continued two montlis, during whicli 
period there were three thousand four hun- 
dred deaths. In Albany, it showed itself 
at tlie same time as in New York ; and 
while its fur\- was abating in the latter 
jihice, it began to ajijicar in its most for- 
midable shape in Fliiladcipliia, and in a 
few weeks a thousand fell victims. About 
the same mortality occurred in Baltimore 
and AVashington, wliich cities the con- 
tagion soon readied. It commenced in 
Cincinnati in July, became eiudemic in 
September, and continued through most 
of the summer of 1833. In the southern 
states, it made great havoc amongst the 
slave population, who fell ready and easy 
subjects of its power. Fatal, beyond all 
precedent, was tlie malady, in New Orleans 
and St. Louis. The middle states never 
before knew so terrible a visitation. 

From tlie north, the disease also ex- 
tended itself along the borders of the 
great lakes, and soon its ravages began at 
Detroit. The six eastern states escaped 
with only a few cases, principally in the 
port towns of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, 
and Connecticut. 

An<l now again, this awful scourge re- 
appeared, in 184!), to blast the land with 
death on every side, carrying terror to 
every home and lieart, and sweeping tens 
of thou.sands into the grave. In New 
Orleans, it broke out about the middle of 



December, 1848, and continued through 
the winter. So frightful were its devasta- 
tions, that it is estimated to have deci- 
mated the inhabitants that remained in 
some wards of the city. The raging jiesti- 
lence appeared in New York in May, and, 
so violent was its spread, tliat during the 
week ending July 21st, more than seven 
hundred deaths occurred ; the mortality 
that week was the greatest that had ever 
taken place in anj' city in tlie United 
States, the deaths by all diseases number- 
ing more than fourteen hundred. In 
Boston, tlie deaths from cholera, during 
June, July, August, and September, were 
rising six liundred. But it was far more 
terrible in Cincinnati and St. Louis, the 
vi<tims in each of these cities being up- 
wards of six thousand. Over all the mid- 
dle and western states, this Angel of Death 
spread his destroying wings, and in many 
jiarts of New England. The third da\- of 
August, 1849, was, in view of the terrible 
.scourge thus stalking mightily over the 
broad land, ap[>uinted by the president of 
the United States as a day of fasting and 
prayer, that God would " avert tlie jiesti- 
lence that walketh in darkness and the 
destruction that wastetli at noonday'." 

Again, in 1853, terror and panic seized 
the land, from another visitation of the 
yellow fever or jilague. It spent its chief 
force upon that oft-doomed city. New Or- 
leans, wliere, in the short sp.ice of three 
montlis, ten per cent, of the whole popu- 
lation fell victims. 

Concerning the origin, or producing 
causes, of these ejiidemics, authorities 
have differed so widely, that little of a 
conclusive character, on these points, can 
be presented ; and the same may be said 
respecting the modes of treatment. Much, 
however, that is interesting as well as 
profitable, relative to these awful visita- 
tions, may be learned from the various 
phenomena and incidents that accompa- 
nied them. 

In no other place, perhaps, were the 
manifestations and effects of a deathly 
epidemic upon human conduct exhiiiited 
more strikingly than in the city of Bhila- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



517 



delphia. The dread of the contagion drove 
parents from their children, and even 
wives from their husbands. All the ties 
of affection and consanguinitj' were rent 
asunder, and humanity was left to mourn 
over its own selfishness, in the ardor of 
self-preservation. 

Such was the degree of consternation, 
dismay and affright, which possessed 
people's minds, that, according to Mr. 



were afraid to allow the barbers or hair- 
dressers to come near them, as instances 
had occurred of some of them having 
shaved the dead, and many having en- 
gaged as bleeders. Some, who carried 
their caution pretty far, bought lancets 
for themselves, not daring to allow them- 
selves to be bled with the lancets of the 
bleeders. Many houses were scarcely a 
moment free from the smell of gunpowder, 




MONOMEXT TO THE VICTIMS OF CHOLEKA. 



Carey, the historian of that period, most 
of the inhabitants who could, by any 
means, make it convenient, fled from the 
city. Of those who remained, many shut 
themselves up in their houses, being afraid 
to walk the streets. The smoke of tobacco 
being regarded as a preventive, many 
persons, even women and small boys, had 
segars almost constantly in their mouths. 
Others, placing full confidence in garlic, 
chewed it almost the whole day; some 
kept it in their pockets and shoes. Many 



burned tobacco, sprinkled vinegar, etc. 
Churches, libraries, and other places of 
public resort, were closed. Those persons 
who ventured abroad had handkerchiefs, 
or sponges, impregnated with vinegar or 
camphor, at their noses ; some had smell- 
ing bottles full of thieves' vinegar. Others 
carried pieces of tarred rope in their hands 
and pockets, also camphor bags tied around 
their necks. The corpses of the most re- 
spectable citizens, even of those who had 
not died of the epidemic, were carried to 



518 



OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



tlie grave on the shafts of a cliair, the horse 
driven by a negro, unattended by a friend 
or relation, and witliout any sort of cere- 
mony. People uniformly' and hastily shift- 
ed their course at the sight of a hearse 
coming towards tlioni. JIany never walked 
on the foot-path, but went iu tiie middle 
of the streets, to avoid being infected in 
])a.ssing liouses wherein peojde liad died. 
Acquaintances and friends avoided each 
other in the streets, and only signified 
their regard by a cold nod. The old 
custom of shaking hands fell into such 
general disuse, that many recoiled with 
affright at even the offer of a hand. A 
person wearing crape, or having an^' other 
api)earance of mourning, was shunned like 
a viper ; and many congratulated them- 
selves highly' on the skill and address with 
which they got to windward of every 
person whom they met. When, too, the 
citizens, summoning sufficient resolution, 
walked abroad to take the air, the sight of 
the sick-cart conveying patients to the 
hospital, or the hearse carrying the dead 
to the grave, — which were traveling al- 
most the whole day, — soon damped their 
spirits, and caused them to retrace their 
steps and seek seclusion. These manifest- 
ations and characteristics prevailed alike 
during the yellow fever and the cholera. 
Consternation was carried beyond all 
bounds. Men of affluent fortunes were 
abandoned to the care of any stranger, 
black or white, who could by entreaty be 
procured. In some cases, no money or 
influence could procure proper attendance. 
With the poor, the case was, of course, 
immeasurably worse than with the rich. 
Many of tlioni perished, without a human 
being to hand them a drink of water, or 
to perform any medical or charitable office. 
Some of the horrible and heart-rending 
occurrenc'es, whicli transpired during these 
visitations of yellow fever and cholera, 
will suffice bettor than any discussions of 
symptoms and treatment, or any mere 
general representations of the public ter- 
ror and panic, to show the nature of the 
calamities that thus sv/ept over the land, 
carrying desolation and anguish to so 



many happy homes. Tlie following arc 
some of the instances referred to, as rela- 
ted by Carey, Simpson, and others. 

An old grave digger, named Sebastian, 
who had long lost the sense of smelling, 
fancied he could not take the disorder, and 
therefore followed Iiis business witliout 
apprehension. A husband and liis wife, 
who lay sick together, wished to be in- 
terred in the same grave. Their deaths 
happened within a few days of each other. 
When the latter of the two was to be 
buried, Sebastian was employed to dig 
open the other's grave. He struck upon 
and broke the coffin, and in stooping down, 
inhaled such an intolerable and deadly 
stench, that he was taken sick immedi- 
ately, and in a day or two died. 

A man and his wife, once in affluent 
circumstances, were found lying dead in 
bed, and between them was their child, a 
little infant, who was sucking its mother's 
breast. How long they had lain tlius, was 
uncertain. 

Peculiar in its sadness, was the case of 
a woman, whose husband had just died of 
the disease; she was seized with the pains 
of parturition, and had nobody' to assist 
her, as the women in the neighborhood 
were afraid to go into the house. She laj', 
for a considerable time, in a condition of 
anguish truly indescribable ; at length, 
she struggled to reach the window, and 
cried out for assistance. Two men, pass- 
ing by, went up stairs ; but they came at 
too late a stage — for she was even then 
striving with death — and actually, in a 
few minutes, expired in their arms. 
Another woman, whose husband and two 
children lay dead in the room with her, 
was in the same situation as that of the 
woman just described, — without a nii<l- 
wife, or any other person to aid lier. Her 
cries at the window brought up one of the 
carters employed for the relief of the sick. 
With his assistance she was delivered of 
a child, which died in a few minutes, 
as did the mother, who was utterly ex- 
hausted by her labor, on account of the 
disorder, and by the dreadful spectacle 
before her. And thus lay, in one room, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



519 



no less than five dead bodies, an entire 
family, carried off within a few hours. 

Before arrangements could be made and 
carried out, by the public authorities, to 
mitigate the severities of the scourge, 
many fell victims, whose lives would oth- 
erwise, probably, have been saved. A 
servant girl, belonging to a family in 
which the malady had prevailed, becom- 
ing apprehensive of what might be her 
own fate, resolved to remove to a relation's 
house, some distance in the country. She 
was, however, taken sick on the road, and 
returned to town, where she could find no 
person willing to receive her. One of the 



inquired into the state of affairs. The 
other, to indulge the contemptible pro- 
pensity of hoaxing, told him, that a cotfin- 
maker, who had been emploj-ed by the 
committee for the relief of the sick, had 
found such a decrease of demand two 
weeks before, that he had a large supply of 
coffins on hand ; but that the mortality 
had again so far increased, that he had 
sold all, and had seven journeymen em- 
ployed day and night. Alarmed at this 
information, the merchant and his family 
instantly turned back. 

Several instances occurred, of the drivers 
of the hospital wagons, on their arrival to 




HORRORS OF THE GREAT EPIDEMIC. 



guardians of the poor provided a cart, and 
took her to the almshouse, into which she 
was refused admittance. She was brought 
back, but the guardian could not procure 
her a single night's lodging ; and at last, 
after every effort to procure some kind 
of shelter, the unfortunate creature abso- 
lutely expired in the cart. 

Of the various incidents partaking of 
the extravagant and farcical, much might 
be related A merchant of Philadelphia, 
who had been absent for several weeks, 
was returning to the city in the second 
week of November, having heard that tiie 
danger was no more. He met a man on 
the road going from the city, and naturally 



deliver up their charge, finding, to their 
amazement, the wagons empty. A lunatic, 
who had the riialignant disorder, was ad- 
vised, by his neighbors, to go to the fever 
hospital. He consented, and got into the 
cart; but soon changing his mind, he 
slipped out at the end, unknown to the 
carter, who, after a while, missing him, 
and seeing him at a distance running away, 
turned his horse about, and trotted hard 
after him. The other doubled his pace, 
and the carter whipped his horse to a gallop ; 
but the agile lunatic turned a corner, and 
adroitly hid himself in a house, leaving the 
mortified carter to return, and deliver an 
account of his ludicrous adventure. 



520 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



Tilt' wife of a ni;in wlio livt'd in Wiilnut 
street, Pliiladelpliia, was seized with the 
disease, and given over Iiy tlie doctors. 
The liusbund abandoned her, and next 
iiiglit lav out of the house for fear of catch- 
ing the infection. lu the morning, taking 
it fur granted, from the very low state she 
liad been in, that slie was dead, he pur- 
chased a coffin for her; bnt on entering 
the house, what was liis astonishment to 
find lier much recovered. He himself, 
liowever, fell sick shortly after, dii'd, and 
was buried in the very coffin which he had 
so precipitately bought for his wife. An- 
other example under this class, though 
with one or two important points of differ- 
ence, is the following: A woman, whoso 
husband died, refused to have him buried 
in a coffin provided for her by one of lier 
friends, as too l>altry and mean ; she there- 
fore bought an elegant and costly one, and 
had the other laid by in the yard. In a 
week she was herself a <-ori)se, a?id was 
buried in the very coflin she had rejected. 

The powers of the god of love might be 
imagined to lie dormant ann'dst such scenes 
of distress as were exhibited at the hos- 
pitals, during this period. But his sway 
was felt there with equal force as any- 
where else. Thus it was, that John John- 
son and Priscilla Hicks, two patients in 
the public hospital, who had recovered, 
and then officiated as nurses to the sick, 
were smitten with each other's charms, 
and, procuring leave of absence for an Imur 
or two, went to the city, were joined in the 
baiiils of miitrimony, and returned to their 
avocation at the lios[)ital. Another adven- 
ture of the same kind, was that of Nassy, 
a Portuguese mulatto, who took to wife 
Hannah Smith, a bouncing German girl, 
employed, like himself, as a nurse. An 
instance of similar attachment is related as 
liaving occurred in New Orleans, when 
the epidemic was at its height, and the 
whole city was sunk in grief and mourn- 
ing. A smiling happy couple a])peared 
one morning before a Catholic clergynian, 
and requested him to i)roilaim the bans of 
their marriage the next day. The rever- 
end gentleman was surprised that any 



persons should desire to get married at 
such a time of general misery and distress, 
and urged the couple that they should 
postpone it until the epidemic was over. 
But they declined doing so, and the priest, 
indignant at what he considered ill-timed 
levity, turned away, and positively refusi d 
to officiate in tlieir behalf, stating that he 
was too busy attending the sick and ad- 
ministering the last consolations to the 
dying. The impatient j>air next proceeded 
to the clergyman of St. Patrick's, who 
exhibited a like surprise at the urgency of 
the parties, and at first refused to sanction 
such a marriage, but yielded at last to 
their importunities. After due jiublica- 
tion of the bans they were married, and 
retired to their new home to spend the 
honeymoon. In a few days, the bridal 
chamber presented a solemn and affecting 
sj>ectacle. The dead body of the husband 
lay on a couch, and the young and lnvely 
bride writhed in agony on the bed ; she 
quickly followed bin), and their honeymoon 
was passed in another world. 

Notwithstanding the devotedness and 
self-sacrifice of the clergy, generally speak- 
ing, during these calamities, and the 
nuiuber wlio thus lost their lives, there 
was occasionally an exception. An anec- 
dote, illustrating this fact, used to be 
related by the Hon. Edward Livingston, 
who was mayor of New York, while the 
)ilague raged in that lity, and which will 
bear rejietition : The violence of the epi- 
demic was beginning to abate; its attacks 
were indeed not less nmnerous than before, 
but the proportion of its victims was daily 
diminishing. I had a few minutes at my 
own disposal (says Livingston), and I had 
gone one evening, in a carriage, a short 
distance from the city, to breathe the pure 
air of the coiintry, when I met on the road, 
at the very moment when I was aliout to 
return toward the city, a i)rotestant minis- 
ter — married, and the father of a numerous 
family. He. like the rest of his co-laborers, 
had tleil the fatal contagion. He was a 
man truly pious, of exemplar}' life, and 
presenting in his own jierson to his flock 
an examiile of the Christian virtues which 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



521 



he preaclied to tliem witli sincevity and 
eloquence. And yet, in tlie hour of 
danger, he had not remained, hut had fled, 
— not for himself, — he had been carried 
away by the panic with which his family 
were seized. He asked — 

" What is going on in town, Edward ? 
Is the sickness abating ? " 

" We are doing all we can, my reverend 
friend. We are taking care of the sick. 
The physicians are discharging most nobly 
their glorious mission — but tvhat can ire 
do for me7i's souls? The proper material 
succors abound, for never was charity more 
lavish of its offerings ; but the bread of tlie 
Word is wanting. The wretched ask in 
vain for those physicians of the mind dis- 
eased, whose consolations can cure the 
wounds of the spirit and rob death of its 
terrors. Well — what do you say ? Here 
is room for you in my carriage. Come in ! 
— the ripe harvest is falling to the ground, 
and there are no reapers to gather it." 

The reverend gentleman pressed Liv- 
ingston's hand — pointed to his wife and 
children who were at the door of a small 
house near the road — and walked away in 
silence. Had he belonged to any other 
profession, his anxiotj' for his family 
might well have excused him for sharing 
in that feeling of terror which, seizing 
like a panic upon all hearts, bid fair to 
depopulate the city. It was, indeed, a 
spectacle of sadness calculated to appal the 
stoutest heart — tlie mournful gloom of 
those empty streets, their silence broken 
only by the rumbling of the dead-cart and 
the driver's hoarse cry, "Bring out your 
dead!" — those houses loft open and fully 
furnished, from which the owners had fled 
— that forest of shipping, deserted and 
silent as those of the western wilds, — the 
heart recoiled from such sights and con- 
tacts. On the masts of some of these ves- 
sels hung still' the unfurled sail. On the 
wharves, too, might often be seen the bales 
of merchandise which terror had left there. 
There was no danger of their being carried 
off. Death was u[)permost in men's 
minds; business was forgotten ; the r/rave- 
yards looked like ploughed fields. 



But the anecdote of Livingston and the 
clerical friend is well offset by one related 
of the Rev. Mr. Whitall, a well-known 
Episcopal clergyman of New Orleans. 
Walking on the levee in pursuit of objects 
of charity, one day at noon, during the 
epidemic period, he was attracted to a 
number of laborers collected around some 
object. Elbowing his way through the 
crowd, Mr. Wliitall found a poor laborer 
lying on the ground, violently' sick with 
the prevailing disease, exposed to the 
sun, and suffering extremely. The crowd, 
though pitying his condition, appeared to 
be either too much frightened to render 
him any aid, or ignorant of how they 
could relieve him. But the experienced 
Samaritan did not long consider his dut}^ 
on such an occasion. Seizing one of the 
wheelbarrows used in carrying bales of 
cotton from the wharves to the ships, he 
rolled it up alongside the sick man, and 
laying him gently in it, wheeled his poor 
patient to the nearest hospital, and there 
secured for him such attendance as finally 
led to his recovery. 

As is usual, in times of threatened epi- 
demic, the authorities of most of the prin- 
cipal cities made due provision to avert its 
approach, by stringent sanitary regula- 
tions, or, failing in this, established hospi- 
t.als for the sick, retreats in the suburbs 
for those residing in the infected districts, 
and liberal approjiriations of food and 
money for the thousands of persons thrown 
out of employment at such a crisis. In 
some instances, these resolute proceedings 
were objected to. A few persons refused 
to go, and one man, who had been forcibly 
removed, returned clandestinely and shut 
himself in his house ; his foolish obstinacy' 
was not discovered until he was found dead 
in the place he was so unwilling to leave. 
Several merchants, too, laughing at the 
precautions of the authorities, persisted in 
visiting their counting-houses situated in 
the dangerous localities; their death 
atoned for their rashness. 

Among the women, the mortality' was 
not so great as among the men, nor among 
the old and infirm as among the middle- 



522 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



aged and robust. Tipplers and drunkards, 
as well as gourmands, were very suscepti- 
ble to tile disorder ; of these, many were 
seized, and the recoveries were very rare. 
To men and women of illicit pleasure, it 
was equally fatal ; the wretched, debilitated 
stateof their constitutions, produced by lust 
and excess, rendered them an easy prey to 
epidemic disease, which very soon termi- 
nated their miserable career. A vast num- 
ber of female domestics likewise fell victims. 

Dreadful was the destruction among the 
poor ; indeed, it is computed that at least 
seven-eighths of the number of the dead 
were of that class. The occupants of 
filthy houses severely expiated their neg- 
lect of cleanliness and decency. Whole 
families, in such houses, sunk into one 
silent, undistinguishing grave. The mor- 
tality in confined streets, small alleys, and 
close houses, debarreil of a free circulation 
of air, greatly' exceeded that in the large 
streets and well-aired houses. 

Of the committee appointed in Phila- 
delphia for the relief of the sick, it is 
related by one of their number, as a fact 
of peculiar physiological interest, that sev- 
eral of its members declared that .some of 
the most pleasurable hours of their exist- 
ence were spent during the heighth of the 
fever. They were released from the cares 
of business ; their committee duties fully 
occupied their minds, and engrossed their 
attention for the entire day ; they went to 
the State-house — the place of meeting — in 
the morning, after an e:iily breakfast; 
took !v cold collation there at dinner-time, 
the materials of which were constantly 
spread on a sideboard ; and there they 
remained till night, when they returned 
to their fannlics; custom robbed the situ- 
ation of its terrors. Tlie only interrujition 
to this state of their feelings, arose from 
the death of some friend or intimate ac- 
quaintance, or of some i)erson whom they 
had perhaps seen alive a few hours or a 
day before. But even these sad iuiijres- 



sions, though for the time strong and 
afHictive, soon wore away, and the tran- 
quil state returned. 

Empiricism and quackery were not in- 
active, even in times like these ; and tlie 
cholera was no exception among those 
'• ills to which tlesli is heir," for the cure 
of which charlatans had their " unfailing 
specific." But of all the nostrums thus 
brought forward, the " Vinegar of Four 
Thieves" was the most universal. A 
story was tied to its tail which gave it a 
poinilarity: Centuries ago, a dreadful 
plague raged in Marseilles. The peojile 
lied; the citj' was visited by no one 
except four thieves, wlio daily entered, 
robbed the houses, and carried their plun- 
der to the mountains. The astonished 
citizens, who had hid themselves in tlie 
dens and caves of the earth, for fear of the 
jdague, saw them daily pass and re-pass 
with their ill-gotten gear, and wondered 
most profoundly why the i>lague did not 
seize them. In process of time, however, 
one of these thieves was captured; they 
were just going to break him on the wheel, 
when he said if they would spare his life 
he would teach tliem to make the vinegar 
of four thieves, by means of which they 
had escaped the plague when robbing the 
city, — a request which was granted. The 
"secret" thus imparted, modern quacks 
claimed to make use of in the i)reparation 
of a jianacea for the cholera I Of course 
the venders got rich, for, during the e]ii- 
demic, multitudes credulously believed in 
the efficiency of smelling thieves' vinegar, 
and treated their noses accordingly. 

Terribly as some of the cities of the 
United States h.ave suffered from e[>idem- 
ics, they bear no comparison in this 
respect to the devastations by cholera in 
the cities of London and Paris, — in the 
latter of which, with true French sensibil- 
ity, the people have erected one of the 
finest monuments commemorative of the 
unfortunate victims. 



LXI. 

MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN", A NOTED MILLION- 
AIRE OF BOSTON, BY PROF. JOHN W. WEBSTER, OF 
HARVARD COLLEGE.— 1849. 



High Social Position of the Parties. — Instantarteous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, in the 
Community, on tlie Discovery of tlie Deed. — Remarkable Cliain of Circumstances Leading to the 
Murderer's Detection — Solemn and Exciting Trial — Account of tlie Mortal Blow and Disposal of the 
Remains. — Similar Case of Colt and Adams. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame — Mysterious Disappear- 
ance, November 23 — Appointment with Professor Webster, that Day. — Their Unhappy Pecuniary 
Relations. — Searcli for tlie Missing Millionaire. — Webster's Call on Parkman's Brother. — Explains 
the Interview of November 23. — No Trace of Parkman after that Date. — The Medical College 
Explored. — Scene in Webster's Rooms. — The Tea-Cliest, Vault, and Furnace. — Human Remains 
Found There. — Identified as Dr. Parkman's. — Arrest of Webster at Night. — Attempt at Suicide on 
the Spot. — Behavior in Court. — His Atrocious Guilt Proved. — Rendering the Verdict, — He Boldly 
Addresses the Jury. — Asserts His Entire Innocence. — Final Confession of the Crime —Hung near the 
Spot of His Birth. — The Similar and Tragical Case of John C. Colt, Murderer of Samuel Adams. 



" Tt (loth spem ton tlloody. 
First, to cnt nflFtlie lioati. then hiick thf limba;— 
like wrath in dtalh, and malice afterwards." 



EMOEABLE, almost beyond a parallel, in the crim- 
inal annals of America, is the great crime which 
finds its record in the following pages. The posi- 
tion of the parties, in their social and professional 
relations, the nature of the proof, and, indeed, all 
the circumstances of the case, invest the deed with 
a universal and permanent interest. 

On Friday, the twenty-third of November, 1849, 
Dr. George Parkman, one of the wealthiest and best 
known citizens of Boston, of an old family, and 
highly respected, one of the founders of the Massa- 
chusetts Medical College there, about sixty years of 
PROF. WEBSTER'S MURDER APPLiAhXEs. agc, of rather remarkable person and very active 
habits, was walking about the city, and transacting business as usual — one of his last 
acts, on that day, being the purchase of some lettuce for the dinner of his invalid daugh- 
ter ; the only otlier members of his family being his wife, and one son, who was then 
traveling on the continent of Europe. Being one of the most punctual of men, his 
absence from the family table at half-past three o'clock excited surprise ; and on the 
evening of the same day there was serious apprehension, his absence still continumg 
unexplained. It was thought best to postpone all public search until Saturday after- 




524 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



noon ; at two o'clock, therefore, there being 
no tidings of liini, a most vigorous and 
minute search was instituted I'y his 
friends, witli the aid of the police force of 
Boston and of advertisements offering 
large rewards for such intelligence as 
should load to his discover}'. He was 
described as sixty years of age, about five 
feet and nine inches high, gray hair, thin 
face, with a scar under the chin, light com- 
plexion, and usuullj- a ra[>id walker; he 
was dressed in a dark frock coat, dark j)an- 
taloons, purple silk vest, dark figured black 
stock, and black hat. The search was 
continued without intermission until the 
following Friday, men being sent in all 
directions for fifty or sixty miles, on all 
the railroads, to all the towns on the coast ; 
they searched over land and water, and 
under water. 

It was known tlie next Sunday follow- 
ing his disappearance, that on the previous 
Friday, at half-past one o'clock, Doctor 
Parknian had, liy ai)pointnu'nt, met with 
Dr. John W. Webster (Professor of Chem- 
istry in Harvard University, and Lecturer 
on Chemistry in the Medical College, Bos- 
ton,) in his rooms at the Medical College, 
and no further trace could be found ; the 
fact of this interview having been first 
communicated by Professor Webster. 

The nature of this interview, and the 
circumstances under which it took place, 
may lie here stated. In 1842, Doctor Park- 
man had lent Professor AVebster, on his 
promissory note, four hundred dollars, and 
in 1847 a further advance was made to 
Professor AVcbstcr by Doctor Parkinan and 
some other parties, in acknowledgment of 
which there was a promissory note given 
Doctor Parknian for two thousand four hun- 
dred and thirty-two dollars, payable by 
j-earl}' installments in four years; a balance 
due on a former note, to the amount of 
three hundred and thirty-two dnlhirs, 
being included. Doctor Parkman had held 
two mortgages ; one to secure the four 
hundred dullar note, which was given in 
1841.', and another which secured that note, 
and the other large note given in 1S47. 
The mortgage which was given in 1847, 



covered all Professor Webster's household 
furniture, his books, and all his minerals, 
and other objects of natural history. That 
cabinet, however, he secretly disjiosed of, 
so that all that was left to secure that 
mortgage was the household furniture, and 
what books he may have had. From a 
memorandum, prepared in April, 1840, it 
was sjiown that the amount of I'rofessor 
Webster's debt to Doctor I'arkman was, at 
that time, four hundred and fifty-six dol- 
lars, being made up of three items due at 
different times. Doctor Parkman had for 
some time pressed urgently for the balance 
due to himself, and there were frequent 
arid by no means friendly communications 
between the i>artie3 on the sul>ject. 

The account given by Professor Web- 
ster to the Rev. Dr. Francis Parkman — 
with whom he was on intimate terms, 
having formerly been a member of his 
congregation, and having very recently 
received from him pastoral offices, — of the 
last interview with his missing brother, 
was, that he called upon Doctor Parkman 
at half-past nine o'clock on the morning of 
Friday, November twenty-third, and ar- 
ranged that the doctor should meet him at 
the college at half-i)ast one ; that Doctor 
Parkman came at that hour, having some 
jiapers in his hand, and rei'eived from 
Professor Webster four hundred and 
eight^'-three dollars, and some odd cents, 
upon which Doctor Parkman took cmt one 
of the notes, and hurriedly dashing his i)en 
across the signature, went away in great 
haste, leaving the note behiiid him, saying, 
as he left the room, that he woidd have the 
mortgage canceled. On the last interview 
between them in the presence of any 
witness, and which took jilace in the col- 
lege on the previous Jlondav. Doctor Park- 
man indignantly complaineil to Professor 
Webster that the cabinet of minerals, which 
was mortgaged to him in security of the 
advances he made, had been afterwards 
fraudnlentl}' sold to his brother-in-law, Mr. 
Robert G. Shaw ; and to another jiersoii 
he made some very severe remarks in rela- 
tion to this transaction, substantially, if 
not in express terms, charging Professor 



GREAT A^T) MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



525 



Webster with dishonesty. At parting, Doc- 
tor Parkman is reported to have said with 
much energy, "something must be done 
to-morrow!" Tlie following day, Profes- 
sor Webster sent a note to Doctor Park- 
man, in response to whicli the doctor went 
out to Cambridge, on Tliursday, to Profes- 
sor Webster's house. 

Every clue discovered led the searchers 
back to the medical college in Boston, and 
there ended; no person being to be found 
who had spoken witli Doctor Parkman 
after his interview with Professor Webster. 
Along with other buildings, the college 
was searched ; first on Monday — sliglitlj-, 
and merely by way of excuse for searching 
other houses in the neighborhood, — and 
again upon Tuesday, but with no serious 
suspicions and with no discovery, Profes- 
sor Webster cheerfully accompanying the 
officers through his own apartments. 

In the meantime, another investigation 
had been going on in the hands of Little- 
field, the janitor of the college, who had as 
early as Sunday evening begun to enter- 
tain suspicions, which all his subsequent 
assiduous watching increased, and which 
led to the discover}', upon Fridaj', in the 
laboratory, and in a vault connected with 
it, of certain human remains, believed to 
be those of Doctor Parkman, and to tlie 
apprehension and ultimately to the trial of 
Professor Webster on the charge of 
murder. It was a case, in comparison 
with which, those of Hare, Avery, Robin- 
son, Strang, Ward, Washburn, Thomas, 
and Rogers, appear but ordinary. 

The premises in the medical college used 
by Professor Webster, consisted of a lec- 
ture-room in front ; an upper laboratory 
behind the lecture-room, furnished with a 
stove, water and a sink, and a small room 
adjoining, where chemical materials were 
kept. These were on the first floor. On 
the basement story there was a lower lab- 
oratory, reached by a staircase from the 
upper one ; this contained an assay fur- 
nace, was provided with water and a sink, 
had a store-room adjoining, and a private 
closet, with an opening into a vault at the 
base of the building, into which vault the 



sea-water had access through the stones of 
the wall, which had been some years 
before slightly pushed out of their original 
position. Into this vault there was no 
opening except that in the private closet. 
After all the other parts of the college had 
been repeatedly searched without success, 
the janitor resolved to make an examina- 
tion of this vault, which he effected by 
secretl}' breaking a hole through the brick 
and lime wall, at a point almost directly 
under the private closet, taking care to 
work only during Professor Webster's 
absence. 




/"^ ^cur-^. 



On the afternoon of Friday, the thirtieth 
of November, exactly a week after Doctor 
Parkman's disajipearance, the opening was 
made ; and there were discovered, lying in 
the vault, parts of a male human body. 
These consisted of the pelvis or hip bones, 
the right thigh from the hip to the knee, 
and the left leg, from the knee to the 
ankle. 

In consequence of this disclosure, Pro- 
fessor Webster was immediately appre- 
hended ; and a more careful search was 
made in the laboratory on the next and 
the following daj's, which resulted in fur- 
ther discoveries. Buried among tan in a 
tea-chest, and covered with specimens of 
minerals, there were found a large hunt- 
ing-knife ; a thorax or chest, with both 
clavicles and scapulte attached, and having 
a perforation in the region of the heart; 
and a left thigh, to which a piece of string 



526 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187C. 



was fastened. In the ashes of the furnace, 
also, were found grains of gold, a pearl 
shirt hutton, a human tooth, blocks of 
mineral teeth, and about fifty fragments 
of bone belonging to the skull, face, and 
other part-s of tlie human body. There 
was also found in the laboratory a largo 
double-edged sheath-knife — called also a 
Turkish knife — a .•iniall saw, a hammer, 
and some other articles. 

In arresting Professor Webster, three 
of the Hoston police proceeded at night, 
under the direction of Mr. Clajij), in a 
coach, to his residence in Cambridge, on 
knockin;;^ at the door of which and inquir- 
ing for the professor, the account of what 
transpired is as follows : That he came for- 
ward to see what was wanted ; we told him 
that we wanted him to go with us and as- 
sist at one more search of the medical col- 
lege. He said something about its hav- 
ing been searched two or three times 
before, but was very willing to accompany 
us, and putting off his slijjpers, drew on 
his boots, and came out. Just as we 
started, he remarked that he had forgotten 
his keys, and would go back and get them; 
he was told that they had keys enough to 
unloi:k all the rooms in the college, and it 
would not be necessary for him to go back 
after them — ^he said it was very well, and 
got into the coach. The driver turned 
toward Boston, and on the way Professor 
Webster conversed on indifferent subjects. 
The conversation finilly fell upon the dis- 
appsarance of Dj'tor Parkman. Profes- 
sor Webster remarked that a Mrs. Bent, 
of Cambridge, had seen Doctor Parkman 
at a very late hour on the Friday evening 
wlien he disappeared, and he said as she 
lived near the bridge, it might be well to 
call and see her ; this was declined, with 
the reply that they could go some other 
time. 

On the party coming over the bridge, 
Professor Webster asked if anything fur- 
ther had been done in the search for the 
doctor ; he was told that the doctor's hat 
had been found in the water at Charles- 
town, and that tlie river had been dragged 
above and below the bridge. As the coach 



went along, the driver j>assed beyond the 
street leading to the college, and directed 
his way up towards the jail. I'rofessor 
Webster remarked that he was going in a 
wrong direction. To this, policeman Chijip 
made reply, that the coachman was a new 
hand and somewhat green, but he would 
doubtless discover and rectify his mistake. 
This reason .satisfied him. The coacliinan 
still drove on, and .shortly' after arrived at 
the jail. Cl.app got out of the coach and 
went into the jail, to see if there were any 
spectators there — found there were not, 
and then went back and said to those in 
the coach, "I wish, gentlemen, j'ou would 
alight here for a few moments." The ofli- 
cers got out of the coach, and the professor 
followed. They passed into the outer 
office, and Clapp then said, "Gentlemen, 
I guess we had better walk into the inner 
office." Looking strangely at Clapp, Pro- 
fessor Webster said — 

" If'hdt is the meanintj of all this ? " 
" Professor Webster," replied Mr. Clapp, 
" j-ou will perhaps remember that in com- 
ing over Cambridge bridge, I told you tliat 
the river above and below it had been 
dragged ; we have also been dragging in 
the college, ami we have been looking for 
the body of Dr I'arkman. Yon are now 
in custodi/, on the charge of being his Diiif- 
det-er!" 

On hearing this announcement, he ut- 
tered two or three sentences which were 
not distinctly understood, but which were 
su]iposed at the time to refer to the nature 
of the crime with which he was charged; 
he finally .spoke plainly, and said he would 
like his family to be told of his arrest. 
Jlr. Clapp rejilied, that if his family were 
informed, as he requested, it would be a 
sad night to theni, and advised him far- 
ther — as he was beginning to talk — that 
he would better not fay anything to any- 
body at that time. On afterwards carry- 
ing the prisoner to the college and labora- 
tory, he was greatly agitated, and looked 
as though he did not know what was going 
on about him. He appeared to act pre- 
cisely as some persons are known to wlien 
in delirium tremens; some one handed 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



527 



him water, but he could not drink, and 
snapped at the glass like a mad dog. 
Concerning this jjeriod, Professor Web- 
ster states, in his own words : ' When I 
found the carriage was stopping at the 
jail, I was sure of my fate. Before leav- 
ing the carriage I took a dose of strj-ch- 
nine from m^' pocket and swallowed it. I 
liad prepared it in the shape of a pill be- 
fore I left my laboratory on the twenty- 
third. I thought I could not bear to sur- 
vive detection. I thought it was a large 
dose. The state of my nervous sj'stem 
probabl}' defeated its action partiall}-.' 

After a long investigation of the case, 
the grand jur}' found an indictment against 




the prisoner for the murder of Doctor 
Parkman, which came on for trial at Bos- 
ton, before Chief Justice Shaw and three 
associate justices, Wilde, Metcalf, and 
Dewey, of the supreme judicial court of 
Massachusetts, upon the nineteenth of 
INIarch, 1850. Some time before the 
judges took their places upon the bench. 
Professor Webster, — until now the inti- 
mate companion of senators, judges, di- 
vines, men of literature and science — 
entered, and immediately took his seat in 
the felon's dock. His step was light and 
elastic, in crossing towards his place, and 
his countenance betraj'ed a marked degree 
of calm and dignified composure. On sit- 
ting down, he smiled, as he saluted several 
of his friends and acquaintances, to some 



of whom he familiarly nodded ; and a 
stranger would have taken him for an or- 
dinary spectator. He wore his spectacles, 
and sat with ease and dignity in the dock, 
occasionally shaking hands with friends. 
The countenance of Professor Webster in- 
dicated strong animal passions, and irasci- 
ble temperament. The cheek-bones high, 
and the mouth, with compressed lips, be- 
trayed great resolution and firmness of 
character. The forehead inclined to an- 
gular, rather low, and partially retreating. 
Standing below the middle height, and bj^ 
no means a man of muscular strength, his 
general ajipearance made no very favorable 
impression. On the reading of the indict- 
ment, by the clerk, the prisoner stood up 
in the dock and listened with marked at- 
tention. Almost every eye was turned 
towards him at this time, but he exhibited 
the same self-possession and determined 
control as from the first, pleading 'Not 
Guilty,' in a strong and emphatic tone of 
voice. Ex-Governor Clifford was his sen- 
ior counsel. 

The trial lasted during eleven days, 
there having been no fewer than one hun- 
dred and sixteen w^itnesses examined — 
forty-seven of them being called on behalf 
of the accused, including his professional 
friends and neighbors. Presidents Sparks 
and Walker, Professors Peirce, Bowen, 
Hosford, Palfrey, and Wyman. Scientific 
testimony was also given by Prof. 0. W. 
Holmes, and others ; and the court sat 
eight or nine hours each daj*. The testi- 
mony -was of a most deeply' interesting 
and exciting character. The various parts 
of the body found in the vault, furnace, 
and tea-chest, were, by the marvelous and 
beautiful science of anatomj-, under the 
skillful hand of Prof. Jeffries Wyman, re- 
integrated, and found to constitute a 
body, positively recognized by some of 
Doctor Parkman's intimate associates as 
his. Doctor Keep identified the mineral 
teeth as the set made by him for the doc- 
tor. The gener.al figure and appearance 
indicated by the remains, including a very 
peculiar hairiness of the back, corresponded 
perfectly with Doctor Parkman's; the 



528 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



heiglit, which, on the evidence of the anat- 
omists examined, 'could be dt-teruiined 
certainly within half an inch,' was just 
the same ; the form of the lower jaw, too, 
shown by four fragments of the right half, 
ini]>lied a rising chin, which was so promi- 
nent a feature of the doctor. Every cir- 
cumstance brouglit forward tended to show 
that Doctor I'arknian's last known where- 
abouts was at the medical college, on the 
day when he was there to meet Professor 
Webster; that the remains found in the 
ajiartments of the latter were those of the 
doctor; tliat the professor, during the 
week succeeding the day of Doctor Park- 
man's disaiipearance, was locked in his 
laboratory at unusual hours; that during 
that week, intense fires Jiad been kept up 
in the furnace, and water was used in pro- 
digious quantities. So overwhelming was 
the evidence substantiating these and kin- 
dred facts, and so strong and unbroken the 
cliain of circumstances which connected 
Professor Wclistcr's movements with the 
great and awful deed, that the verdict of 
guilty seemed inevitable, when the ques- 
tion should be finally ])assed ui]on by the 
jury. l>ut, tbrijiigli all tln' jnotracted 
trial, the i)risoner maintained ])erfect com- 
posure, even when facts and objects were 
disclosed which would have made most 
men tremble. He also had the hardihood 
to address the jury, previous to the charge 
from the bench, explaining away the evi- 
dence against him, and asserting his en- 
tire innocence. 

At the conclusion of the judge's charge, 
the case was committed to the jury, and 
in about three hours they returned to de- 
liver their verdict. Prufessor Webster also 
soon appeared in the charge of an ofticer; 
he moved with a qiiick, nervous step, and 
took his place in a chair beside the prison- 
er's dock, which he soon after changed for 
the arm-chair in the iron picket inclosures. 
His appearance w,is pale and thoughtful, 
with a serious dejectedness which was ap- 
parent in the contraction of the muscles 
about the mouth. The profound and 
death-like stillness was now broken by the 
clerk, who said — 



"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed 
on a verdict '.' "' 

" We have,"' was the response. 

" Who shall speak for you. gentlemen ? " 

" The foreman," answered some of the 
jury. 

"John W. Webster, hold up }"0ur right 
hand," said the clerk. 

The i)risoner rose and looked steadily 
and intensely upon the foreman; and the 
clerk then continued — 

" Mr. Foreman, look ujton the prisoner. 
Prisoner, look upon the jury." 

Professor Webster still maintained his 
fixed and intense look of inquii-y upon the 
foreman, trying to gather from his coun- 
tenance some indication of the sentiments 
of the jury upon which deiiended life or 
death to him. 

" What saj' you, Mr. Foreman, is John 
W. Webster, the prisoner at the bar, guilty, 
or not guilty ? " demanded the clerk. 

" Giii/fi/."' was the solemn res]ionse. 

When the foreman pronounceil the word 
Guiltj', the prisoner started, lil(e a person 
shot; and his hand, which had hitherto 
been held erect, fell to the bar in front of 
him with a dead sound, as if he 1i:h1 sud- 
denly been deprived of nniseular action. 
He soon sat down ; his chin drooped upon 
his breast. He put his hand up to his 
face, hut his nerves trcmblecl so that he 
appeared to be fumbling with his fingers 
under his spectacles, and, shutting his 
ej-es, he gave a deep, lieart-breaking sigh, 
which spoke of the inexpressible anguish 
of his soul. All eyes were fixed in sad- 
ness ujmn the doomed man. On the en- 
suing Monday he received his sentence to 
be hung. 

Subsequently, proceedings were taken, 
but unsuccessful, on the jiart of Professor 
Webster, to set aside the trial, on the 
ground of some alleged technical informal- 
ities; and a petition to Governor Briggs, 
— likewise unavailing — for a commutation 
of the sentence, on the grouml that the 
killing, now confessed by Professor Web- 
ster, was done in the heat of excessive 
provocation. In this confession, Professor 
Webster states, as follows, the manner in 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



529 



which the murder was committed : — Doc- 
tor Parkman agreed to call on me as I 
proposed. He came, accordingly, between 
half-past one and two o'clock, entering at 
the lecture-room door. I was engaged in 
removing some lecture-room glasses from 
my table into the room in the rear, called 
the upper laboratory. Ho came rapidly 
down the step, and followed me into the 
laboratory. He immediately addressed 
me with great energy — ' Are you ready 
for me, sir ? Have j'ou got the money ? ' 
I replied, ' No, Doctor Parkman ; ' and I 
was then beginning to state my condition 
and my appeal to him, but he would not 
listen to me, and interrupted me with 
much vehemence. He called me a scoun- 
drel and a liar, and went on heaping on 



obtain the object for which I sought the 
interview, but I could not stop him, and 
soon my own temper was up ; I forgot 
everything, and felt nothing but the sting 
of his words. I was excited to the highest 
degree of passion, and while he was speak- 
ing and gesticulating in the most violent 
and menacing manner, thrusting the letter 
and his fist into my face, in my fury I 
seized whatever thing was handiest, (it 
was a stick of wood,) and dealt him an 
instantaneous blow with all the force that 
passion could give it. I did not know, or 
think, or care, where I should hit him, nor 
how hard, nor what the effect would be. 
It was on the side of his head, and there 
was nothing to break the force of the blow. 
He fell instantly upon the pavement. 




I'ltUFESSKK WEHSTEK'S CELL IN I'lllSOX. 



me the most bitter taunts and opjirobrious 
epithets. While he was speaking, he drew 
out a handful of papers from his pocket, 
and took from among them my two notee, 
and also an old letter from Doctor Hosack, 
written many j'ears ago, congratulating 
him on his success in getting me appointed 
Professor of Chemistry. ' You see,' he 
said, 'I was the means of getting j'ou into 
your office, and now I will get you out of 
it.' He put back into his pocket all the 
papers except the letters and the notes. 
I cannot tell how long the torrent of 
threats and invectives continued, and I 
can recall to memory but a small jiortion 
of what he said ; at first I kept interpos- 
ing, trying to pacify him, so that I might 
31 



There was no second blow ; he did not 
move. I stooped down over him, and he 
seemed to be lifeless. Blood flowed from 
his mouth, and I got a sponge and wiped 
it away. I got some ammonia and ap- 
plied it to his nose, but without effect. 
Perhaps I spent ten minutes in attempts 
to resuscitate him, but I found he was ab- 
solutely dead. In mj' horror and conster- 
nation I ran instinctively to the doors and 
bolted them, the doors of the lecture-room, 
and of the laboratory below. And then, 
what was I to do ? It never occurred to 
me to go out and declare what had been 
done, and obtain assistance. I saw noth- 
ing but the alternative of a successful 
movement and concealment of the body on 



530 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the one liaml. ami of infamy and destruc- 
tion on the otlier. The first tiling I did, 
as soon as I could do anything, was to 
draw the body into the private room ad- 
joining, where I took off the clothes and 
liegan putting them into the fire, wliich 
was burning in the upper laboratory. 
They were all consumed there that after- 
noon. 

The painful details of the separation 
and ilisposal of the parts arc tin ii (b'scribed 
by Professor Webster, — the iiody dismem- 
bered ; the head, viscera, and some of the 
limbs thrown into the fire of the furnace, 
'and fuel heaped on ;' and the remainder 
of the body put in two cisterns with water, 
one of which was under the lid of the lec- 
ture-room table, and the other in the lower 
laboratory, into the latter of which a 
quantity of potash was at the same time 
thrown. 

In continuation of this ghastly narrative. 
Professor Webster says : — When the body 
had l>eeii thus all disposed of, i cleared 
away all traces of what had been done. I 
think the stick with wliicli the fatal blow 
had been struck, [iroved to be a jiiece of 
the stump of a large grape-vine — sa^' two 
inches in diameter, and two feet long. It 
was one of several piec^es which I had 
carried in from Cambridge long before, 
for the purpose of showing the effect of 
certain chemical fluids in coloring wood, 
by being absorbed into the pores. The 
gra])e-vine, being a very porous wood, was 
well ada])ted for that ])urpose. Another 
longer stick had been used as intenileil, 
and exhibited to the students. This one 
had not been used. I put it into the fire. 
I took up the two notes either from the 
table or the floor; I think the talile, close 
by where Doctor Parkman bad fallen. I 
seized an old metallic pen lying on the 
table, dashed it across the face, and 
through the signatures, and put them in 
my pocket. I do not know why I did this 
rather than put them in the fire, for I had 
not considered for a moment what effect 
either mode of disposing of them would 
have on the mortgivge, or my indebtedness 
to Doctor -Parkman and the other ]>ersons 



interested, and I had not ^-et given a sin- 
gle thought to the (juestion as to what 
account 1 should give of the object or re- 
sult of my interview with D<H"tor Park- 
man. I left the college to go home as late 
as si.\ o'clock. I collected mvself as widl 
as I could, that I might meet my family 
and others with composure. 

It was on Sunday that Professor Weli- 
ster, according to his fiwn assertion, for 
the first time made up his mind what 
course to take, and what aci-ount to give 
of the appointed meeting between him and 
Doctor Parkman ; that on the same day 
he looked into the laboratory but did noth- 
ing; on Monday, after the officers' visit 
of search to the college, he threw the parts 
which had been iiuder the lecture-table 
into the vault, and packed the thorax into 
the te.a-chest ; the j)erforation of the tho- 
rax was made by the knife ; and at the 
time of removing the viscera on Wednes- 
day, he jiut on kindlings, and made a tire 
in the furnace below, having first j)oked 
down the ashes; some of the limbs were 
consume<l at this time. This, he .says, 
was the last be bad to do with the remains. 
The lisb-Iiiioks, tied up as grapples, were 
to be used for drawing u|i the ])arts in the 
vault. On the very night of the murder, 
he and his family made a neighborly call 
tit Professor Treadwell's, passing the even- 
ing in .social conversation and jilaying 
whist ! It was that baneful feature in 
American society — extravagance — which 
alone brought Webster to calculate the life 
of liis creditor and benefactor, and which, 
in so many other eminent cxamjilcs, like 
those of Huntington, Ketchum, Edwards, 
Schuyler, and Oardiner, took the shape of 
gigantic frauds and j)eculation. 

So plain were the facts involving Pro- 
fessor Webster's terrible guilt, however, 
that no efforts to palliate his atrocious 
crime had the least effect upon the public 
mind in lightening the cru.shing weight 
of infamy from his name, nor did the arm 
of retributive justice for a moment swerve 
or falter. Upon a scaffold, in the same 
quarter of his native city where he and his 
victim first breathed the breath of life. and 



GREA.T AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



531 



in full view of the classic halls of Harvard 
College, John White Webster jjaid the 
extreme penalty of the law, and his form 
now lies interred in one of the sequestered 
dells of Mount Auburn, not far from the 
spot where rest the shattered remains of 
the ill-fated Parknian. Professor Webster 
owed his appointment at Harvard Univer- 
sity to the influence of Doctor Parkman 
and the eminent and honored Dr. Cas- 
par Wistar, of Philadelphia, president of 
the American Philosophical Society. 

No such deep and wide-spread excite- 
ment had, for many years, attended any 
other of the numerous murders committed 
for pecuniary motives, excepting, perhaps, 
the cold-blooded killing of Samuel Adams, 
a highly respected printer, by John C. 
Colt, author of the sj'stem of book-keeping 
and penmanship bearing his name, and 
brother of the well-known inventor of the 
revolver. This deed occurred in the city 
of New York, in September, 1841. Colt 
had for some time owed Adams a hill for 
printing, which he was unprepared to pay. 
The final call made by Adams, at Colt's 
room on Broadway, for a settlement of 
the account, resulted in a tragedy rarely 
equaled in the annals of crime. 

For some days, the mysterious absence 
of Mr. Adams was the subject of universal 
comment in the newspaper press. The 
discovery of the murder was made through 
the instrumentality of Mr. Wheeler, who 
occupied a room adjoining that of Colt. 
About four o'clock, p. m., on the day of 
!Mr. Adams's disappearance, Mr. Wheeler 
thought he heard an unusual noise in 
Colt's room, and was induced to go to the 
door and rap. Not receiving any answer, 
he looked through the key-hole, and saw 
two hats standing upon a table, and Colt 
kneeling upon the floor, as if scrubbing it. 
After waiting a little while, Mr. Wheeler 
peeped into the key-hole again, and saw 
Colt still engaged in the same operation. 
This excited his suspicions, and he caused 
a person to watch at the door all night. 
In the morning, Colt was seen to take a 
box, about four feet long and two high, 
down stairs. The box was directed to 



somebody in St. Louis, via New Orleans. 
Mr. Wheeler gave information of these 
facts to the mayor, who immediately insti- 
tuted search for the box ; it was found, 
after some difficulty, on board of the ship 
Kalamazoo, and in it the body of Mr. Ad- 
ams, wrapped up in sail-cloth and sprinkled 
with salt and chloride of lime. 

Colt was at once arrested, and an indict- 
ment for willful and deliberate murder 
found against him. His trial resulted in 
his conviction ; and, notwithstanding the 
efforts of numerous and powerful friends, 
and the lavish use of money, in liis behalf, 
the fatal day arrived when he was to pay 
the extreme penalty of the law for his 
great crime. The scaffold was erected — 
the whole city surged with excitement — 
the crowd gathered around the prison was 
immense. 

At eleven o'clock. Rev. Dr. Anthon vi.s- 
ited Colt's cell, in company with Colt's 
brother, for the purpose of marrying the 
murderer to his mistress, Caroline Hen- 
shaw. The ceremony was performed, Colt 
manifesting a deep interest in their child. 
He also handed a package containing five 
hundred dollars for its benefit to Doctor 
Anthon, who proffered to become sponsor 
for it, which was eagerly accepted by Colt. 

About one o'clock, Colt's brother, Sam- 
uel, again arrived, and entered the cell. 
Colt was still engaged in conversation with 
his wife, who was sitting on the foot of the 
bed, convulsed with tears. At Colt's re- 
quest, John Howard Payne and Lewis Gay- 
lord Clarke then went into the cell to take 
their leave of him. Colt appeared exceed- 
ingly pleased to see them, shook them cor- 
dially by the hand, and conversed with ap- 
parent cheerfulness with them for five 
minutes, when they bade him farewell, both 
of them in tears. Colt's wif«, and his 
brother Samuel, also soon left, both deeply 
affected. The wife could scarcely support 
herself, so violent were her feelings and 
acute her sufferings. She stood at the 
door of the cell for a minute — Colt kiss- 
ing her passionately, straining her to his 
bosom, and watching intensely her reced- 
ing form, as she passed into the corridor. 



532 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 



Here slie stoofl and soMx'd oonvulsivi-ly, 
as tliougli Ikt Ill-art would l>rcak, until led 
away by friends. 

Colt now desired to see the sheriff, who 
went into his eell. Colt then told him 
eniphaticall}' that lie was innocent of the 
nuinlcr of Adams, and that he never in- 
tciidid to kill him ; he also said tliat lie 
had hopes that something would intervene 
to save him from being hung, and begged 
the sheriff not to execute the sentence of 
the law ui>on him. The sheriff told him 
to banish all hope of that kind, for lie 
must die at four o'clock. He then asked 
to see Doctor Aiithon, who went into liis 
cell, and remained in pra^-er with him 
about ten minutes. At the close of this, 
Colt again sent for the sheriff, an<l .said to 
him, " If there are an\' gentlemen present 
who wish to sec nie, and fake their leave 
of me, I shall be happy to see them." 

This was announced by the sheriff, and 
all present, with one or two exceptions, 
passed up to his cell door, shook^ him by 
the hand, and took their leave of him. 
To one gentleman connected with the 
press, he said : " I've spoken harshly of 
some of the press, but I do not blame j-ou 
at all ; it was all my own fault. There 
■were things that ought to have been ex- 
plained. I know you have a good heart, 
and I forgive you from my soul freely; 
may (!od bless you, and may you prosper." 

Ill' tlieii requested the keeper, Mr. 
Greene, to let him be left alone until the 
last moment. This \.as about two o'<loi-k. 
His cell was closed, ami 1ic was lilt alone 
till twenty minutes to three, when smiie 
friends of the sheriff, apprehending that 
an attempt at suicide might bo made by 
(Jolt, desired deputy sheriff Hillyer to go 
to Colt's cell door, and request to wish him 
' good bye.' Colt was then walking up 



and down his cell, but turned around on the 
door opening, smiled on Hillyer, shook him 
by the hand and kissed him, as he did sev- 
eral of those who had just previously bid 
him farewell in this life. He said to Hill- 
yer, " God bless you, and may you prosper 
in this life, which is .soon to clo.se on iiie." 
From this time, the excitement around 
the prison increased tremendously, and the 
feelings of those in the prison were also 
worked up to a pitch of great intensity. 
No one, however, entered bis cell till pre- 
cisely live minutes to four o'clock, at which 
time Sheriffs Hart and Westervelt, dressed 
in uniform, and accompanied by Doctor 
Anthon, jn-occeded to the cell. On the 
keeper opening the door, Doctor Anthon, 
wlio was first, threw u|) bis hands and eyes 
to Heaven, and uttering a faint ejaculation, 
tuniril pale as deatli and retired. "As I 
thought,'' said the keeper. "As I thought," 
said others. And going into the cell, there 
lay Colt on his back, stretched out at full 
length on the bed, quite dead, but not 
cold. A clasp knife, like a small dirk 
knife, with a broken handle, was sticking 
in his heart. |Ie Jiad stabbed himself 
about the fifth rib, on the left side. His 
tem])les were j'et warm. His vest was 
open, the blood Jiad flowed freel}', and his 
liands, which were lying across the stom- 
ach, were very bloody; he had evidently 
worked and turned the knife round and 
roiiiiil in his heart after stabbing himself, 
until be made quite a large gash. His 
mouth was oi)eii, his eyes jiartially so, and 
his body lay as straight on the bed as if 
laid out for a funeral by others. Most 
strange to say, just at this moment, the 
large cupola of the prison was di.scovered 
to be on fire, and burned furiously. The 
scene and circumstances were tragical to a 
degree altogether indescribable. 



LXII. 

THE UNITED STATES GRINNELL EXPEDITIONS OF 1850 
AND 1853, TO THE ARCTIC SEAS.— 1850. 



Search for Sir John Franklin, the Lost Navigator. — Traces of His Melancholy and Mysterious Fate. — 
Dr. Kane's Discovery of an Open Polar Sea, Three Thousand Square Miles in Area. — The "Great 
Glacier," a Lofty and Dazzling Ice-Wall of Boundless Dimensions. — The "Stars and Stripes" Car- 
ried Farther North than any other Flag. — Origin of this Undertaking. — Franklin's Bold Enterprise — 
No Tidings of him for Years.— Vessels Sent in Search.— Lady Franklin's Warm Appeal — Mr. Grin- 
nell's Noble Response — Fits out Dellaven's Expedition. — Sailing of the Advance and Rescue. — Frank- 
lin's Winter Quarters Found. — Dellaven Imbedded in Ice. — Eighty Days of Polar Darkness — Fruit- 
less Efforts : Return IIorae^^Renewed Search by Dr. Kane. — At the E.xtreme Solitary North — Its Ter- 
ror and Sublimity. — Mercury and Whiskey Freeze Solid. — No Sunlight for Five Months. — A Vast 
Crystal Bridge. — It Connects Two Continents — Kane Ice Bound : Awful Perils — One Thousand Three 
Hundred Miles Traveled in Sledges. — Final Escape : Arrival Home. — Dr. Hayes's Heroic Adventures. 



" Waste and wild the view I 
An endleBfl desert, where extri'me of cold 
Eternal Bits, us in Ills native seat, 
la wintry hills of never-lhawing ice." 




lOYAGES and expeditions of discovery to the Arctic waters, on the 
jiurt of European nations, have been quite numerous, in modern 
times ; but it was not until the year 1850, tliat the epoch of Arctic 
adventure commenced in the United States. The main object of the 
enterprising expedition of Polar discovery which sailed from Amer- 
ica, in May, of the year just named, was to search for Sir John 
Franklin, the celebrated English explorer of that ice-bound region, 
who sailed from the Thames, in the spring of 1845, in command of the ships Erebus 
and Terror, but, not returning, his probable fate absorbed the minds of the whole Brit- 
ish public to the highest degree, — every theory being discussed which would account 
for his prolonged absence, and every means brought into requisition, by which succor 
could be rendered. Several expeditions were sent out from England, in quest of the 
gallant Franklin, but without any more positive result than the finding of a few distinct 
though unproductive traces of his melancholy and mysterious fate. Lady Franklin 
equipped an expedition at her own expense ; and also made an affecting appeal to the 
United States government, to lend its aid in furthering the search. This was responded 
to, with a hearty good-will, by the American i)eople ; and called forth the munificent 
offer of ten thousand dollars from Mr. Henry Grinnell, a wealthy and honored merchant 
and philanthropist, of New York, in behalf of an expedition that should sail under the 
American flag, for the far-off region of the lost adventurers. This offer was accept.ed 
and the enterprise soon asumed a definite character. Mr. Grinnell supplying the 



534 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



vessels and means, and the national gov- 
ernment the men and the discipline. On 
account of this union of governmental and 
individual patronage, the enterprise was 
called " Tlie. United States Grinndl Ej-jh- 
dition in Search of Sir John Franklin^ 

On the 23d of May, this expedition em- 
barked from Now York. It consisted of 
two brigs, the Advance and Rescue, 
manned by thirty-eight men. They were 
placed under the command of Lieut. E. J. 
DeHaven ; and Doctor E. K. Kane was 
appointed surgeon and naturalist to the 
expedition. The other ])rincipal officers 
were Messrs. Grirtin, ^lurdaugli, Carter, 
Lovell, Brooks, and Vreeland. AA hands, 
officers and men, were thoroughly equipped 
for Arctic dutj-. 

On the beginning of July, the vessels 
were in Baffin Bay, struggling on amidst 
icebergs and ice-floes, which increased in 
number and perplexity as Melville Bay 





//-^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^ 



was approached. The passage of the lat- 
ter was an arduous affair, and so tedious 
that little hope was entertained of reach- 
ing Barrow Strait before the close of 
the season ; but, much to their surpri.se, 
they entered Wellington Sound on the 
26th of August, IS-no, and were among the 
first to explore (Jape Riley and Heechey 
Island, where they struck upon unmistak- 
able evidence of Franklin's first winter 
<]uarters — three graves with inscriptions 
on wooden head-board.s, dating as late as 
April, 184G; their inmates, according to 



these inscriptions, were of his crew, two 
being from the Erebus and one from the 
Terror. There were, besides, fragments 
of canvas, articles of clothing, wood and 
rordage, undoubted proof of a large and 
long encampment, — but affording no indi- 
cations which would serve as guides to the 
searchers or give assurame to hope. 

After Severn' ineffectual efforts to con- 
tinue the search, which were frustrated by 
the great accumulation of ice, Lieutenant 
DeHaven determined on returning home, 
but found that they were locked in, near 
the mouth of Wellington's Channel. And 
now commenced the wonderful ice-drift, 
the account of which reads more like ro- 
mance than reality. In battling with the 
ice the Rescue became disabled, and all 
her crew were removed to the Advance. 
By force of the northern ice-drift they 
were helplessly drifted to 75° 25' north 
latitude, and thence drifted again into 
Lancaster Sound. The agitation of the 
ice elevated tlie Advance some seven feet 
by the stern, and keeled her nearly three 
feet starboard. In this position she re- 
mained, with some slight changes, for five 
consecutive months. It was while ini- 
bed<led in their huge ice cradle that they 
were carried up Wellington Channel to 
the degree of latitude already named, and 
there they saw land to the north-west to 
which the name of Grinnell was given. 
A\niile in the midst of their ice island, 
which was five miles long and three broad, 
the depth of winter was around them, in 
all its frozen terror.s. The polar night fell 
upon them, and for eighty days no ray of 
solar light broke upon their vision. The 
thermometer ranged forty degrees below 
zero, and sometimes sank to forty-six. 
They every moment exjiected the embrac- 
ing ice would crush the vessel to atoms, 
and consequently stood prepared, sleeping 
in their clothes, with knapsacks on their 
1 lacks, to try their chances on the ice, mid 
storm, and terror, and night. Tlie3' were 
then ninety miles from land. The scurvy, 
too, broke out, only three men escaping 
an attack ; but it finally yielded to a bev- 
erage com])osed of a sort of apple tea and 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



535 



lemon juice. The stores, materials, and 
cordage, were stowed away in snow-houses 
erected on tlie ice, where the party formed 
a sort of encampment. 

But this situation of peril and awe was 
not wholly without its attractions. Auro- 
ras, parhelia — mock suns, and mock moons 
— of the most vivid luster, succeeded one 
another without intermission, and as da^' 
approached, the twilights, streaking the 
northern horizon, were vividly beautiful. 
At length, the orb of day showed his 
golden face, and was hailed with three 
hearty American cheers. Gradually his 
iiifiueuce was felt, and the waxen-like color 
of the complexion, which the long night 
had superinduced, gave place to freckles 
and tan. The Rescue was re-occupied on 
the 13th of May. 

The disruption of the ice was sudden 
and appalling. In twenty minutes from 
its first moving, the vast field, as far as 
the eye could reach, became one mass of 
moving floes, and the expedition once more 
drifted southward. On the 10th of June, 
having passed the ])erils of Lancaster 
Sound and Baffin Bay, they emerged into 
open water, a little south of the Arctic cir- 
cle, being thus released from an imprison- 
ment of almost nine months, during which 
they helplessly drifted nearly eleven hun- 
dred miles. While in Lancaster Sound, 
the roar of the rolling water and tumbling 
ice exceeded all earthly tumult, and was 
sometimes so loud and stunning as to ren- 
der both voice and hearing useless. 

Once more in open water, and the ves- 
sels being in good order, the gallant com- 
minder determined to renew the search 
for Franklin. Bearing northward, the 
vessels reached Baffin Island, July 11th, 
and entered through vast masses of loose 
ice. By the eighth of August, the expedi- 
tion became completely entangled in floes 
and bergs, and again encountered perils 
of the most alarming kind. The floating 
ice broke in the bulwarks, and covered the 
decks in broken masses ; but against all 
this, the vessels showed themselves proof, 
and, by the nineteenth of August, were safe 
in an open road. Finding, however, the 



north and west alreadj' closed against them 
by the impassable ice, and being warned 
by the fast-waning season, that, to ]iersist 
longer in the trial would be to run the risk 
of spending another winter like the last, 
the commander determined to set sail 
homeward, and the expedition arrived at 
New York, September 30, 1851, without 
the loss of a single man. 

The equal ill success thus far attending 
the English and American efforts to dis- 
cover Franklin's fate, instead of discourag- 
ing, tended rather to stimulate fresh exer- 
tions, and, foremost among the hopeful 
spirits in this country, was Dr. E. K. Kane, 
one of the most intrepid members of the 
American exploring party under DeHaven. 
In the month of December, 1852, there- 
fore, he was commissioned by the United 
States government to conduct an expedi- 
tion to the Arctic seas, in renewed search 
of the lost navigator. The combined lib- 
erality of Mr. Grinnell and Mr. George 
Peabody placed the Advance at Doctor 
Kane's disposal, and the national authori- 
ties ci>opcrated in this final effort in the 
interests of humanity and science. 

On the thirtieth of May, 1853, Doctor 
Kane sailed from New York, in his stout 
little craft, the Advance, a brig of about 
one hundred and fifty tons, and manned 
with picked men, among whom were those 
intrepid spirits, Hayes, Godfrey, McGary, 
Bonsall, Morton, and Goodfellow. His 
plan was to enter Smith Sound at the 
top of Baffin Bay, and thus to reach, if 
possible, the northerly open sea, which 
was supposed to exist, and where he hoped 
to obtain a clue to the missing navigators. 
Great success attended the expedition dur- 
ing the first summer. The party reached 
the headland of Smith Sound as early as 
August 6th, 1863, when further progress 
became difficult on account of the great 
accumulation of ice. The vessel was, how- 
ever, warped through the pack, and the 
expedition finally gained the northern face 
of Greenland, at a point never before 
reached. Here the ice froze around the 
vessel, and compelled them to seek a win- 
ter asylum, in which they experienced a 



536 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



degree of coKl imicli below any previous 
registration. AVliiskey froze in November, 
and for four months in the year the mer- 
cury was solid daily. Of course, the ne- 
cessity of protection against such a temper- 
ature was critical and unceasing. An 
observatory was erected, a thermal regis- 
ter kept hourly, and magnetic observations 
recorded. 

But, with enterprising forecast, Doctor 
Kane sent out parties, — in the conduct of 
which, Messrs. Brooks, Olilsen, Petersen, 
Hickey, and Sontag, were conspicuously 
useful, — to establish provision depots to 
the north, to facilitate researches in the 
s|>ring. Three of these depots were thus 
jiroviiled, the most distant being in lati- 
tude 7'J" 12 '. These operations, however, 




nil; AiiVANci-; and im 



were arrested by darkness, in November, 
and the crew prepared to si)end one hun- 
dred and fortij dni/s without the light of 
the sun ! The thermometer fell to sixtj-- 
seven degrees below zero. Chloroform 
froze, and chloric ether became solid. The 
twenty-second of December brought with 
it the midnight of the year; the fingers 
could not be counted a foot from the eyes. 
The men kept up their spirits like heroes; 
but most of the dogs died of diseases of the 
brain brought on by the depressing influ- 
ences of the (larkiiess. 

In the ensuing spring the search was 
commenced. Doctor l\aiii' luading a party 
in March, along the north coast of Oreen- 
land, which was followed until progress 
became arrested bj^ a stupendous mass of 
ice rising in lofty grandeur to a height of 



five hundred feet abutting into the sea — 
the Great Glacier of Humboldt. Kane's 
description of this grand spectacle speaks 
of it, in substance, as a solid gla.s.sy wall — 
its curved face, sixty miles in length from 
Cape Agassiz to Cape Forbes, vanishing 
into unknown space at not more than a 
single day's railroad travel from the Pole. 
The interior with which it communicated, 
and from which it issued, was an unsur- 
vej-ed ice-ocean, to the eye of boundless 
dimensions. "It was in full sight," con- 
tinues Doctor Kane, " the miyhty crystal 
hndge which connects the two continents 
of America and Greenland; for Greefl- 
land, however insulated it may ultimately 
j)rove to be, is strictly continental. Its 
least possible axis, measured from Cape 
Farewell to the line of this glacier, in the 
neighborhood of the eightieth parallel, 
gives a length of more than twelve hiui- 
(Ired miles, or not materially less than that 
of Au.-.trulia fron) its northern to its south- 
ern cape. Imagine now the center of such 
a continent, occupied through nearly its 
whole extent by a deep unbroken sea of 
ice, that gathers perennial increase from 
the water-shed of vast snow-covered moun- 
tains and all the precipitations of the at- 
mosphere upon its own surface. Imagine 
this, moving on like a great glacial river, 
seeking outlets at every fiord and valley, 
rolling icy cataracts into the Atlantic and 
(ireenlanil seas, and, having at last reached 
the northern limit of land that has borne 
it up, pouring out a mighty frozen torrent 
into unknown Arctic space.'' This ingen- 
ious theory of the Great Glacier is still 
further argued by Doctor Kane, in his 
usual intelligent and enthusiastic manner. 
The glacier in question must be consid- 
ered, until satisfactory proof can be fur- 
nished to the contrary, as the only obstacle 
to the insularity of Greenland, or, in other 
words, the oidy barrier between Greenland 
and the Atl.antic. It appears, however, to 
be an effectual barrier to exploration. But 
in spite of the difficulty of falling bergs. 
Doctor Kane followed this glacier out to 
sea, the party rafting themselves across 
open water spaces upon masses of ice ; in 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



)o/ 



this way they succeeded in traveling 
eighty miles along its base, and traced it 
into a new northern land. 

But the most memorable achievement 
of the expedition was the discovert/ of the 
open polar sea. This great water-course 
embraced an area of three thousand square 
miles entirely free from ice. It washed a 
bold and mountainous coast, which was 
charted as high as latitude 82° 30'. This 
discovery was due to the perseverance of a 
party in charge of William Morton. From 
the high point of observation to which this 
intrepid adventurer attained, not a speck 
of ice could be seen. " There, from a 
height of four hundred and eighty feet, 
which commanded a horizon of almost 
forty miles, his ears were gladdened with 
the novel music of dashing waves ; and a 
surf, breaking in among the rocks at his 
feet, stayed his further progress." Mor- 
ton gave to the cape which arrested his 
progress, the name of Kane, in honor of 
his commander ; but the latter, with char- 
acteristic modesty, changed it to Cape 
Constitution. The land attached to Green- 
land by ice was named Washington ; and 
that to the north and west of the channel 
leading out of Smith Sound, was called 
Grinnell. 

The second winter was one of great suf- 
fering — scurvy attacked the party, and at 
one time every man of the expedition, ex- 
cept Doctor Kane and Mr. Bonsall, was 
laid up by that disease. To aggravate 
their misfortunes, there was a deficiency 
of fuel, and they were even obliged to 
adopt the habits of the Esquimaux, and 
eat raw walrus flesh. To encounter a third 
winter, would, it was thought, involve the 
destruction of the party, and of course in 
no manner advance the search for Frank- 
lin. Ice-riblied and solitary, in that vast 
and cheerless region, Doctor Kane at last 
concluded that the only safety of the party 
lay in an abandonment of the brig and an 
attempt to escape by crossing the southern 
ice on sledges, — a conclusion heartily 
adopted by all the members of the party. 

This was in May, 1855, and the parting 
scene, as narrated by Doctor Kane, was 



one of peculiar solemnity. A brief memo- 
rial of the facts leading to the abandon-' 
ment of the brig, was prepared and read 
by the commander, after which it was fixed 
to a stanchion near the gangwa_y, where it 
would attract the notice of any who might 
come at a future time. They then went 
upon deck ; the flags were hoisted and 
hauled down again; and the party walked 
once or twice around the brig, looking at 
her timbers and exchanging comments 
upon the scars which reminded them of 
every stage of her dismantling. When all 
hands were ready, they scrambled off over 
the ice together, and on reaching the place 
of muster, each man was provided with a 
woolen underdress and an Esquimaux suit 
of fur clothing, with boots made by the 
party themselves — that is, one pair made 
of canvas faced with walrus hide, and 
another inside made of the cabin Brussels 
carjiet. In addition to this, each carried a 
' rue-raddy ' adjusted to fit him comforta- 
bly, a pair of socks next his skin, and a 
pair of large goggles for snow blindness, 
made Esquimaux fashion by cutting a 
small slit in a piece of wood. Some of 
them had gutta percha masks fitting 
closely to the face. Excluding four sick 
men, who were unable to move, and Doc- 
tor Kane, who had to drive the dog-team 
and serve as common carrier and courier, 
they numbered twelve men. The routine 
established consisted of daily prayers both 
morning and evening, all hands gathering 
round in a circle and standing imcovered 
during the short exercise ; regulated 
hours ; fixed duties and positions at the 
track lines and on the halt; the cooking 
to be taken by turns, the captains of the 
boats alone being excused. Doctor Haj-es 
had charge of the log, and Mr. Sontag of 
the running survey. To boatswain Brooks 
was assigned the command of the boats 
and sledges ; the party under him was mar- 
shaled at the rue-raddies as a single gang, 
but the messes were arranged with refer- 
ence to the two whale-boats, and on com- 
ing afterward to the open water the crews 
were distributed in the same way. 

Thus organized, they set out on their 



538 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-18;6. 



lung and perilous march. Tlicy .spent 
their tirst night in an inlet in the ice. 
Sometimes they would sail through creeks 
of water for many hours ; then would fol- 
low d:iys of weary tracking through alter- 
nate ice and water. During a violent 




^^ ^^C^ <^^J^^ 



storm, they dragged the boats u])on a nar- 
row shelf of ice, and found themselves 
within a cave which m^-riads of eider had 
made their breeding ground. They re- 
mained three days in this crystal retreat, 
and gathered three thousand eggs. On 
the eleventh of June, they doubled Cape 
Dudley Digges, and spent a week at Provi- 
dence Halt, luxuriating on a dish composed 
of birds sweeter and juicier than canvas- 
backs, and a salad made of raw eggs and 
cochlearia. The keen relish with which 
the party ate of these unexpected dainties 
may be judged of, when it is considered 
that, in arranging for their fare, before 
starting, provision-liags were made of sail- 
cloth rendered impervious by coats of tar — 
into these the bread was pressed by beat- 
ing it to powder with a capstan-bar; and 
the tallow and pmk fat were melted down 
and poured into other bags to freeze. 

For eighty-four ilays, the party contin- 
ued to travel with their boats and sledges, 
enduring great privations and narrowly 
escaping with their lives, until, on the 
ninth of August, IX.5.5, they reached Uper- 
navik, a north Danish settlement in Green- 
land, liarinij triivr.liil, in the opi'ii air,thh'- 



teen hundred miles I Meanwhile, so great 
was the anxiety felt for the .safety of the 
expedition at home, on account of the long 
period of time that elapsed without any 
tidings of them coming to hand, that the 
United States government dispatched two 
vessels under command of Captain 
Ilartstene, to their relief, in the spring 
of 1855; this expedition j)enetrated 
as far as 78" 32', beyond which prog- 
ress was found impossible. On return- 
ing, they had the good fortune to find 
Doctor Kane and his party on the 
Greenlantl coast, and arrived home 
with them in October. The death of 
two of his men, Haker and Schubert, 
was to Doctor Kane tJie s.iddest fact 
in the history of the expe<lition. 

Although Doctor Kane's expedition 
failed to accomplish its chief jiurpose, 
it was not without important results in 
the interests of geogra)ihical science, as 
related to that mysterious and wonder- 
ful region — the Arctic. These results, as 
eiiunieratcd by Doctor Kane, were, in brief, 
as follows: 

First, the survey and delineation of the 
north coast of Greenland, to its termina- 
tion by a great glacier. Second, the sur- 
vey of this glacial mass, and its extension 
northward into the new land named Wash- 
ington. Third, the discovery of a large 
channel to the north-west, free from ice, 
and leading into an open and expanding 
area equally free. Fourth, the whole em- 
braces an iceless area of four thousand two 
hundred miles. Fifth, the discovery and 
delineation of a large tract of land, form- 
ing the extension northward of the Amer- 
ican continent. Sixth, the comi)leted sur- 
vey of the American coast to the south 
and west as far as Cape Sabine, thus <'on- 
necting the surve}' with the last determined 
position of Captain Inglefield, and complet- 
ing the circuit of the straits and bay here- 
tofore known at their southernmost open- 
ing as Smith Sound. 

To the above gratifying summary of the 
laboriously earned results of the expedi- 
tion, is to be added another honorable item, 
namelv, that it carried the stars and stri/us 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



of the young repuMtc further north than 
any other flmj hail ever been boi-ne. But 
this, together with the other chronicles 
and reminiscences of the expedition are 
related in full by its historian, Doctor 
Kane, — a deeply interesting work, far ex- 
ceeding in thrilling incident the works of 
Defoe and Riley, and possessing like the 
narratives of Wilkes, Featherstonaugh, 
Brackenridge, Marcy, Parker, Hayes, Hall, 
etc., a permanent value. This work, com- 
pleted by Doctor Kane only a short time 
preceding his early and lamented demise, 
is appropriately dedicated '• To Henry 
Grinxell, the Author, and Advocate, and 
Patron of the United States Expedition in 
Search of Sir John Franklin." 

One of the most heroic journeys of ex- 
ploration, undertaken in connection with 
Doctor Kane's great expedition, was that 
headed by Dr. Isaac J. Haj'es, who, with 
eight adventurous companions, were absent 
from the Advance from August to Decem- 
ber, 1854. As related by that accom- 
plishfd traveler and man of science, in his 



them included more than a thousand miles 
of ice and water. For the first eight days, 
the party were occupied in dragging their 
boat — a whale-boat, twenty-four feet long 
and five and a half feet beam — from the 
brig to the open water, a distance of about 
fifteen miles. Having reached the open 
water, they set out upon their dangerous 
navigation. On the second daj^, thej' ran 
into the pack, a dangerous position even 
for full-sized ships ; their only resource 
to drag the boat and its cargo on to the 
largest floe they could find, and wait until 
it was imbedded in a field of ice which 
was likely, for a time at least, to remain 
moderately steady. Whilst entangled in 
the pack, they ajjproached the place where 
Doctor Kane had left an iron life-boat on 
his passage out. Three of the party, of 
whom Doctor Hayes was one, set off across 
the ice to reach the life-boat, and having 
found it in a little cove on a small island, 
passed a most dreary night there. Doctor 
Hayes and one of the men running up and 
down all night long to avoid freezing. 




VIEW OF THE AKi-TIC RElilONS. 



wonderful volume, " An Arctic Boat Jour- 
ney," it appears to have been one of the 
most extraordinary exhibitions of hardi- 
hood and endurance ever recorded. 

Starting with stores calculated to last 
for four or five weeks, the journey before 



And now, barely outliving a terrible storm 
which overtook them, they reached a point 
about sixteen miles south of Cape Parry, 
and probably more than two hundred 
south of Rensselaer Harbor, where were 
Doctor Kane and the brig. Difficulties 



540 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



beset them jt every step. For e.xaniple, on 
one occasion, wliilst the rest of tlie p.irty 
were sleeping, one of them was deputed to 
cook in a small tent erected for the purj)<)se. 
The cooking apparatus consisted of a lamp 
over which a kettle was boiled. The party 
had tasted nothing for eighteen hours, and 
it took no less than six more to prepare a 
stew of fox and sea-gull, for the lamp was 
constantly blown out just as the pot was 
beginning to boil, and before it coidd be 
relighted — which operation with damp fin- 
der and a flint and steel once occupied half 
an hour — the stew was frozen over. 

The prospects of Doctor Hayes's party, 
when their hopes of getting further south 
were finally abandoned, were excessively 
gloomy. They hud the winter before them, 
and their provisions and fuel were barely 
sufficient for two weeks; whilst the fuel, 
though capable of cooking their food and 
melting the ice for water, was not suffi- 
cient to warm the men themselves. Their 
first necessity was to provide themselves 
with some sort of shelter, and the only one 
which they could {)rocure was a kind of 
hut, of which two rocks formed two sides, 
and the other sides were made of walls of 
stones, the crevices being stuffed with 
moss and sand, both of which had to be 
obtained from under the snow, by shovel- 
ing with a tin dinrn'r-jilate. It was the 
work of some weeks. Hut there was now 
only a scanty allowance of food, and the 
party grew thin and weak. They suc- 
ceeded in tra])ping two or three foxes, and 
they were obliged to eke out their small 
stock of provisions by eating rock lichen. 
The oidy additional resource which the 
party had to look to was that of occasionally 
obtaining provisions from the Esquimaux 
who casually visited them, and sometimes 
sold them bnn])s of walrus meat, or sea- 
fowls, in return for pieces of wood. By 
degrees, however, the savages came to nn- 
derstaiul their true position. They saw that 
the white men were starving, and that upon 
their death tlwir property would be left be- 
hind them without the necessity for any 
purchase. They, tlicrefore, refused to sell 
any dogs, or to undertake, though pressed 



to do so, to convey the party in dog-sledges 
either to Doctor Kane or to Upernavik. 

This state of things at last became un- 
bearable, and Doctor Hayes, with charac- 
teristic courage, determined on a desperate 
effort to save the lives of himself and his 
companions. Having with great difficulty 
procured some dogs and contrived a sledge, 
they set out, but after a journey of a few 
miles, most of them were so exhausted, 
that they could progress no farther. On 
returning, two of the party, after a short 
rest, set out again, and reached the vessel 
in safet}'. The remainder staid behind, 
in hopes of their return, but soon after a 
large party of Esquimaux with several 
sledges and teams of dogs canu' to visit 
them, and again refused either to sell or to 
lend the means of conveyance. 

The opportunity which this visit offered 
could not, however, be neglected. They 
were coaxed into good humor by jokes and 
presents, and a pot of soup was prejjared 
for them, into which Doctor Hayes eni]>- 
tied a vial of laudanum. ^Vhilst they 
were asleep, the party went out, loaded 
the sledges, harnessed the dogs, and set 
off at full gallop towards the brig! 

The dogs, however, being but little better 
than wolves, were very wild and extremely 
restive, so that one team fairly broke loose, 
and carried the sledge back to the hut. 
'I'iie others, however, passed over a consid- 
erable part of the journey towards the brig 
before the Escpiimaux recovered from the 
effects of the laudanum and pursued them. 

At last, howi'ver, they were over'akeii ! 
Thereupon, relying on their guns, and on 
the influence which their moral and intel- 
lectual power confers upon civilize<l men. 
Doctor Hayes and his party declared that 
they must and would return to the brig, 
and that the Esquimaux must take them. 
Ultimately they succeeded; and, after a 
frightful journey, during which they trav- 
eled one hundred and iifty miles in forty 
hours in a temperature of forty-eight de- 
grees below zero, they reached the brig in 
safety. The Esquinuiu.x were well re- 
warded for their services, and went back 
in high spirits. 



LXIII. 

BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND, THE 
"SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE."— 1850. 



Tliis Queen of Song Comes under the Auspices of Mr. Barnuni. — Twenty Thousand Persons Welcome 
Her Arrival.— Transcendent Beauty and Power of Her Voice. — A Wliole Continent Enraptured With 
Her Enclianting Melodies. — Pleasant Exiiilaration of Feeling Througliout tlie Land by the Presence 
of tlie Fair Nightingale. — Honors from Webster, Clay, and Otlier Dignitaries. — Her Praises Fill the 
Wide World. — The Vocal Prodigy of the Age. — In Opera, " The Daughter of the Regiment." — Bar- 
num's Happy Conception. — Proposes to Her this American Tour. — His Generous Terms Accepted. — 
She Reaches New York. — Sunny and Joyous Outburst. — A Real " Jenny Lind " Kra — First Concert at 
Castle Garden — Tempest of Acclamation. — Encores, Showers of Bouquets. — Public Expectation 
E.xceeded — Jenny's Complete Triumph. — All the Receipts Given to Charity. — Equal Enthusiasm 
Everywhere — Beautiful Incidents. — She is a Guest at the While House. — Henrj' Clay at Her Con- 
cert. — Webster and the Nightingale. — A Scene "Not Down on the Bills." — Ninety-Five Concerts 
Yield $700,000. 




" So soft, so clear, yet in eo sweet a note, 
It seemed the music melted in her spirit." 



EALOUSLY watcliing, witli a practiced profes.sional eye, every opportu- 
nity to cater to the ever-var^'ing tastes of a pleasure-loving public, Mr. 
liarnum, the "prince of showmen," conceived the felicitous idea of 
inviting the renowned Swedish songstress, Jenny Lind, whose praise 
filled the wide world as that of a very divinity, to enter into an engage- 
ment witli liim to visit the United States, on a prolonged mu.sii-al tour, 
under his managing auspices; and this enterjirising design, the accom- 
plished showman in due time brought successfully about, — its consum- 
mation forming one of the most brilliant, joyous and exhilarating 
episodes, viewed from whatever aspect, in the experience of the American nation, — an 
outburst of sunny excitement and delight, all over the land, at the presence of that tran- 
scendent musical genius, that wonderful vocal prodigy, of modern times. 

But before proceeding to the details of this splendid and triumphant tour, some 
account of the distinguished songstress, in respect to her fascinating personal history, 
and previous public career, will be in place, — derived and condensed from authentic 
sources, — presenting, as it does, sucli peculiar points of interest. 

The "Swedish nightingale" — the "divine Jenny," — as she came to be called, as her 
powers of song were developed, was born at Stockholm, in 1821, and her taste for music 
was indicated while yet in her third year. At nine or ten, her parents, who were in 
reduced circumstances, suffered Iter to go upon the stage, where her success in juvenile 
characters was astonishing. But when site had reached her twelfth year, after receiving 



542 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



instruction from some of the first music 
masters, she lost her voice. Loving music 
for its own sake, the '■nightingale" was 
bitterlv afflicted at this calaniitv, the more 
especially as her voice had become a source 
of comfortable existence. At sixteen, 
however, it returned, to her infinite joy, 
under the following peculiar circumstances. 

At a concert, in which the fourth act of 
Mi'3'erbeer's Robert le Dinhle had been 
announced, it was suddenly discovered that 
a singer to take the part of Alice was 
wanting. A short solo being all that 
Alice has to sing in this act, none of the 
professionals were found desirous of under- 
taking the chariicter. So trifling a part, 
her teacher thought, would not be marred, 
even b}' Jenny Lind, and accordingly she 
was intrusted with the execution of the 
insignificant solo. As, from the most arid 
spot in the desert, water, sparkling and 
fresh, will sometimes gush forth, so broke 
out, on this occasion, the rich fountain of 
song which had so long been latent in the 
humble and hitherto silent nightingale. 
Her voice returned with all its pristine 
sweetness, and with more than its early 
power, and the most overwhelming aj>- 
plause followed the unexpected discoverj' 
of this mine of melody. 

All doubt as to her lyrical excellence 
was now gone, and towards the winter of 

1838, she made her first appearance on the 
stage as a singer, in the character of 
Agatha, in J>er Frieschutz. Her exipiisite 
singing, ami her acting, abounding in 
point and originality, created a deep sen- 
sation ; and slie wi>n new laurels by her 
representation of Alice, in the spring of 

1839, and full}' established her fame by 
her subsequent performance of Lucia, in 
Luna di Lammermoor. She afterwards 
visited Paris, to receive lessons from 
Garcia, the father and instructor of the 
ill-fated Madame ]\Ialibran, — a vocalist 
who, like Jenny Lind, carried with her the 
hearts of her auditory. The reception 
which that eminent composer gave her 
was, at first, rather discouraging. After 
hearing her sing, he said — 

" My dear young lady, you have no 



voice ; you have had a voice, and will lose 
it ; you Lave been singing too early or too 
much, and vour voice is worn to ruin. I 
cannot instruct you — I cannot give j-ou 
any hope at present. Sing not a note for 
three months, and then see me again." 

This counsel she followed, and when 
she re-appeared before Garcia, he thought 
there was some hope of her, and gave her 
the instructions which she coveted; but it 
is remarkable that Garcia should never 
have had sufficient jjenetration to di.scover 
her innate genius. Soon after this, she 
nia<le the acijuaintance of Meyerbeer, 
wliose discrimination was more searching. 
A rehearsal was given, with a full orches- 
tra, at the grand opera, where the jier- 
formance of Jenny Lind so gratified the 
composer, that he at once offered her an 
engagement at Berlin. 

At the close of 1842, she returned to 
Stockholm, where her popularity contin- 
ued to increase. Her fame, however, 
extending beyond the limits of Sweden, 
she was induced to make a professional 
visit to Germany, where public opinion 
confirmed that high estimate of her abili- 
ties which had been sanctioned at home. 

But it was in England, that her success 
first touched the marvelous and sublime; 
and there it was, that the tribute ajipro- 
priated by Shakespeare to one of his beau- 
tiful creations — " She si7igs likeone immor- 
tiif" — bei'ame fact, apjOied to the Swedish 
nightingale. Her Majesty's theat<'r was 
the first arena of her trinni]ihs in J^ngland, 
Queen Victoria, by her jiresence on the 
opening night, offering her a flattering 
and graceful tribute. On the evening of 
Jlay fifth, she made her first essay before 
an Eiigli.--h audience, in the character of 
Alice. The uproar excited by her appear- 
ance on this occasion was tremendous. 
The whole crowded mass displayed an 
astounding power of lungs, and hats and 
handkerchiefs waved from all parts. I'eo- 
ple came prepared to admire, but they 
admired beyond the extent of their jirep- 
aration. The delicious quality of the per- 
formance — the rich, gushing notes, were 
something entirely new ami fresh. The 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



543 



auditors did not know what to make of it. 
They had heard singers over and over 
again ; hut there — that wondrous thing ! 
— a new sensation was actually created. 
The sustained notes swelling with full 
richness, and fading down to the softest 
piano, without losing one iota of their 
quality, being delicious when loud, deli- 
cious when whispered, which dwelt in the 
public ear and reposed in the public heart, 
— these were the wonder-exciting phenom- 
ena. The impression made as an actress 
was no less profound ; and even in Vienna, 
the most exacting critics applauded her 
performance of The Daughter of the Reg- 
iment, in Donnizetti's renowned opera, 
as they also did in other cities. 




On returning to Stockholm, in 1848, 
she entered into an engagement with the 
royal opera, to give a series of concerts. 
On the evening of her first performance, 
the newspapers of the city published a 
note signed by the renowned cantatrice, in 
which she stated that, in order to give her 
native country a souvenir that might last 
beyond her existence as an artist, she had 
determined on devoting the whole profits 
of her performance to the establishment of 
a school for poor young persons of both 
sexes, born with happy dispositions, in 
which they should be gratuitously^ taught 



music and the dramatic art. This gener- 
osity excited to the wildest pitch, the 
public enthusiasm, and on the time arriv- 
ing for the sale of tickets for the next day, 
the place was densely crowded. This 
state of things continued to increase, until 
about eleven o'clock, when the multitude 
was such that the police interfered, and 
made the people form en queue. This was 
accomplished quietly enough ; but a little 
after midnight a compact mass of people 
suddenly made an irruption from the 
neighboring streets, rushed on the said 
queue, broke it, and besieged the theater. 
The first crowd now returned, attacked 
their aggressors, and in a few minutes a 
desperate fist and foot combat ensued. 
The police proved una- 
vailing, and several de- 
tachments of infantry 
arrived ; these also were 
formidably opposed, and 
only with great trouble 
did they succeed in keep- 
ing order. Tickets were 
paid for as high as one 
hundred dollars. And 
thus it was, indeed, in all 
the cities where the great 
nelodLst held forth in 
her discourse of .song, — 
the favor shown her in- 
creasing and accumulat- 
ing with her progress 
from place to place. 
And, certainly, all this 
success and fame was as 
much a matter of surprise to herself as to 
anybody else ; for, even in 1845, remarking 
on her intended performance in Copenha- 
gen, at which city she had just arrived, she 
said, with characteristic modesty — 

" I have never made my appearance out 
of Sweden. Everybody in mj' own land is 
so affectionate and loving to me. If I 
made my appearance here, and should be 
hissed ! I dare not venture on it." 

But the persuasions of Boumonville, the 
ballet-master, eventually prevailed, and 
gained for the Copenhageners the greatest 
enjoyment they ever had. At one concert 



544 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



she sang lier Swedish songs. They were 
so peculiar and so bewitching, that, uttered 
by sudi a purely feminine being, their 
sway was absolutely enrapturing. Her 
singing was a new revelation in the realm 
of art. The fresh young voice found its 
way into every heart. In her truth and 
nature reigned; evcr^'thing was full of 
meaning and intelligence. She was tlie 
first arti.st to whom the Danish students 
gave a serenade. Torches blazed around 
the villa, when the serenade was given, 
and she appeared and expressed her thanks 
by singing one of her native .songs ; after 
wliirli, she was observed to hasten back 
into the darkest corner of the room and 
weep for emotion. 

In the history of the ojiera, her advent 
marked a new and striking epoch. Siie 
showed the art in all its sanctity. Miss 
Jircmer, writing to Hans Andersen, said: 
" We are both of us agreed as to Jenn^' 
Lind as a singer. She stands as high as 
any artist of our time well can stand. But 
as j'et you do not know lier in her real 
greatness. Speak to her of her art, and 
Villi will wonder at the expansion of her 
mind. Her countenance is lighted with 
inspiration. Converse with her upon God, 
and of the holiness of religion, tears will 
spring from those innocent ej'es. She is 
a great artist, but she is still greater in 
till' pure humanity of her existence." 
Indeeil, acronling to Andersen himself, 
who was familiar with the in-door life of 
the winsome Swede, nothing could lessen 
the impression made by Jenny Lind's 
greatness on the stage, save lier personal 
character in her own home. Her intelli- 
gent and child-like disposition exercised 
th(?re a singular power; and there she was 
]iapi)y, belonging no longer to the world. 
Yet she loved art with her whole soul. 
She felt her vocation. Her noble and 
pious disposition could not be spoiled by 
homage. On one occasion only, says 
Andersen, did she express, in his hearing, 
her joy and sclfi'onsciousness in her talent, 
and this occurred as follows; She heard of 
a society, tlie object of which was to 
encourage the rescue of unfortunate chil- 



dren from the liands of their parents, by 
whom they were compelled to beg or steal, 
and place them in better circumstances. 
Benevolent people subscribed annually for 
their support, yet the means for this 
excellent purpose were but small. " I 
have an evening disengaged," said Jenny 
Lind ; " I will give a performance for these 
poor children, but we must have double 
prices." Such a performance was given, 
and returned large proceeds. AVhen she 
heard the amount, lier countenance lit up, 
and tears filled her e^'es. "It is, however, 
beautiful," said she, "that I can sing so." 

Having performed in almost all the 
principal cities and towns in Europe, to 
vast crowds who were almost frantic in 
their demonstrations of delight, as well as 
in the presence of almost every crowned 
head on the continent, winning their 
admiring homage, and gaining a fame wide 
as the world and as bright and pure as the 
stars, Jenny Lind's inclination appeared to 
be to retire, at least for a while, on the 
conclusion of her engagement in England, 
to the tranquillity of home life. 

It was at this point in her wonderful 
career, that Mr. Barnuni. through his sj>e- 
cially commissioned agent, proposed the 
most liberal and honorable terms to Jenny 
Lind, to give a series of concerts in the 
United States. The projiosals made by 
Mr. Bariium were so generous, and char- 
iR'terized bv sui-h delicate and gentlemanly 
consideration, in every res]ieit, that, not- 
withstanding several parties were likewi.se 
attempting, at the same time, to negotiate 
with her for an American tour, she unhes- 
itatingly decided to treat with Mr. Bar- 
nuni, who was, on his own bidding, to 
assume all the responsibility, and take the 
entire management and chances of the 
result upon himself. The manner in 
which that sagacious and accomplished 
gentloman carried on an enterprise of such 
vast magnitude, — nearly oni' hundred con- 
certs, in all parts of the land, from Boston 
to Louisiana, and involving more than 
Sfven /luiulred thniisaini dollars in total 
receipts, — was a monument alike to liis 
genius and to his sujierlative executive 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



545 



abilities ; — a statement, the truth of which 
■will be found abundantly confirmed in the 
history of this enterprise, as written by 
Mr. Barnum himself, and from which 
some of the facts and incidents given below 
are collated. 

On Wednesday morning, August twent}'- 
first, 1850, Jenny Lind and her two pro- 
fessional companions, Messrs. Benedict 
and Belletti, sailed from Liverpool in the 
steamer Atlantic. It was expected that 
the steamer would arrive on Sunday, Sep- 
tember first, but, determined to meet the 
songstress on her arrival, whenever it 
might be, Mr. Barnum went to Staten 
Island on Saturday night, to be in readi- 
ness to greet the fair stranger. A few 
minutes before twelve o'clock on Sunday 
morning, the Atlantic hove in sight, and, 
immediately afterwards, Mr. Barnum was 
on board the ship, and had taken Jenny 
Lind by the hand. After a few moments' 
conversation, she asked him — 

" When and where have you heard me 
sing ? " 

" I never had the pleasure of seeing you 
before in my life," replied Mr. Barnum. 

" How is it possible that you dared risk 
so much money on a person whom you 
never heard sing ? " she asked in surprise. 

" I risked it," answered Mr. Barnum, 
" on your reputation, which in musical 
matters I would much rather trust than 
my own judgment." 

Thousands of persons covered the ship- 
ping and piers, and other thousands con- 
gregated on the wharf, to see her, the 
wildest enthusiasm prevailing as the noble 
steamer approached the dock. So great 
was the rush on a sloop near the steamer's 
berth, that one man, in his zeal to obtain 
a good view, accidentally tumbled over- 
hoard amid the shouts of those near him. 
Jenny witnessed this incident, and was 
much alarmed. He was, however, soon 
rescued. A superb bower of green trees, 
decorated with beautiful flags, was ar- 
ranged u]ion the wharf, together with two 
triumphal arches ; upon one of the latter, 
was inscribed, " Welcome, Jenny Lind ! " 
and the other, surmounted by the Ameri- 
35 



can eagle, bore the inscription, " Welcome 
to America ! " Jenny Lind was escorted 
to Mr. Barnum's private carriage at once, 
by Captain West. The rest of the musi- 
cal party entered the carriage, and, mount- 
ing the box at the driver's side, Mr. 
Barnum directed him to the Irving House. 
As a few of the citizens had probably seen 
Mr. Barnimi before, his presence on the 
outside of the carriage aided those who 
filled the windows and sidewalks along the 
whole route in coming to the conclusion 
t\\a,t Je7ini/ Lind had arrived; and a ref- 
erence to the joui-nals of that day will 
show, that seldom before had there been 
such enthusiasm in the city of New York, 
or indeed in America. 




Within ten minutes after their arrival 
at the Irving House, not less than ten 
thousand jjersons had congregated around 
the entrance in Broadway. At twelve 
o'clock that night, she was serenaded by 
the New York Musical Fund Society, 
numbering on that occasion two hundred 
musicians. They were escorted to the 
Irving House by about three hundred 
firemen in their red shirts, bearing torches. 
At least twenty thousand persons were 
present. The calls for Jenny Lind were 
so vehement, that Mr. Barnum led her 
through a window to the balcony ; and 
now, the loud cheers from the throng lasted 
several minutes, before the serenade was 
permitted again to proceed. 

For weeks afterwards, the excitement 
was unabated. Her rooms were thronged 



546 



OUK FIRST CENTUKV.— 1776-1S76. 



by visitors, including the magnates of tlie 
land, both in ehuroh and state, and the 
carriages of the beau monde were to be 
seen in front of her hotel, at all fashiona- 
ble hours. Presents of all sorts were 
showered upon her. Milliners, niantua- 
niakers, and shopkeepers, vied with each 
other in calling her attention to their 
wares, of which they sent her many valua- 
ble specimens, delighted if in return the}' 
could receive her autograph in acknowl- 
edgment. Songs, i]uadrillcs, and polkas, 
were dedicated to her, and poets wrote in 
her praise. There were Jenny Lind 
gloves, Jenny Lind bonnets, Jenny Lind 
riding hats, Jenny Lind shawls, mantillas, 
robes, chairs, sofas, pianos — in fact, everj'- 
tliing was "Jenny Lind." Her move- 
ments were constantly watched, and the 
moment her carriage appeared at the door, 
it was surrounded by multitudes, eager to 
catch a glimpse of the fair •' nightingale." 

Jenny Lind's first concert was fixed to 
come off at Castle Garden, Wednesday 
evening, September eleventh, and most of 
the tickets were sold at auction on the 
previous Saturday' and Monday. Genin, 
the hatter, purchased the first ticket at 
two hundred and twenty-five dollars. The 
arrangements of the concert room were 
very complete. The great parterre and 
gallery of Castle Garden were divided by 
imaginary lines into four compartments, 
each of which was designated by a lamp of 
a peculiar color. The tickets were printed 
in colors corresponding with the location 
which the holders were to occupy, and 
there were one hundred ushers, with 
rosettes, and bearing wands tipped with 
ribbons of the same hue ; and, though five 
thousand persons were present, their en- 
trance was marked by the most perfect 
order and <]uiot. 

The reception of Jenny Lind on tliis 
her first appearance, in point of enthusi- 
asm, was prnb.ibly never before equ.aled in 
the world. As Mr. Benedict led her 
towards the foot-lights, the entire audience 
rose to their feet and welcomed her with 
three cheers, accompanied by the waving 
of thousands of hats and handkerchiefs. 



and the casting of bouquets before her. 
This was by far the largest audience that 
Jenny had ever sung in the presence 
of. She was evidently much agitated, but 
the orchestra commenced, and liefore she 
had sung a dozen notes of " Casta Diva," 
she began to recover her self-possession, 
and long before the scene was concluded, 
she was calm as if sitting in her own 
drawing-room. Towards the last portion 
of the cavatina, the audience were so com- 
pletely carried away by their feelings, 
that the remainder of the air was drowned 
in a perfect tempest of acclamation. En- 
thusiasm had been wrought to its highest 
pitch, but the musical powers of Jenny 
Lind exceeded all the brilliant anticipa- 
tions which had been formed, and her tri- 
umph was complete. At the conclusion 
of the concert, Jenny Lind was loudly 
called for, and was obliged to appear three 
times before the audience could be satis- 
fied. They then called vociferously for 
" Barnum," who reluctantly responded to 
thei;- demands; and, on his concluding by 
saying that the whole proceeds of the con- 
cert were to go to charitable objects, it 
seemed as though the audience would go 
frantic with applause. 

From Xew York, Jenny Lind went to 
Boston, Providence, Philadelphia, Balti- 
more, Washington, — to all the chief cities 
in the L-^nion, east, west, north, and south; 
vast audiences everywhere awaiting her, 
— municipal, musical, and other deputii- 
tions, tendering their honors, — and, during 
every performance, there was a constant 
succession of hurrahs, encores, and other 
demonstrations of intense delight. In 
Boston, the highest price paid for a ticket 
was six hundred and twenty-five dollars, 
by (Issian E. Dodge ; in Providence, six 
luuidrcd and fifty dollars, by ('ol. AVilliain 
C. lioss; in Philadelphia, six hundred and 
twenty-five dollars, by M. A. Root; in 
New Orleans, two hundred and forty dol- 
lars, by Mr. D'Arcy ; in St. Louis, one 
hundred and fifty dollars, by the keeper 
of a refreshment saloon; in Baltimore, 
one hundred dollars, bj' a daguerreotypist. 

It was in one of the l>eautiful environs 



GEEAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



547 




took 



ioston, that Jenny 
her first out-door 
walk in America. Her love for the 
charms of nature was alwa^-s intense, as 
the following incident which occurred on 
another occasion, as related by a stage- 
driver, will show. A bird of brilliant 
plumage perched itself on a tree near, as 
they drove slowly along, and trilled out 
such a complication of sweet notes as per- 
fectly astonished her. The coach stopped, 
and, reaching out, Jenny gave one of her 
finest roulades. The beautiful creature 
arched his head on one side, and listened 
deferentially ; then, as if determined to 
excel his famous rival, raised his graceful 
throat and sang a song of rippling melody 
that made Jenny rapturously clap her 
hands in ecstasy, and quickly, as though 
she were before a severely critical audience, 
delivered some Tyrolean mountain strains, 
that set the echoes flying; whereupon 
little birdie took it up, and sang and 
trilled and sang, till Jenny, in happy 
delight, acknowledged that the pretty 
woodland warbler decidedly outcaroled the 
" iSwedish nightingale." 
Jenny Lind's generosity was unbounded. 



To say nothing ot her 
numerous heavj bene- 
factions to societies and individuals, — 
amounting to some fifty thousand dol- 
lars, during her brief stay in America, — 
here is an illustration of her sweet tender- 
ness. One night, while giving concerts in 
Boston, a girl approached the ticket-ofBce, 
and laj'ing down three dollars for a ticket, 
remarked, "There goes half a month's 
earnings, but I am determined to hear 
Jenny Lind sing." Her secretary heard 
the remark, and in a few minutes after- 
wards, coming into Jenny's room, he 
laughingly related to her the circumstance. 
" Would you know the girl again ? " asked 
Jenny, with an earnest look. Upon re- 
ceiving an affirmative reply, she placed a 
twenty-dollar gold coin in his hand, and 
said, "Poor r/irl / (/ire her t/iat, with mi/ 
best conrpliments." 

While in the same city, a poor Swedish 
girl, a domestic in a family at Roxbur3', 
called on Jenny. Jenny detained her vis- 
itor several hours, talking about "home" 
and other matters, and in the evening 
took her in her carriage to the concert, 
gave her a seat, and sent her back to Rox- 



548 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



bury in a carriage at the close of the per- 
formance. Doubtless the poor girl carried 
with her substantial evidences of her 
countrywoman's bounty. 

On the morning after her arrival at 
AVashington, President Fillmore called, 
and left his card, Jenny being out. She 
returned his call the next day, and 
subsequently, b^' presidential request, 
passed an evening at the Wiiitc House, 
in tlie private circle of the president's 
family. 

Bdtli concerts in Washington were 
attended by the president and his familj', 
and every member of the cabinet. It haj>- 
pened that, on the day of one of these 
concerts, several members of the cabinet 
and senate were dining with Mr. Bodisco, 
the Russian minister, whose good dinner 
and choice wines had kept the part}' so 
late that the concert had progressed quite 
far when Webster, Crittenden, and others, 
came in. Whether from the hurry in 
which they came, or from the heat of the 
room, their faces were a little flushed, and 
they all looked somewhat flurried. After 
the applause with which tliese dignitaries 
were received had subsided, and silence 
was once more restored, the second part of 
the concert was opened by Jenny Lind, 
with " Hail Columbia." At the close of 
the first verse, Webster's patriotism boiled 
over. He could stand it no longer, and 
rising like Olympian Jove, he added his 
deep, sonorous, bass voice to the chorus. 
Mrs. Webster, who sat immediately be- 
hind him, kept tugging at his coat-tail to 
make him sit down or stop singing; but it 
was of no earthly use. At the close of 
each verse, Webster joined in; and it was 
hard to say whether Jenny Lind, Webster, 
or the audience was the most delighted. 
At the close of the air, Mr. Webster arose, 
hat in hand, and made her such a bow as 
Chesterfield would have deemed a fortune 
for his son, and which eclipsed D'Orsay's 
best. Jenny Lind. sweetly blusiiing at 
the distinguished Imnur, courtesied to the 
floor; the audience a]pplauded to the very 
eclid. Webster, determined not to be out- 
done in politeness, bowed again ; Jenny 



Lind re-curtesied, the house re-applauded ; 
and this was repeated several times. 

And so, in the case of Mr. Clay. 
Scarcely had the overture been half played 
through, than a murmur was heard from 
the end of the building. It was hushed 
instantly, and the overture was played to 
its close. And now burst out a long and 
loud shout of ap](lausc. For a moment, 
Benedict, the conductor, looked around, 
somewhat astonished. He, however, saw 
immediately that this applause had not 
been called forth by the orchestra. The 
tall, slim, thin figure of an aged man — 
with a grayish blue eye, vivid and spark- 
ling, and a capacious, broad mouth — was 
slowly advancing up the room. It was 
Hp.id-ij Clay. As he moved on, the shouts 
and applause redoubled. He, bowing on 
every side, continued his path feebly, and 
somewhat cautiously. At length he 
reached his seat, and the applause ceased 
for a moment. Then a voice at the up[)er 
end of the hall cried out, " Three cheers 
for Harry Clay ! " The building almost 
rocked with the vehemence of the re- 
sponse. 

While in Washington, Jenny Lind was 
called on by hosts of the eminent men of 
the land, including Mr. Webster, Mr. 
Clay, General Cass, and Colonel Benton. 
And, indeed, wherever she went, from one 
end of the country to the other, the same 
scene presented itself, of distinguished 
honors to this Divinity of Song, — admiring 
and enthusiastic communities turning out 
to welcome, — and crowded audiences rap- 
turous under the overpowering enchant- 
ment of her voice. Jenny Lind's net 
avails of the ninety-five concerts given by 
her under Mr. Barnum's auspices, in the 
short sp.ace of eight months, were little 
short of $il77,00(», or nearly double the 
amount, per concert, named in their origi- 
nal cqntract. Subsequently, she gave a 
few concerts on her own account. In 
February, 1852, she was married, in 
Boston, to Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, a young 
German composer and pianist, who had 
studied music with her in that country, 
and who played several times in her Anier- 



GEEAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 



549 



icaii concerts. Shortly after her marriage, 
they left for Europe. Her professional 
tour in America was far more brilliant and 
successful than that of any other performer, 
male or female, musical, theatrical, or 
operatic, who ever appeared before an 
American audience. The names of Kem- 
ble, Malibran, Celeste, Ellsler, Tree, Kean, 
Garcia, Ole Bull, Paganini, Rossini, Julien, 
Ristori, Rachel, Parepa, Alboni, Dean, 
Phillips, Kellogg, Sontag, Wood, Gotts- 
chalk, etc., etc., all jjale before that of the 
fair Swede. 

Describing Jenny Lind's voice scientific- 
ally, it should be spoken of as a soprano, 
embracing a register of two and a half 
octaves. Clear and powerful, susceptible 
of the greatest variety of intonation, it 
met all the demands of the composer with 
the greatest facility to its possessor. No 
diiSculties appalled her ; a perfect musi- 



cian, she suffered herself to revel in all the 
roulades of which the time and occasion 
admitted. Her upper notes filled the 
vastest area with an effect to which noth- 
ing but the striking of a fine-toned bell 
could be compared, while her most gentle 
and subdued joassages were audible at the 
greatest distances. In a word, there was 
a rare combination of qualities which 
raised her above all other singers ever 
heard. Her voice — sweet, powerful, mel- 
low, resonant, faultless in tone, and full of 
sympathetic emotion; her execution- — 
ready and facile ; her manner — earnest not 
only in the expression of every word, but in 
her looks, her air, her abstraction from ev- 
ery surrounding object ; — to have seen and 
heard this, even once, was, in the language 
of one who had been thus favored, " a treat 
to last until we go to heaven, where, and 
where alone, such music can be heard." 



LXIV. 

REIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN CALI- 
FORNIA.— 1851. 



Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Regular Authori- 
ties — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent. — The Committee's Secret Chamber of 
Judgment. — Sudden Seizure and Trial of Note<l Criminals. — Solemn Tolling of the Signal Bell. — 
Swift and Terrible Kxecutions. — Renovation of Society. — Swarming of Desperate Felons. — Kngland's 
Penal Colonies Emptied. — Organized Society of "Hounds." — A Band of Cutthroats — Society at 
Their Mercy. — Harvests Reaped by Them — Corrupt Courts and Officers — The Vigilance Commit- 
tee Formed. — Prompt, Resolute, Powerful. — The Criminals Taken Unawares. — Instant Summons to 
Death. — A Gallows at Midnight. — Extraordinary Horrors. — Confessions by the Victims. — Astound- 
ing Revelations — Magistrates Implicated. — Warnings by the Committee — A Double Execution. — 
Thousands of Spectators. — Wild Shouts of Approval. — The Lawless Classes Terrified. — The Results 
of the Movement. 



. . _ . --.--„-. ^ . n. baUot-box ituffbr, or othrr liisturbffr of the I»*«c<'. BhuII nrane punUh- 

cithcr bf the ituibble^of tho law. the m*eciirity of prUon*. the carelc»«aeft.i or corruptloD of itie police, or a laxity o( thoee who pretend 
aioister justice."— Addubbs ok tiik Vk.ila'ncl Couuittkl. 



" We tre determined that no thief, burglar, incendiary, 
ment ci" ■— ■-.■ -..._..- - . 

to ad mi 




DorilLF EXIXI'TION rs 



IGILANCE committees, and "Ij-ncli law," are terms of similar and famil- 
iar meaning, in the American vocabulary. But nowhere else 
witliiii tho borders of the <;rcat rciniblie has the operation of tliis 
suniiuarv method of dealing with offenders who would otherwise 
go " unwhipped of justice," been so resolute, so frequent, and so 
effective, a.s in California. Nor, perhaps, has it ever hieen more 
excusable, as an extreme public necessity. Such was the 
ttled condition of society in that remote territory, 
the earlier years of its mining history, so multi- 
uid daring the crimes against life and property, 
nefficient as well as glaringlj' corrupt, the courts 
judges, that, for a time, robbery, murder, arson, and 
ice were completely in the ascendant, so that every 
man not actually' in league with the perpetrators 
of these outrages, was jiut on the defensive. — car- 
ying his weapons b3- day, and sleeping on them 
at night. BoKl ami tlefiant in their successful 
career of crime, numbers of these outlaws 
I'cirmed themselves into a mutual organiza- 
tion, witli regular head-quarters, and assuim-d 
the name of " /loundn." They swarmed the 
city and the country, and, in their skilled arts 
of villainy, as thii-ves. pickpockets, gamblers, 
incendiaries, and as.-iassins, numbered tlieir 
victims by hundreds. In addition to this. 




GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



551 



large numbers of felons found their way 
to California, from the convict islands of 
Van Dieman's Land and New South 
Wales, and there, under the existing lax- 
ity of law and audacity of crime, reajied a 
rich harvest. 

Such, then, was the condition of affairs 
throughout the state, when, goaded and 
outraged beyond endurance, the well-dis- 
posed citizens determined to become a law 
unto themselves, and to administer that 
law in the interests of justice and self-pro- 
tection, with promi^tness and decision. Ex- 
amples were not long wanting for the exe- 
cution of their purpose ; and, in pursuance 
of the same end, the citizens of San Fran- 
cisco soon found their wrongs being re- 
dressed by a powerful voluntary organiza- 
tion of the most influential men in the city, 
styled the Vigilance Committee, who, in 
the constitution of their association, de- 
clared that they thus united themselves 
together, " to preserve the lives and prop- 
erty of the citizens of San Francisco, — 
binding themselves, each unto the other, 
to do and perform every lawful act for the 
maintenance of law and order, and to sus- 
tain the laws when faithfully' and properly 
administered, — but detevmuied that no 
thief, burglar, incendlanj, or assassin, es- 
cape punishment, either by the quibbles of 
the laiv, the insecurity of prisons, the care- 
lessness or corruption of the police, or a 
laxity on the part of those pretending to 
adm inister justice." 

The first, and one of the most exciting 
of the cases growing out of this extraor- 
dinary organization, occurred in San Fran- 
ci.sco, in June, 1851, when a Sidney con- 
vict was caught in the act of carrying 
away a small safe which he had stolen. 
The man, a desperate character, was seized 
by some members of the vigilance commit- 
tee, who conducted him forthwith to their 
head-quarters, where he was tried in the 
presence of about eighty members of the 
association sitting with closed doors, by 
them conNHcted, and sentenced to be hung 
in Portsmouth Square, that night. Dur- 
ing the progress of the trial, the citizens 
had assembled in large numbers about the 



building and in Portsmouth Square, the 
bell on the engine-house at the latter local- 
ity having rung the pre-arranged signal, 
to give notice of the proceedings going on. 

Though very much excited, the populace 
were not disorderly. Some disapprobation 
was manifested at the secrecy of the com- 
mittee's doings ; but when the result was 
known, there was a very general acquies- 
cence, although there were many who 
deemed the punishment too severe for the 
offense, and others thought he should be 
executed in broad daylight. As soon as 
the sentence was passed, the bell on the 
California Engine House, near by, com- 
menced to toll the funeral knell of the 
wretched man. This was at one o'clock, 
midnight. Captain Ray, of the police 
force, applied at the door of the commit- 
tee's room, and demanded the prisoner, 
but was refused several times, and al- 
though others of the police force were on 
the ground, they saw it was of no use to 
attempt a rescue. 

Some person climbed the libertj' pole to 
rig a block for the execution, but a loud 
shout of " Don't hang him on the liberty 
pole'' arose from all quarters. Voices 
screamed out, "To the old adobe," and a 
rush was made for that edifice, upon the 
corner of the square, formerly occupied as 
the custom-house. At the end of the build- 
ing, a block was rigged, and a long rope 
run through it. In the meantime, a num- 
ber of the police who were on the ground, 
made several attempts to obtain possession 
of the prisoner, whose arms were tightly 
pinioned and who was closely surrounded 
Ijy an armed and resolute body of the com- 
mittee, but the^' were sternly prevented : 
had they persisted, they would have been 
riddled with balls. Several citizens de- 
nounced the execution, and sought to aid 
the police. 

The prisoner by this time was nearly 
dead with fear and rough handling, when 
a rush was made toward him, a noose 
thrown over his head, the rope manned by 
twenty ready hands, who ran backwards, 
dragging the wretched man along the 
ground, until, raising him swiftly to the 



552 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



beam, tlic ln':iv3- form of the convicted 
felon dangled from the block. A few fear- 
ful struggles, a quiver of the hempen cord, 
a few nervous twitches, and tlie crowd 
gazed ujion the lifeless corpse of him upon 
whom such speedy and terrible vengeance 
liad been executed by an outraged people. 
At six o'clock, the city marshal cut down 
the body and consigned it to the dead- 
house. 

Thus ended the first execution which 
ever took place in San Francisco, where 
more crime had been committed during 
the j-ear jjust than in any other city of the 
.same poimlation in the Union, without 
one single instance of adequate punish- 
ment. Of the guilt of Jenkins there was 
no doubt. Ho liad long Ijeen known to 
the police as a desperate character from 
the English penal colonies, where he had 
passed many years as a transported con- 



A&^. 




LANCE 




SEAL OF THE CALIFOUNIA VKJILANCE COMMITTEE. 

vict. A profound impression was produced 
throughout California, as also in every 
other section of the country, by these ex- 
traordinary but inijierative proceedings. 

Only a month elapsed from this time, 
when another and similar scene of horror 
was enacted. This was tlie case of James 
Stuart, one of a regular gang of thieves 
and murderers, and who, from his own 
confession, had committed almost every 
known crime and outrage. He was delib- 
erately tried on various charges by the 
vigilance committee, found guilty, and 
sentenced to bo hung, all of which lie ac- 
knowledged to be just. At nine o'clock in 
the morning, Jul}- eleventh, the bell of the 



MonumentJil Engine Company's house on 
the plaza, attracted everybody's attention 
— known, as it was, to be a signal of the 
vigilance committee, — and people soon be- 
gan to throng down in the direction of the 
committee's quarters. The bell tolled for 
about half an hour, guns were fired from 
a brig in the harlmr, and many of the ves- 
sels in the luuliur had their Hags disi)layed. 
About half-past one o'clock, some one came 
out of the "chamber of judgment," and 
read a portion of Stuart's confession, and it 
was stated that he would be hung in an 
hour, — a jiroposition which the crowd sanc- 
tioned almost unanimously. The news 
spread, and the crowd increased im- 
mensely. The committee now came down 
stairs, and formed three abreast ; there 
were hundreds of them, principally com- 
posed of the oldest, best known, and most 
prominent citizens. Previous to this, a 
clergyman had l)een sent for, who remained 
with Stuart two hours. 

A gallows of plain uprights and a cross- 
beam had been erected, a block with a rope 
in it, and the noose ready made. On the 
way down, Stuart appeared perfectly cool 
and collected. On reaching the gallows, 
the rope was placed around his neck, and, 
with the exception of a .sliglit paleness, 
there was no change in his appearance, no 
trembling, no agitation. He ajipeared to 
feel as though he was satisfied with his 
sentence and did not desire to live longer. 

The immen.se crowd remained breathless, 
and Stuart, when under the gallows, said, 
" / die reconciled ; mtj sentence is just." 
The rope was pulled, and in a moment he 
was swinging in the air. As he went u]>, 
he closed his eyes and clasped liis hands 
together. He had previously requested 
that his face might not be covered. He 
scarcely gave a struggle ; and although the 
knot was on the back of his neck, appeared 
to suffer but little pain. A slight contrac- 
tion of the lower limbs, and a strained 
heaving of the chest for a moment, were 
all tlie .sym])tom8 of ajiproaching death. 
After hanging about five minutes, his hat 
blew off, and exjwsed to view the ghastly 
features of the murderer and robber. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



553 



When he had hung about twenty minutes, 
he was cut down by the coroner. There 
was no attempt at a rescue, and everything 
was conducted with perfect order, but the 
greatest determination. Stuart's confes- 
sion was one unvarying record of daring 
crimes, showing, in a startling manner, 
the dangers of California life and prop- 
erty. A large number of persons, some of 
them holding office, and of reputable stand- 
ing, were implicated in Stuart's confession, 
— it appearing that the association of 
thieves, burglars, and assassins, to which 
Stuart belonged, extended throughout the 
entire state — that judges and public ju-ose- 
cutors were in some places in league with 
the association — that subornation of per- 
jury was one of the commonest expedients 
to achieve the impunit_y of the criminal, 
and to baffle the working of the law — 
that the burning of San Francisco was 
several times resolved upon in revenge — 
and that life was not regarded at a straw's 
value when money was to be obtained by 
murder. 

Determined to be thorough in their work 
of purification, the committee served no- 
tices upon every vicious or suspected per- 
son, whose name could be obtained, with a 
warning to depart forthwith. This, with 
the swift and terrible executions alread\' 
witnessed, caused multitudes to flee for 
their lives. Crime rapidly diminished, 
and now, for the first time, almost, for 
years, citizens felt secure in their persons 
and possessions. 

But the vigilance of the committee did 
not for a moment relax, and, in a few 
weeks after the disposal of Stuart, they 
had in their hands two notorious robbers 
and incendiaries, named Whittaker and 
McKenzie. They were tried, found guilty, 
and condemned to the gallows. They 
themselves confessed their guilt, and a day 
was fixed for their execution. In the 
meantime. Governor McDougall issued a 
writ of habeas corpus, which was handed 
to Sheriff Hayes, commanding him to take 
the bodies of Whittaker and McKenzie, 
and bring them into court, to be dealt with 
according to law. 



Colonel Hayes and some of his deputies 
immediately repaired to the rooms of the 
committee, having declined a posse of jjolice 
offered to accompany them. The police, 
however, followed, with some stragglers 
who wished to see the result. The sheriff 
and Mr. Caperton walked up stairs and 
entered the room, unresisted. Mr. Caper- 
ton advanced to the room in which the 
prisoners were confined, announced him- 
self to be the deputy sheriff, and called on 
the two men, Whittaker and McKenzie, 
to accompany him. Colonel Hayes mean- 
time guarding the door. ^Vhen the party 
was about to leave, one of the committee 
laid his hand upon the sheriff's shoulder 
and attempted to push him from the door, 
but Colonel Hayes told him he was there 
to do his duty and was obliged to do it ; 
to prevent bloodshed, they were allowed to 
proceed. Two of the members of the com- 
mittee, susjiecting treachery, had at the 
same time let themselves down from the 
windows, and at once gave the alarm by 
ringing the bell. 

This was a little before the break of day, 
and immediately the members came pour- 
ing in from all directions. Amid intense 
excitement, the meeting organized, and 
the circumstances were detailed. The 
jjerson who had charge of the room was 
bitterly denounced. Various propositions 
were made, but no action taken. The se- 
quel ivas yet to come. 

It was about half-past two o'clock on 
Sunday afternoon, August 24th, that the 
bell of the Monumental Engine Company 
commenced tolling in a very rapid manner, 
and the news soon spread like wildfire, that 
the prisoners, Whittaker and McKenzie, 
had been taken out of the county jail by 
some members of the vigilance committee ! 

The manner of the rescue was as follows : 
About quarter-past two o'clock, the prison- 
ers were taken out of their cells to attend 
the usual Sunday services conducted by 
Rev. Mr. Williams. Soon after they were 
called out, the attention of Captain Lam- 
bert, keeper of the jail, was called to the 
gate, by the sentry who was on the roof, 
and instantly the doors were burst open, a 



554 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



rush made, and Captain Lambert thrown 
upon the ground and held. The prisoners 
were at the same moment seized and car- 
ried out. A carriage was outside, in which 
the criminals were placed, and a pair of 
line, dashing gray horses sprang at the 
word in the direction of Dupont street. 
At this juncture, the bell of the Monu- 
mental was rung in quick, sharp strokes. 
The excitement and uproar were terrific, 
the multitude surging now this way, now 
that, as the carriage dashed fiercely along. 
Pistols were held at the heads of the cap- 
tives while they rode along, and almost 
before the crowd realized what liad hap- 
pened, the prisoners were safe in the com- 
mittee's chamber of judgment. The pris- 
oners were taken by about forty armed 
persons, just as the sermon in the prison 
had been coniluded, and resisted to the 
utmost the strong arm of the capturers, 
weapons being presented with deadlj^ aim 
on both sides. 

From every ward in the city, and from 
the most remote suburban parts within the 
sound of the Vigilance bell, people came 
flocking, breathless and excited, to the 
scene of execution. The streets presented 
a scene of furious, mad disorder. Living 
masses surged do\\ni the b^'-way-s, through 
the thoroughfares, and over tlie planked 
roads, until the trani]) and roar of the mul- 
titude sounded like the beating of the 
ocean waves upon a stormy shore. Mont- 
gomery street poured its title of human 
masses into Califoruia street, and the lat- 
ter emptied its living contents, like a 
mighty river, upon the spot where the 
prisoners had been taken by their captors, 
namely, the vigilance committee's cham- 
bers — two large frame-houses, ranged side 
by side, of two-story construction, their 
gable ends fronting Battery street, in the 
block between California and Pine streets. 
The lower floors of these buildings were oc- 
cupied as stores — the upper apartments as 
the Vigilance chambers, each having hea\'y 
double doors, opening u])0ti Battery street, 
above wliich projected timbers and pulleys, 
such as are used in store-lofts for the pur- 
pose of hoisting goods from tlve ground. 



And now an outcry and huzza rent the 
air, and was borne up from the rooms of 
the committee far into the city, until ten 
thousand throats seemed to join in a gen- 
eral cheer and shout of congratulation. 
The committee were prepariny to execute 
justice upon the crimiiinls' A carriage 
dashed round the corner and up California 
street. It was greeted with cheer after 
cheer. The driver stood up in his box, 
w.aved his hat, and huzzaed in rejily. 
This was the carriage in which the prison- 
ers had been carried off from the county 
jail, and wliich was now returning from 
the committee rooms. It was drawn by 
graj'-wliite horses, whose sides were reek- 
ing with foam and perspiration. 

In the southern chamber, a rope had 
been 'reeved' through the block attached 
to the beam above the left door. AVhen 
the door of the northern chamber opened, 
a few members appeared without their 
coats, and addressed a few words to the 
masses below, announcing the caj)ture of 
the prisoners. Cries of " hanff them up .' " 
"now and here!" ensued, and the tumult 
each moment grew greater. " We hare 
them — never fear — it ix all rir/ht," re- 
sponded the committee ; and a thundering 
shout of wild congratulation went up from 
the surging mass. A few of the commit- 
tee then smashed out the glass above the 
door of the southern chamber, and one of 
their number mounted into the opening, 
holding one end of a rope. Dexterously 
clinging to the clapboards on the outside, 
he managed to pass the rope through the 
block, and returned with the two ends to 
the floor. Both doors of the committee 
rooms were then closed — the fatal ropes 
inside. 

Seventeen minutes had now been spent 
in rescuing the prisoners from the jail, 
conveying them to the rooms, and com- 
pleting the j)re]iminaries of their execu- 
tion. The great, dense, agitated crowd 
that covered the roofs, and clung by doz- 
ens to the sides of all the adjoining houses, 
and packed the streets, darkened the walls, 
and filled the rigging and boats along the 
docks, presented an awful and imposing 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



555 




EXECUTIONS BY THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN SAN FRANCISCO, 



spectacle of excited, impatient and resolute 
manhood. Ten thousand faces were up- 
turned, when the doors of both chambers 
were simultaneously jerked open, present- 
ing to view each of the prisoners, half sui'- 
rounded at each door hy committee men. 
A terrific shout rent the air. 

The multitude tossed to and fro — above 
all, amid all, calmly but sternly stood the 
band of vigilants, and in their hands the 
fainting, drooping, gasping criminals, their 
arms pinioned and their feet secured. 
The rope was about their necks, their 
coats having been removed, and they stood 
aghast and trembling in the brief second 
of lifetime allowed them to confront the 
stormy sea of human lieings below. An- 
other second of time, and they were tossed 
far out into space, and drawn like light- 
ning to the beam's end. Both were exe- 
cuted at one and the same instant, the 
signal being given throughout the cham- 
bers, and the members rushing back with 
the rope until the culprits each had been 
dragged to the block, and hung almost 
motionless by the neck. Then a few con- 
vulsive throbs, and all was over. McKen- 
zie was attired in gray pants and coarse 
shirt, and was hung from the beam in front 



of the northern room ; while 
being dragged to the fatal spot from the 
further end of the room, he manifested the 
most overwhelming fright and terror, 
and the countenance he exhibited, when 
brought up to the door, was one never to 
be forgotten by those who looked upon it — 
his face was pallid, his eyes upturned, his 
hair appeared to stand out from the scalp, 
and every fiber of his flesh quivered and 
seemed to clutch existence. Whittaker 
was more indifferent and unmoved; but he 
was cleanly dressed, and was much the bet- 
ter looking man of the two. 

Such terrible and repeated examjiles of 
swift justice at the hands of the commit- 
tee, jjroved effective, to a great degree, in 
cleansing San Francisco from the horde of 
criminals with whicli it had so sorely been 
infested, and, for a long time after, the 
citizens ceased to live in terror of burglars, 
robbers, assassins, and incendiaries. In 
Sacramento, too, where similar scenes of 
retribution had been enacted, resulting in 
the summary execution of those noted fel- 
ons, Roe, Robinson, Gibson, and Thomp- 
son, the work of reformation seemed well- 
nigh effectual. Indeed, the occupation of 
a vigilance committee appeared to be over 



556 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



— and it existed, therefore, for years, as 
scarcely more than a nominal organization. 
In 1856, however, crime had a<;ain he- 
come so rani2>ant and stalked abroad with 
such impunity, that the vigilance com- 
mittee once more took justice into its own 
hands, with an iron and uncompromising 
sway, though this time not without a fearful 
struggle with the constituted authorities. 

Tiie great exciting provocation to the 
resumption of the committee's work, at 
this period, was the deliberate and cold- 
blooded murder of James King of William 
(an appellation which he carried with him 
from Virginia), editor of tlie Evening Bul- 
letin, by James P. Case^', editor of the 
Sunday Times, both of San Franci.sco. 
Mr. King was one of tlie earliest emigrants 
to California, and was a man universally 
respected and admired for his pi'obity and 
independence, lie began the publication 
of tlie Bulletin with the avowed purpose 
of denouncing the jiolitical and moral cor- 
ruption which had gained for San Fran- 
cisco such an unenviable reputation. The 
manliness and courage with which he pur- 
sued this work of reform gained for him 
the friendship of right-minded people of 
every class, and, as a matter of course, the 
enmity of the dishonest and criminal. 
Casey, the murderer, was, both in private 
character and habits and in his connection 
with municijjal politics, a man of the class 
to whom Mr. King was most likely to be 
obnoxious. 

On the fourteenth of Maj', Mr. King, 
in a rejoinder to an attack made u|)on him 
in the Times, stated that the editor of tliat 
journal, Casey, luid been an inmate of 
Sing Sing jjrison, and had secured his 
election to an office in San Francisco by 
fraud. Casey called on King for satisfac- 
tion, failing to obtain which, he at once 
watched for him on the street, and, at five 
o'clock on the evening of the same day, 
the two met in public. With hardly a 
word of warning — giving his victim no 
time for defense, — Casey drew a revolver, 
and shot Mr. King through the left breast. 
The latter lingered for a few days and 
died on the 20th. 



The murder was followed by the arrest 
of Casey, and he was conveyed to jail 
amidst intense popular excitement, his 
immediate execution being demanded l)y 
tlie infuriated multitude. A party of men, 

i numbering several hundred, got together, 
armed themselves, put several small can- 
non on drays, and were on the point of 
starting to attack the jail, but finally de- 
sisted. It soon became evident that noth- 
ing could be done without an organization, 
now deemed imperative. A horde of mur- 
derers and other notoriously bad men had 
collected in the city, and had long gone 
unpunished and unterrified. The next 
morning, therefore, the members of the 
old vigilance committee met, and began to 
admit new members. For three days tiiey 
sat in almost constant session secretly. 
About twent3'-five hundred members, old 
and new, were admitted, these binding 
themselves to obey a committee of fiftj-, 
who alone knew what was to be done. 

On the following Sunday morning, the 
committee were ordered to assemble, and 
lie armed with a musket and revolver eai'h. 
They were divided off into companies, and 
officers appointed. A six-pounder cannon 
was provided, and at ten o'clock tliey 
marched to the jail, which they sur- 
rounded. The cannon was loaded, and 
every musket was loaded with ball and had 
a fixed bayonet. At one o'clock, Casey, 
at his own request, — desirous, as he said, 
to prevent bloodsl)ed, — was surrendered to 
the committee, who conducted him in a 

I carriage to their chambers. Subsequently 
the}' took Charles Cora, the munlerer of 
General Richardson, United States mar- 
shal, unconvicted on account of the jurj' 
di.sagreeing, and lodged him in one of their 
rooms. All this took place amidst the 
most ]ierfect silence and order ; the forces 
of the committee marched to the jail with- 
out bugle or drum, and hardly a word was 
sjioken. even by the thousands of specta- 
tors who witnessed the scene. 

The funeral of Mr. King was marked by 
every manifestation of popular respect for 
the deceased. Stores were closed, houses 
were hung with 1«lack, men wore crape on 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



557 



their arms, bells were tolled, and flags 
were displayed at lialf-mast. Meanwhile, 
Casej' and Cora's crimes had been adjudged 
worthy of death, and, notwithstanding the 
great gathering at the funeral, the rooms 
of the committee were surrounded by about 
twenty thousand people, who had got an 
intimation that the committee, fearing a 
rescue, had determined to hang the crimi- 
nals forthwith; 

A most formidable guard was arranged 
by the committee, numbering about three 
thousand stand of muskets and two field- 
pieces. The streets in the immediate vi- 
cinity of the roouKS were cleared by the 
soldiers, and the bristling bayonets that 
were displayed in every direction made the 
scene one of great solemnity. 

At about one o'clock, the workmen were 
seen preparing the gallows in front of the 
committee rooms, — now located in a two- 
story granite building, — a platform being 
extended from each of two front windows 
of the second floor, extending about three 
feet beyond the line of the building, and 
provided with a hinge at the outer line of 
the window sill, the extreme end being 
held up by means of a cord attached to a 
beam, which projected from the roof of the 
building, and to which the fatal rope was 
also attached. 

Soon the prisoners were brought to the 
windows, iu view of the multitude, dressed 
in their usual garments, and mounted the 
platform, having their arms pinioned. 
They both appeared to be firm, and but 
little affected by the dreadful fate that 
awaited them. Before placing the rope 
upon their necks, an opportunity was given 



them to speak to the people assembled. 
Casey made a few remarks, but Cora did 
not speak. At twenty minutes past one 
o'clock, ever3'thing being ready, the signal 
was given, the cord that held up the outer 
end of the scaffolds or platforms was cut 
upon the roof of the building, and the doom- 
ed men were both launched into eternity. 

The work of death being ended, the 
body of armed men who had acted as 
guards, were all drawn up in line, and 
reviewed by the superior officers ; after 
which, they countermarched down to the 
rooms, and, entering one door, stacked 
their arms, filed out at another door, and 
mingled with the citizens. 

Extending it.s operations throughout the 
state, the committee determined to effect 
a complete renovation of society, — to break 
up and drive from the state the bands of 
felons with which it was infested, — -and to 
awe into submission the political bullies 
who so largely controlled the elections. 
After executing some four criminals, and 
transporting or banishing many more, 
thus securing comparative quiet and order, 
the committee relinquished its administra- 
tion of justice ; the same was the case in 
Sacramento, Stockton, San Jose, and other 
places, where crime, unawed and unpun- 
ished by courts, had been thus summarily 
and sternly dealt with by an outraged 
community. The committee on no occa- 
sion denied the illegality of their acts ; 
they defended their course solely on the 
ground that there was no security for life 
or property either under the regulations of 
society, as then existing, or under the laws 
as then administered. 



LXV. 

VICTORIOUS RACE OF THE YACHT "AMERICA," IX TUE 
GREAT INTERNATIONAL REGATTA.— 1851. 



She Distnnces, by Nearly Eiglit Miles, the Whole Fleet of Swift and Splendid Competitors, and Wins 
" the Clip of all Nations." — Grandest and Most Exciting Spectacle of the Kind Kver Known. — Queen 
Victoria Witnesses the Match — Universal Astonishment at the Hesult. — .\dmiration Elicited hy (he 
" America's" Beautiful Model and Ingenious Kig — Scenes at the " World's Exhihition " at London — 
Grand Finale Yet to Come Off — Championship of the Sea. — England Sensitive on this Point. — Her 
Motto, " Rule Britannia!" — George Steers Builds the America — Commodore Stevens Takes Her to 
England — His Challenge to All Countries — An International I'rize Race. — Eighteen Yachts Entered. 
— The Scene on Wave and Shore. — All Sails Set : The Signal. — Every Eye on " the Yankee." — Her 
Leisurely .Movements — .MIows Herself to be Distanced — Her Quality Soon Shown. — No "Bellying" 
of Canvas — Annzing Increase of Speed. — All Rivals Piisscd, One by One. — They Return in 
Despair. — Great Odds for the America. — Is Visited by Queen Victoria. 



On pTery aide waji hcanl ttie hail, " Is Uic America Orel? "—The ODtwcr, '• Yes I 
DON TlUES. 



■— " Whnt'i .iccond ?"— The poply." Noxniso!"— Los- 



RATIFYING, in the liighest degree, to the pride of every American, was the 
auuouiicemeiit that, in the great and exciting international yacht 
race, — which formed, in an inii>ortant sense, the grand 
Jiiialeoi the '' E.xhibition of tlie Industry of All 
Nations," held in London, in 1851, — the victory had 
been won by the clipper yacht America, of one 
hundred and seventy tons, built by Mr. George 
Steers, of IJrooklyn, N. Y., and commanded by 
Commodore .John C. Stevens, also of New York. 
The prize was no less than "The Cv]j of all Na- 
tions." 

Making but an indifferent show of contributions 
to the various departments of art, science, and 
manufactures, at that renowned e.xposition, the 
conclusion had become universal, that the United 
States would gain but little edat in that magnili- 
cent congress of the industries of civilization. One 
trial of championship, however, was yet to be made 
and determined, — the supremacy, in re.spect to 
architectural model, equipment, nautical skill, and power of speed, upon that element, 
the dominion of which has ever been the coveted achievement of cvin-v maritime coun- 




GEEAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



559 



try, and of England in particular, — the 
high claims put forth bj- the latter being 
well understood. 

How happily it was reserved for the 
United States to take this honor to her- 
self, in a manner, too, undreamed of by 
any compeer or rival, will appear from the 
following history of the great fact, as given 
at the time by the press of both England 
and America. Indeed, in resiJect to the 
English journals and the English public, 
it can truly be said, that fair play and 
manly acknowledgment of a fair beat 
were never more lionorahly exh. ihited. And 
this last-named fact is all the more credit- 
able, when all the circumstances of the 
case are considered. A large portion of 
the British peerage and gentry left their 
residences and forsook their usual diver- 
sions, to witness the struggle between the 
yachtsmen of England, hitherto unmatched 
and unchallenged, and the Americans who 
had crossed the Atlantic to meet them. 
All the feelings of that vast poiiulatiou 
swarming in British ports and firmly 
believing in " Eule Britannia," as an arti- 
cle of national faith ; all the jirejudices of 
the nobility and wealthy aristocracy, who 
regarded the beautiful vessels in which 
they cruised about the channel and visited 
the shores of the Mediterranean every 
summer as the perfection of naval archi- 
tecture, were roused to the highest degree ; 
and even the Queen of England did not 
deem the occasion unworthy of her pres- 
ence. 

Until the very day, August twenty- 
second, 1851, of this celebrated contest, no 
Englishman ever dreamed that any nation 
could produce a yaclit with the least pre- 
tensions to match the efforts of White, 
Camper, Eatsey, and other eminent build- 
ers ; and in the pages of the Ya.cht List 
for that very year (1851), there was an 
assertion which every man within sight of 
sea water from the Clyde to the Solent 
would swear to, namely, that " yacht build- 
ing was an art in which England was 
unrivaled, and that she was distinguished 
pre-eminently and alone for the perfection 
of science in handling them." Of the sev- 



enteen yacht clubs in various parts of the 
united kingdom, not one of them had ever 
seen a foreigner enter the lists in the 
annual matches. It was just known that 
there was an imperial yacht club in St. 
Petersburg, maintained, it was affirmed, 
by the imperial treasury, to encourage a 
nautical spirit among the nobility, and 
that a few owners of yachts at Eotterdam 
had enrolled themselves as a club ; but, 
till the America came over, the few who 
were aware of the fact that there was a 
flourishing club in New York did not 
regard it as of the slightest consequence, 
or as at all likely to interfere with their 
monopoly of the glory of the manliest of all 
sports. The few trial runs made by the 
America, on her arrival in English waters, 
proved her to be of great speed, and satis- 
fied the English critics that her owners 
were not so little justified as at first they 
had been thought, in offering to back an 
untried vessel against any other yacht 
for the large sum of fifty thousand dollars, 
or for a cup or piece of plate. An inter- 
esting reminiscence or two, in this connec- 
tion, related by Colonel Hamilton, a mem- 
ber of the club, may here be given, 
namely : 

There had previously been some talk 
among the members of the New York 
yacht club, of a race with the yachts of 
England, and Mr. W. H. Brown, the well- 
known and skillful ship-builder, had under- 
taken to build a schooner that should out- 
sail any other vessel at home or abroad, 
and he agreed to make the purchase of her 
contingent upon her success. His offer 
was accepted by the yacht club. And 
now, to the master hand and brain of that 
accomplished architect, George Steeks, 
was confided the task of furnishing the 
model of this — to be — nautical wonder. 
The America ivas built. Failing, however, 
in repeated trials, to beat Commodore 
Stevens's yacht Maria, the club were not 
bound to purchase. But the liberality of 
the original offer was so great, in assuming 
all risk, and the vessel in fact proved her- 
self so fast, that several gentlemen, the 
commodore at the head, determined to buy 



560 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



her and send her out. She was accord- 
ingly purchased, and sent to Havre, there 
to await the arrival of the members of the 
club, who were to sail her, they following 
in a steamer. 

Everything being made ready and com- 
pleted at Havre, they sailed thence to 
Cowes, a seaport of the Isle of Wight — the 
scene of the contenijilated regatta. Their 
arrival was greeted with every hospitality 
and courtesy, not only by the noblemen 
and gentlemen of the royal yacht club, but 
by the officers of government. Lord 
Palmerston issued an order tliat the Amer- 
ica should be admitted in all the English 
ports on the footing of English yachts; 
the custom-houses were all made free to 
her ; and the admiral of the station at 




GEUKGE STEKUS. 



Portsmouth offered every assistance and 
civility. The Earl of Wilton, and the 
veteran Marquis of Anglesea, the latter 
eighty years of age, were among the first 
visitors on board. 

When the time for the regatta came, 
which was to take place on the most dan- 
gerous course possible for a stranger — in 
the waters of the Isle of Wight, with their 
currents and eddies, familiar only to those 
accustomed to the water — great solicitude 
was naturally felt by the Americans, as to 
the pilot to be employed. Warnings of 
all sorts, from various quarters, reached 
them, not to rely too much on any pilot 
that might offer; and the cnnimodore was 
naturally perplexed. But here again the 
English admiral, with an intuitive percej)- 
tion of the difficulty — of which no men- 



tion, nevertheless, had ever been made to 
liim — told Commodore Stevens that lie 
would furnish him with a pilot for whom 
he himself would be answerable. The 
offer was as frankly accepted as it was 
honorably made. The pilot came on 
board, and never, for a moment, was there 
a suspicion on anj' mind that he was not 
thoroughly honest and reliable. Yet, so 
strong was the distrust among Americans 
outside, that even after the pilot was in 
charge, the commodore was warned, by 
letter, not to trust too much to him, and 
urged to take another pilot to overlook 
him. But the commodore's own loyalty 
of character would not entertain such a 
proposition — he gave his confidence to 
the pilot the admiral sent him, and it was 
completely justified. 

The London Times said that never, in 
the history of man, did Cowes present such 
an appearance as on the eventful day 
api)ointed for this race. Upwards of one 
hundred yachts lay at anchor in the roads ; 
the beach was crowded ; and the esplanade 
in front of the club swarmed with hulies 
and gentlemen, and with the people inland, 
who came over in shoals, with wives, sons, 
and daughters, for the day. Booths were 
erected all along the quay, and the road- 
stead was alive with boats, while from 
sea and shore arose an incessant l>uzz of 
voices mingled with the splasliing of oars, 
the flapping of sails, and the hissing of 
steam, from the excursion vessels prepar- 
ing to accompany the race. Flags floated 
from the beautiful villas which stud the 
wooded coast, and ensign and bargee, rich 
with the colors of the various clubs or the 
devices of the yachts, flickered gayly out in 
the .soft morning air. The windows of the 
houses which commanded the harbor were 
filled from the parlor to the attic, and the 
"old salts " on the beach gazed moodily on 
the low black hull of " the Yankee," and 
spoke doubtfully of the chances of her 
competitors. Some thought " the Vo- 
lante" might prove a teaser if tin- wind 
was light; others speculated on "the 
Alarm" doing mischief, if there was wind 
enough to bring out the qualities of that 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



561 



large cutter in beating up to windward 
and in tacking ; while more were of the 
opinion that the America would carry off 
the cup, " blow high — blow low." It was 
with the greatest difficulty the little town 
gave space enough to the multitudes that 
came from all quarters to witness an event 
so novel and interesting. Among the vis- 
itors were countless strangers — Frenchmen 
en route for Havre, Germans in quiet won- 
derment at the excitement around them, 
and Americans already triumphing in the 
anticipated success of their countr3'men. 

Eighteen yachts were entered, and were 
moored in a double line from Cowes castle, 
the Beatrice being nearest that point, the 
America about midway, and the Aurora 
farthermost. The mist which hung over 
the fields and woods from sunrise was car- 
ried off about nine o'clock by a verj' gentle 
breeze from the westward, which veered 
round a little to the south soon afterwards, 
and the morning became intensely warm. 

At five minutes before ten o'clock, the 
preparatory gun was fired from the club- 
house battery, and the yachts were soon 
sheeted from deck to topmast with clouds 
of canvas, huge gaff topsails and balloon 
jibs being greatly in vogue, and the Amer- 
ica evincing her disposition to take advan- 
tage of her new jib by hoisting it with all 
alacrity. The whole flotilla, not in the 
race, were already in motion, many of 
them stretching down towards Osborne 
and Ryde, to get a good start of the clip- 
pers. Of the yachts that entered, fifteen 
started, seven of these being schooners 
and eight cutters. 

Precisely at ten o'clock, the signal gun 
for sailing was fired, and before the smoke 
had well cleared away the whole of the 
beautiful fleet was under way, moving 
steadily to the east, with the tide and a 
gentle breeze. The start was effected 
splendidly, the yachts breaking away like 
a field of race-horses ; the only laggard 
was the America, which did not move for 
a second or so after the others. Steamers, 
shore-boats, and yachts, of all sizes, buzzed 
along on each side of the course, and 
spread away for miles over the rippling 
36 



sea — a sight such as the Adriatic never 
beheld in all the pride of Venice — such, 
indeed, as was never before known in the 
annals of j'achting. Soon after they 
started, a steamer w'ent off from the roads 
with the members of the sailing committee 
— Sir B. Graham, Bart., commodore, of 
the royal yacht squadron, and other distin- 
guished gentlemen. The American minis- 
ter, Hon. Abbott Lawrence, and his son. 
Colonel Lawrence, attache to the American 
legation, arrived too late for the sailing of 
the America, but were accommodated on 
board the steamer, and went round the 
island in her. 

The Gipsey Queen, with all her canvas 
set and in the strength of the tide, took 
the lead after starting, with the Beatrice 
next, and then, with little difference in 
order, the Volante, Constance, Arrow, and 
a flock of others. The America went 
easily for some time under mainsail, (with 
a small gaff-topsail of a triangular shape, 
braced up to the truck of the short and 
slender stick which served as her main-top- 
mast,) foresail, fore-staysail and jib ; 
while her competitors had every cloth set 
that the club regulations allowed. She 
soon began to creep upon them, passing 
some of the cutters to windward. In a 
quarter of an hour she had left them all 
behind, except the Constance, Beatrice, 
and Gipsej' Queen, which were well to- 
gether, and went along smartly with the 
light breeze. Once or twice the wind 
freshened a little, and at once the Amer- 
ica gathered way, and passed ahead of the 
Constance and Beatrice. Another puff 
came, and she made a dart to pass the 
Gipsey Queen, but the wind left her sails, 
and the little Volante came skimming past 
her with a stupendous jib, swallowing up 
all the wind that was blowing. The glo- 
rious pageant, passing under Osborne- 
house, formed a pageant surpassingly fine, 
the whole expanse of sea, from shore to 
shore, being filled as it were with a count- 
less fleet, while the dark hull of the Ven- 
geance, eighty-four, in the distance at 
Spithead, towered in fine relief above the 
tiny little craft that danced around her ; 



562 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the green hills of Hampshire, the white 
batteries of Portsnioutli, and the pictur- 
esque coast of Wight, forming a lino 
frame-work for the picture. 

As the Volauto passed the America, 
great was the delight of the patriotic, but 
the nautical knowing ones shook their 
heads, and said the triumph would be 
short-lived ; the breeze was freshening, 
and then the sprightly cutter must give 
way, though she was leading the whole 
squadron at the time. At half-past ten, 
the Gipsey Queen caught a draught of 



densely crowded. But the America was 
forging ahead, and lessening the number 
of her rivals every moment. The Sand- 
heads were rounded by the Yolante, 
Gipsej' Queen, and America, without any 
perceptible change in poiyt of time, at 
eleven o'clock, the last being apparently 
to leeward. Again, the wind freshened, 
and the fast yadits came rushing up before 
it, the run from the Sandheads being most 
exciting, and well contested. Here one of 
the West India mail steamers was ob- 
served jJaddling her best, to come in for 




jssjs*. 



YACHT AHKRIOA : 



wind and ran past the Volante, — the Con- 
stance, America, Arrow, and Alarm, being 
nearly in a line ; but in fifteen minutes, 
the breeze freshened again for a short 
time and the America passed the Arrow, 
Constance, and Alarm, but could not shake 
off the Volante nor come up to the Gipsey 
Queen, and exclamations were heard of 
" Well, Brother Jonathan is not going to 
have it nil his own way," etc. 

Passing Ryde, the excitement on shore 
was very great, and the vast jiier was 



J. C BTEVEN8, COM. 

some of the fun, and a slight roll of the 
set inwards began to impart a livelier 
motion to the j'achts, and to render excur- 
sionists, whether male or female, ghastly- 
looking and uncomfortable. 

The yachts Volante, Freak, Aurora, 
Gipsey Queen, Amirii-a. Beatrice, Alarm. 
Arrow, and Baccliantc, were timed clt 
Norman's Land i)iioy ; the other six were 
staggering about in the rear, and the 
Wyvern .soon afterwards hauled her wind, 
and went back towards Cowes. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



563 



At this point, the wind blew somewhat 
more steadily, and the America began to 
show a touch of her quality. Whenever 
the breeze took the line of her hull, all the 
sails set as flat as a drumhead, and, with- 
out any careening or staggering, she 
"walked along" past cutter and schooner, 
and, when off Brading, had left every 
vessel in the squadron behind her, with 
the exception of the Volante, which she 
overtook at half-past eleven, when she 
very quietly hauled down her jib, — as 
much as to say she would give her rival 
every odds, — ^and laid herself out for the 
race round the back of the island. The 
weather showed signs of improvement, as 
far as yachting was concerned ; a few sea- 
horses waved their crests over the water, 
the high lands on shore put on their fleecy 
" nightcaps " of cloud, and the horizon 
looked delightfully threatening ; and now 
" the Yankee " flew like the wind, leaping 
over, not against, the water, and increasing 
her distance from the Gipsey Queen, 
Volante, and Alarm, every instant. The 
way her sails were set evinced superiority 
in the cutting which the English makers 
would barely allow, but, certain it was, 
that while the jibs and mainsails of her 
antagonists were "liellied out," her canvas 
was as flat as a sheet of paper. No foam, 
but rather a water-jet rose from her bows ; 
and the greatest point of resistance — for 
resistance there must be somewhere — 
seemed about the beam, or just forward of 
her mainmast, for the seas flashed off from 
her .sides at that point every time she met 
them. While the cutters were thrashing 
through the water, sending the spray over 
their bows, and the schooners were wet up 
to the foot of the foremast, the America 
was as dry as a bone. She had twenty-one 
persons on her deck, consisting of the 
owners, the crew, cook, and steward, a 
Cowes pilot, and some seamen. They 
nearly all sat aft, and, when the vessel did 
not require any handling, crouched down 
on the deck by the weather bulwarks. 
The Gipsey Queen, when a little past 
Brading, seemed to have carried awaj- her 
foresail sheets, but even had it not been 



so, she had lost all chance of success. The 
America, as the wind increased, and it was 
now a six-knot breeze, at least, hauled 
down her wee gaff-topsail, and went away 
under mainsail, foresail, and fore-staysail, 
so that it required the utmost the steamer 
could do to keep alongside of her. This 
was her quickest bit of sailing, for on 
rounding the east point of the island it 
was necessary to beat to the westward, in 
order to get along the back of the Wight. 

At 11:37, the Arrow, Bacchante, Con- 
stance, and Gipsej' Queen, stood away to 
the north, to round the Nab, imagining 
that it was requisite to do so, as the usual 
course was to go outside the lightship, 
though the cards did not specifj' it on this 
occasion. The America and most of the 
other j-achts kept their course round the 
Foreland and by Bembridge. She ran 
past the white and black buoys at a tre- 
mendous rate, and, at 11 : 47, tacked to the 
west, and stood in towards the Culver cliffs, 
the nearest yacht being at least two miles 
to leeward or astern of her. She was not 
very quick in stays on this occasion, and 
it would seem she was not very regular in 
that maneuver, sometimes taking a minute, 
sometimes thirty seconds, to perform it. 
At 11 : 58, she stood out again to the south- 
east, and, having taken a stretch of a mile 
or so, went about and ran in towards San- 
down. The breeze died off at this point, 
and to keep the cutters and light craft off, 
the America hoisted her gaff-topsail and 
jib once more. Under Shanklin Chine the 
set of the tide ran heavily against her, but 
still there was nothing to fear, for her 
rivals were miles away, some almost hull 
down. 

While running under Dunnose, at 12:58, 
her jib-boom broke short off ; it was 
broken by mismanagement on the part of 
the men when straining on it with the 
windlass, and did not snap from the action 
of the sail. This accident threw her up in 
the wind, and gave the advantage of about 
a quarter of an hour to her opponents, 
while she was gathering in the wreck. 
But it was of little use to them. Looking 
away to the east, they were visible at 



564 



OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



great distances, standing in sliore, or 
running in and out, most Iielplessly astern 
— the Aurora, Freak, and Volante, in spite 
of light winds and small tonnage, being 
two or three miles behind The wind fell 
off very much for more than an hour, and 
it was but weary work stretching along 
the coast against a baffling tide, every 
moment making the loss of her jib of 
greater consequence to the America. 




" OOP OF ALL KXTI0N8," WON BY THE AUEUIOA. 

At about 3 : 20, the breeze freshened, 
and the America, still some miles ahead, 
sli]>ped along on her way, making tacks 
with great velocity, and standing well up 
to windward. Her superiority was so 
decided that sevcfal of the yachts wore, 
and went back again to Cowcs in despair ; 
and, for some time, the America increased 
her distance every second, the Aurora, 
Freak, and Volante, keeping in a little 
squadron together — tack for tack — and 



running along close under the cliffs. This 
was rather unfortunate in one resi)ect, for, 
in going about, the Freak fouled the 
Volante and carried away her jib-boom ; 
and the boatman's pet became thereby 
utterly disabled, and lost the small glimpse 
of fortune which the light winds might 
have given her. 

Meanwhile, minute after minute, " the 
Yankee "' was gaining ground, and at 3 : 30 
was flying past St. Lawrence towards Old 
Castle, while the Bacchante and Eclipse, 
which had been working along honestly 
and steadily, were about two and a half 
miles to leeward behind her. Further 
away still, were visible five or six yachts, 
some hull down, some dipped further still, 
digging into tlie tideway as hard as they 
could, and lying into the wind as well as 
their sails might stand it. 

By this time, the America had got the 
wind on her quarter, having gone round 
Eocken-end, and thus having a tolerably 
fair course from the south to north-west, 
up to the Needles, the wind being light 
and the water somewhat broken. The 
persons on board the steamers were greatly 
astonished at seeing ahead of the America, 
after she had rounded Rocken-end, a fine 
cutter with a jib and foresail together — 
"two single gentlemen rolled into one," 
bowling awa>- with all speed, as if racing 
away for her life, and it was sometime 
before they could be persuaded she was 
licit the Aurora; but .she was in reality the 
\\'ildtire, forty-two tons, which was taking 
a little share in the niatcli to herself, and 
had passed the End at 3 : 40. The Amer- 
ica, however, bore straight down for the 
cutter, which was thoroughly well-sailed, 
and passed her after a stern chase of more 
than an hour, thougli the Wildfire, when 
first sighted, was re.koned to be some two 
and a half miles ahead. 

At 5 : 40, the Aurora, the nearest yacht, 
was fully seven and one-half miles astern, 
the Freak being about a mile more distant, 
and the rest being "nowhere." The 
America was at this time close to the 
Needles, upon which she was running with 
a light breeze all in her favor. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



565 



Two of the excursion steamers ran into 
Alum Bay, and anchored there to see the 
race round the Needles. While waiting 
there in intense an.xiety for the first vessel 
that should shoot round the immense pil- 
lars of chalk and limestone which bear the 
name, the passengers were delighted to 
behold the Victoria and Albert, with the 
royal standard at the main, and the Lord 
Admiral's flag at the fore, steaming round 
from the north-west, followed by the 
Fairy, and the little dock-yard tender. 
Her majesty. Prince Albert, and the royal 
family, were visible by the aid of a glass 
from the deck of the steamers. The royal 
yacht went past the Needles, accompanied 
by the Fairy, at 5 : 35, but quickly re- 
turned, and at 5 : 45 lay to, off Alum Bay. 
The Fairy was signaled to proceed round 
the Needles, to bring tidings of the race, 
and at once started on her errand. 

But all doubt and speculation, if any 
there could have been, was soon removed 
by the appearance of the America hauling 
her wind round the cliff, at 5 : 50. The 
breeze fell dead under the shore, and the 
America lowered out her foresail and fore- 
staysail so as to run before it. All the 
steamers weighed and accompanied her, 
giving three cheers as she passed, a com- 
pliment which owners and crews acknowl- 
edged with uncovered heads and waving 
hats. At 6 : 04 the Wildfire rounded the 
Needles, and bore away after the schooner, 
which by this time had got almost in a 
line with the Victoria and Albert ; and, 
though it is not usual to recognize the 
presence of her majesty on such occasions 
as a racing match — no more, indeed, than 
a jockey would pull up his horse to salute 
the queen, when in the middle of his 
stride, — the America instantly lowered her 
ensign, blue with white stars, the commo- 
dore took off his hat, and all his crew, fol- 
lowing his order and example, remained 
with uncovered heads for some minutes, 
till they had passed the royal yacht. The 
steamers, as she passed on, renewed their 
cheering. 

On turning towards the Needles, at 
6:30, not a sail was in sight, but the 



breeze was so very light that all sailing 
might be said to have finished ; and it was 
evident that the America had won the 
cup, unless some light cutter ran up with 
a breeze in the dusk and slipped past her. 
The steamers returned towards Cowes, and 
the royal yaelit, having run close by the 
America under half-steam for a short dis- 
tance, went on towards Osborne. Off 
Cowes were innumerable yachts, and on 
every side was heard the hail, "Is the 
America first?" — The answer, "Yes." 
"What's second?"— The reply, "Noth- 
ing." 

As there was no wind, the time con- 
sumed in getting up from Hurst Castle to 
the winning flag was very considerable, 
the America's arrival first not having 
been announced by gunfire till 8 : 37. The 
Aurora, which slipped up very rapidly 
after rounding the Needles, in consequence 
of her light tonnage and a breath of wind, 
was signaled at 8 : 45 ; the Bacchante at 
9 : 30 ; the Eclipse at 9 : 45 ; the Brilliant 
at 1 : 20 a. m., August 23d. The rest were 
not timed. Thus the America made good 
all her professions, and to Commodore 
Stevens was presented, by the royal yacht 
squadron, the well-won cup. 

On the evening after the race there was 
a splendid display of fire-works by land 
and water along the club-house esplanade, 
at which thousands of persons were pres- 
ent. A re-union also took place at the 
club-house, and the occasion was taken of 
the Hon. Abbott Lawrence's presence to 
compliment him on the success of his 
countrymen ; to which his excellency made 
a suitable reply, humorously remarking 
that, though he could not but be proud of 
his fellow-citizens, he still felt it was but 
the children giving a lesson to the father 
—and if the America should be purchased 
by English friends, the Yankees would 
nevertheless try to build something better 
in New York, so as to beat even her ! 

The queen having intimated her desire 
to inspect the America, the latter sailed 
from Cowes to Osborne, where the Victoria 
and Albert also dropped down. As the 
queen, with Prince Albert, and suite, neared 



566 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the America, the national colors of that 
vessel were dipped, out of respect to her 
majesty, and raised again when she had 
proceeded on board. The queen made a 
close inspection of the vessel, attended by 
Commodore Stevens, Colonel Hamilton, 
and the oflScers of the yacht, remaining 
half an liDur on board, and expressing 
great admiration of the famous schooner. 
Indeed, the America's beautiful and ingen- 
ious model, and her remarkable sailing 
qualities, were the astonishment of every- 
body. 

The triumph of the America was due 
alike to her superior model and to tlie 
unique cut and fit of her sails. The first 
thing that met the eye, whether the vessel 
was afloat or in dock, was tlie position of 
the greatest transverse section — in ap- 
pearance situated at about ten-seventeenths 
of her whole length from forward; at this 
section, the bottom was nearly straight for 
several feet out from the keel, wliile the 
two sides included an angle of about one 
hundred degrees. At the forepart, her 
appearance contrasted strangely with the 
observances of modern ship-building. 



namely, the avoidance of hollow water- 
lines, hers being very concave, and her 
forefoot exceedingly short, or, in other 
words, the lower part of the stem and 
gripe forming a long curve, and therefore 
only a small rudder being needed; in con- 
sequence of this, there was, in steering, 
but little impediment opposed to her i)as- 
sage through the water ; the great draught 
of her water aft, eleven feet four inches, 
with only six feet forward, added also to 
her facility in steering. Any defect that 
might be expected to result from this in 
sailing on a wind, was quite avoided by 
her great de[ith of keel, — two feet two 
inches amidships. The copper was placed 
upon her bottom with great care, and 
every possible projection avoided, in order 
to diminish the friction in passing through 
the water. But by far the most distin- 
guishing feature of the America was the 
set ol her sails. The bellying of the sails 
of yachts universally — not only when 
running free, but also when sailing on a 
wind — was, in the case of the America, 
avoided to a very great extent, and from 
this arose much of her superiority. 



LXVI. 

FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE IN A NEW YORK FIVE- 
STORY PUBLIC SCHOOL-HOUSE CONTAINING- 
1,800 PUPILS.— 1851. 



Panic Caused by a Call for " Water." — Furious Rush of the Little Ones Throughout the Vast Building, 
to Escape the Supposed Fire. — The Stair Hailing Breaks, and they are Precipitated to the Bottom, in 
Helples^ Agony. — Nearly Fifty Children, in Their Beauty and Innocence, Suffocated to Death. — Hun- 
dreds of Families in Mourning. — Slight Source of all this Horror. — Sudden Illness of a Teacher. — 
Cries of " Help '." for Her. — Heard in the Other Rooms. — Fatal Misapprehension. — Instant and Awful 
Fright. — Vain Attempts to Escape — They all Pour Forth at Once. — The Street Door Locked ! — 
Bewildered Crowds — Their Headlong Descent. — A Pile of Bodies, Fourteen Feet Square. — Their 
Sighs and Writhings. — Arrival of the Firemen. — Entrance Effected by Them. — Thousands Waiting 
Outside — Indescribable Excitement. — Anguish of Parents. — Rescuing the Sufferers. — Scenes Among 
the Little Ones. — Sweet and Tender Devotion — Burial of the Innocents. 



* when life is old. 



And man? a scene forgot, the heart will hold 
Its memory of this." 




jiESSONS and examples of wholesale casiialtj^, almost 
without number, and of appalling character, checker 
the liistory of a hundred years, showing the uncer- 
tainty of even the most forecasting prudence and judg- 
ment, and illustrating, with frightful impressiveness, the precarious tenure 
of human life. But seldom, if ever before — be it gratefully said — has such 
a calamity as the one now to be narrated befallen any community ; sel- 
dom, if ever before, in modern times, has there been realized to the actual 
experience of so many hearts and homes, the anguish of those oft-repeated 
words, "the slaughter of the innocents" of which, sages, poets, and 
divines have discoursed, through the long lapse of ages. 

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday, November 20, 
1851, that the city of New York was agitated by the report of a most 
- dreadful catastrophe at Ward School No. 26, in Greenwich avenue, near 
market. At first, by a singular reversion of the usual form of rumor, not 
lialf the truth was told ; it was reported down town that the stairs of the school-house 
had given way and that a dozen children were killed. Tliis was enough to startle all 
the residents of that section of the cit}' who were away from Iiome, and all sorts of vehi- 
cles were at once summoned to convey them to the scene of the disaster. The building 
was a lofty, four-story brick and stone structure, having a basement, on a level with the 



568 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



street, paved witli flag-stones, and wliicl) 
constituted the play-room of the scholars. 
The primary department occupied the sec- 
ond floor; the third floor was used h}' the 
more advanced scholars ; and the front 
served as a lecture-room and for school 
examinations. 

The slight cause from which flowed this 
great stream of horror, agonj-, and death, 
appears to have been that Miss Harrison, 
princii)al of the female de[)artment, had 
been slightly indisposed for a few days, 
but still considered herself equal to going 
on with her arduous duties. But, on this 
afternoon, while hearing the recitations of 
a large class, in a room in the rear of the 
third story, she was attacked with a mo- 
mentary paralysis of the tongue ; she tried 
to speak, but only made an unintelligible 
noise. In her effort to articulate, her face 
was drawn into disagreeable contortions, 
which alarmed her pupils, who, supposing 
she had fainted, rushed to the door open- 
ing into the large room adjacent, and which 
was occupied by several hundred pupils, 
and screamed for " water." The children 
in that room, supposing the water was 
wanted to put out a fire, sprang towards 
the outer door in a mass, crying ^' Fire!" 
''Fire!" with frightful energy. This 
cry attracted the attention of Miss Whit- 
ney, principal of the primary department, 
on the second floor, who opened the door 
to see what was the matter, — doing which, 
so contagious was the terror, she was in- 
stantly swept by the hurrying mass of 
pupils behind her into the hall, eddied 
into the current descending from the story 
above, and carried, against all her powers 
of resistance, down to the bottom of the 
steps at the basement ; and she had 
scarcely been there two seconds before 
the railing by the side of the stairs began 
to give way. After Miss Whitney had 
been thus forced from the jirimary school, 
the children, en. ninsse, took the alarm, and 
forced their way from the various apart- 
ments. 

And now a scene of the most horrible 
description presented itself, one which no 
imagination can adequately conceive nor 



language describe. The children came 
rushing impetuously down the stairs in 
constantly accumulating throngs, until the 
stairway was chokeil up ; the outer door 
communicating with the street being 
locked, according to custom, during school 
hours. The balusters which guard the 
staircase became broken by the pressure, 
first near the bottom, and then the adja- 
cent rails, being proportionably weakened, 
gave way from stej) to step, and stair to 
stair, and were jirecipitated with the poor 
distracted, struggling, and half-gasping 
creatures who were crushed against them 
headlong into the pit beneath, already 
crowded to suffocation with tliose who had 
been first to reach the bottom of the stairs, 
in their — alas ! — vain attempt to escape to 
the street. Unajipalled by the spectacle 
before them, the children from above — 
there were one thousand eight hundred and 
fftii-one in the huildinr/, precisely the 
number of j'ears since the birth of Him 
who first proclaimed to " these little ones," 
that "of such is the kingdom of heaven" 
— still came pouring down from above, 
crowding those before them off the stair- 
case into the area below, which was rapidly 
filling with the bodies of the wounded, the 
suffocating, the dying, and the dead. 
Many of them struck their heads against 
the rough corners of the steps as they fell, 
— the stairway leading by a series of short 
stairs and landings to the top of the build- 
ing, making a right-angled instead of a 
spiral staircase, and forming a sort of well, 
about ten feet square, from the roof to the 
basement floor. 

The sight of all these horrors seemed 
only to aggravate the terrors and despera- 
tion of those who witnessed them ; and 
before any check could be given to the 
furious tide of panic-stricken little ones 
and the accompanying flood of agony and 
death, the well or area was in two minutes 
filled with human bodies, one on top of the 
other, from the basement to the third step 
of the stairs rising from the second floor. 
There lay full fourteen square feet of lit- 
tle bodies, writhing, struggling, shrieking, 
perishing with bruises and suffbeation, 



I 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



569 



which only a few minutes before were 
animated by cliildhood' s cheerful and 
happy hearts ! 

But there was more than one gate of 
death, through which these hapless inno- 
cents were doomed to pass. Many, find- 
ing their escape through the front door 
cut off, tried to escape by tlie back way, 
where also, by suffocation, death followed. 
Others leaped from the windows and were 
dangerously wounded. An alarm soon 
spread through the streets that the school- 
house was on fire, — the fire bell rang out 
its ominous peals, — and an engine com- 
pany was promptly on the spot, with a 
large body of police. The front door was 
opened, and there was presented to their 



open window, urging him to jump to the 
pavement, and calling to some person 
to "catch brother Tommy." "Jump, 
Tommy," said he, "jump, and I'll jump, 
too ! " A gentleman, looking up, had 
just time to raise his hands and make an 
effort to catch the boy as he leaped from 
the window. Fortunately, he succeeded 
in catching him, and then his brother fol- 
lowed, whom he also caught. 

Such an example, once set, had ready 
followers, and so the little fellows, to the 
number of twenty, were thus caught as 
they jumped. They probably would, un- 
frighteued, have hesitated to jump one- 
quarter of the distance; but, almost terri- 
fied to death, they thought not of the dan- 




SCHOOL-HOLSE ON GREENWICH AYENUE, N. Y., THE SCENE OF THE AWFCL PANIC. 



eyes the avalanche of sighing, screeching, 
terror-stricken humanity, and the yawn- 
ing sepulchre of the multitude now stifled 
in death. As it was impossible, however, 
to get up the stairway until the bodies 
were removed, as many as could assist at 
this sad office proceeded to convey the 
wounded and the dead to the station-house 
near by. 

Under this fatal impression that a fire 
had occurred, and might be raging in some 
part of the building, others of the firemen 
fixed their ladders to the walls and strove 
to effect an admission to the windows. 
Even here they were met by the inmates 
striving to make a desperate escape to the 
street. Their attention was at once at- 
tracted to a small boy, who, holding a 
younger brother by the hand, stood in an 



ger before, in their distracted desire to 
escape the awful abyss behind them, into 
which so many of their classmates had 
been driven. But one of the nineteen or 
twenty thus liberated uttered a single 
word as he was placed in safety. One, as 
he was caught, exclaimed " good bye," and 
started for home. When, at last, order 
was restored, and the children up stairs 
were released, there was upon every face 
that passed out of the building an almost 
unearthly look — a wild, bewildered stare, 
as though they had been wrested from the 
very jaws of death. 

Many of the children who were taken 
out alive were badly injured, and numbers 
of others were taken out quite dead, some 
from the effects of the fall, and some from 
suffocation. About forty were at once 



670 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



taken from the mass quite dead, and some 
others died immediately after being re- 
leased. The news spread like wildfire 
throughout the whole neighborhood — thou- 
sands of persons rushed to the spot — and 
mothers and fathers, frantic with grief, 
ran wildly from place to place, to find their 
children. One beautiful but frantic young 
mother was seen looking up to heaven in 
despair, and crying " Mij ch ild .' mi/ rli iUl .' " 
as she stood before the fair form and most 
lovely countenance of her little boy of 
seven sweet summers, now cold in death. 

At the station-house, the sight was truly 
appalling. Mothers were rushing in by 
scores and hundreds, wringing their hands, 
and calling their children by name, and 
when one was recognized among the dead, 
the mother's anguish gave vent, in many 
instances, to the most piercing and irre- 
pressible cries. One poor woman went 
into the station, and, after running about 
wildly from })lace to place, found two of 
her children dead; her shrieks and Lamen- 
tations were the most piteous that human 
ears ever listened to. Even the stern 
bearing of a father gave way, in mournful 
demonstrations, to the anguish of liis 
heart, on beholding, as was the ease in 
several instances, his only rliilil a corpse. 
The officers, too, and the reporters for the 
press, who were present, were far from 
being unconcerned witnesses of the melan- 
choly scene ; few if any dry eyes, indeed, 
were there visible. 

During the height of the excitement, 
thousands upon thousands of people col- 
lected in the neighborhood of the building, 
all intensely agitated, and wrought up to 
the highest pitch of apprehension. The 
mayor, the chief of police, the recorder, 
judges, police captains, and all the promi- 
nent officers an<l citizens in that part of 
the city, were on hand at the earliest mo- 
ment, rendering the most efficient ser\ire. 
A number of physicians were also promptly 
in attendance, to render such professional 
aid as could be made available; but, un- 
happily, that was not much. Almost all 
the dead were suffocated ; for, before the 
balusters gave w.iy, the lower area was so 



densely packed that those who were pre- 
cipitated from the densely crowded stairs 
did not strike the pavement, but fell upon 
the heads of those below, and in their turn 
were rapidly covered with the bodies of 
others which succeeded them. 

One poor girl, who was on the stairs 
after the balusters had gone, feeling her- 
self pressed towards the fatal edge, threw 
her arms around a younger girl next to 
her, who, having more su](port, stood in 
no immediate danger. The little one, 
feeling the grasp of her friend, said, 
" Anne, let go, please, or you will drag 
me down with you." And Annie did let 
go ; she kept her footing for a few wee 
seconds, and then reeled and fell upon the 
mass of sufferers below. She was amoiii/ 
the dead. 

Letitia, the j-oungcst daughter of Mr. 
Justice Bleakley, was a pupil in one of the 
small classes, and when the children rushed 
for the stairwaj' she was carried with the 
current, and they all went down together, 
as if upon the tossing waves. When thus 
descending below stairs, she sank upon 
one of the steps, beneath several of her 
schoolmates, and while lying there she 
was almost suffocated, became drowsy and 
sleei)y, and finally said to a little girl 
beside her, '• Antoinette, I am going to 
sleep." At this moment a i)iece of wood 
fell upon her head, and, cutting it near the 
temple, the blood flowed profusely for a 
while; this had the effect of reviving her, 
and of restoring her fully to consciousness, 
so that in a few minutes the little creature 
was extricated from her perilous situation. 

An instance of fraternal devotion, beau- 
tifully affectionate, was that of Alfred 
Gage, who, after reaching the ground floor 
in safety, saw his brother on the fatal 
staircase, vainly seeking to retain his foot- 
ing. Alfred attempted to stem the living 
tide, and to make his way through it to 
assist his brother, but his efforts were 
fruitless, — and so, placing himself heroic- 
ally just below where his brother stood 
poised, he told him to spring down. Thus 
called ujmn, the boy made the frightful 
leap into the arms of his brother, and both 



^ 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



571 



fell among tlio dying and wounded, with- 
out being in the least injured. 

At the time of the alarm, Miss Higgins, 
one of the teachers, Lad eighty children, 
from seven to ten years of age, in a class- 
room sixteen feet square. The panic 



Among the many peculiar escapes, was 
that of a girl of about ten years of age, 
who jumped from one of the windows of 
the female department, and was partially 
caught by a man who saw the act. The 
girl escaped with only a sprained ankle, 
while the man was quite seriously bruised 
by the concussion. 

Many were struck with admiration at 
the conduct of a very young lad, who al- 
most fought at the door of one of the class- 
rooms in the female department, to pre- 
vent the scholars from rushing into the 
hall and thence into the abyss of destruc- 




FRir.HTFUL CATASTROPHE IN A PDBLIC SCHOOL-HOUSR, NEW YORK. 



tiny ones were completely beside them- 
selves, and quite a number began to take 
off their clothes and shoes. This was a 
singular and unaccountable proceeding, 
but, being commenced by some of the 
scholars, the rest followed their example, 
not knowifig what they did. 



tion. He made the most manful struggle-s, 
but was finally forced along with the 
current, and came very near going down 
the dreadful precipice at the front stairway. 
One girl, about nine years old, came 
within a hair's breadth of a violent death. 
She had been forced over the fatal brink 



572 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



by the crowd that pressed and swayed from 
above, but it chanced that her dress caught 
upon a j)rojccting fragnu'nt of the l)alus- 
ter, and lield her for at least a minute over 
the yawning gulf. She was finally res- 
cued lij' the well-judged management of 
some boys, who coiive3-ed her to a place of 
safetj'. 

The lives of two children were saved, 
just at the moment of the Ijreaking of the 
rails, by a most fortunate circumstance. 
Two children, the one a girl nine or ten 
3'ears old, and the other a boy of six years, 
were rushing with the throng to get down 
stairs, but just as the boy reached the 
door he thought of his hat, and determined 
not to go without it. His sister wanted 
to hurry him on, but all that could be said 
would not i)revail upon him to go, and so 
they both returned to find his hat. Just 
before they had crossed the school-room 
the railing gave way, plunging hundreds 
down the well of the stairs, but the little 
boy and his sister were saved — for, before 
the hat was found, persons got into the 
room, and prevented any more of the 
children from passing out. 

On the day succeeding this lamentable 
occurrence, a jury was summoned to make 
an official investigation of all the circum- 
stances connected with it. Among other 
victims examined by them was the body 
of Virginia Mingay, ten years old. She 
was neatly laid out in her coffin, had no 
marks of violence on her body, but seemed 
as if she was quietly reposing in a gen- 
tle slumber. Suffocation had caused her 
death. The appearance of the fair, sweet 
form, of Virginia, touched all hearts with 
deepest sadness. 

A more melancholy sight still, met the 
jury, at a house where laj' the two lovely 
Woolley cliildren, a brother and sister, who 
had both been taken uji dead, and were 
now laid out, in affection's embrace, on a 
couch. The girl, seven years and one 
month old, was a beautiful creature even 
in death, and had been one of the most 
promising pupils of her age in school ; the 
boy was almost ten years old, and bore a 
great resemblance to his sister. The poor 



mother had only a short time previous lost 
one child, and this Idow had rendered her 
not only childless but well-nigh a lunatic. 
Grief and tears alone could depict the feel- 
ings of the human heart, under such cir- 
cumstances. Tiiis certaiidy was the testi- 
mony of those who gazed upon the two 
children of this bereaved and heart-broken 
mother, as the little ones lay in their last 
sleep on earth, for the tears glistened in 
the eyes of many who had long been 
strangers to such sensations. 

At another house, the jury found the 
body of Abby Antoinette Jacobus, a little 
less than seven years of age. So calm and 
winsome appeared the corpse of this sweet 
young creature, that the foreman called 
upon the jurors in the background to come 
and see it, for, said he, pathetically, " I 
never saw a more angelic countenance in 
my life." This was true, for no mark of 
suffering could be observed on the face of 
the child, — a smile, rather, rested upon 
the lip.s, as if the .siiirit, in passing away 
without a pang, had lingered to impress a 
kiss ujion what was once its earthly prison 
before it went to God. 

The parents of some of the dead children 
were very poor, as well as those of some 
of the injured scholars, and in some in- 
stances they were not even prepared with 
funds to burj- their dead. On Saturday 
morning, therefore, one of the .school trus- 
tees took a carriage and visited most of 
the destitute bereaved parents. He found 
the poor creatures, in some instances, in 
the deepest of poverty, living even in cel- 
lars and in back garrets, and to those who 
really needed it, relief was cheerfully 
given. One poor widow woman, who had 
an injured child, was in the act of borrow- 
ing two cents to buy some biscuit for her 
offspring, when the trustee entered, and, 
on his supplying her with a few dollars to 
nourish the forlorn and injured babe, she 
shed such copious tears of thankfulness for 
the gift, as fairly prevented utterance. 

Everything was done that sympathy, 
and kindness, and generosity, could devise. 
In many cases, orders were given for cof- 
fins and burials, and for all necessarv arti- 



i 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



573 



cles to array the little bodies appropriately 
and have them conveyed to the ground. 
The teachers of all the different depart- 
ments of the schools were eniplo^'ed in 
visiting the sick, and rendering assistance 
to the bereaved parents, and their good 
offices tended much to assuage the agony 
of many a poor mother's heart. In their 
attentions to the injured, they were very 
assiduous, and nothing was wanting on 
their part to soothe the sick bed of the 
suffering children. 

Not the least melancholy object con- 
nected with this tragical event, was the 
interior of the building itself, where these 
fifty promising children were so suddenly 
ushered into eternity, and where a still 
greater number were injured and made 
invalids. So great was the excitement on 
the succeeding daj', that hundreds of per- 
sons still crowded around the school-house 
and the police station, anxious to hear 
every new particular concerning the catas- 
trophe. Police officers guarded the doors, 
to prevent the rush of curious visitors from 
overrunning the school-rooms, and, in the 
interior of the building, officers were sta- 
tioned to keep order among those who 
gained admittance. The first thing that 
struck the attention, on entering the build- 
ing, was the scathed and naked stairway, 
and the fragments of the shattered balus- 
ter strewed over the basement floor. These 
balusters were not strong — far less so, it 
was easy to perceive, than they should 
have been for a building the uses of which 
necessarily subjected them to a heavy 
pressure in the daily discharge of one to 
two thousand children. Passing on now 
to the deserted school-rooms, everything 
was found remaining precisely as it had 
been left by its flying occupants ; — the open 
books, the slates covered with exercises 
and half-finished sums, piles of hats, 
masses of cloaks and other garments of the 
children, and innumerable memorials of 
the populous school-room, were strewed 
about upon the desks and over the floor, all 
possessing in their abandonment a most 
melancholj' interest. In due time, persons 
were employed by the trustees to gather 



up the garments of the poor dead children 
and convey them to the station-house, 
where they were spread out and arranged 
for the inspection of those friends who 
could identify them. The sight presented 
by the woe-stricken and ghastly faces, 
frantic gestures, and bewailing expres- 
sions, of these afflicted parents, was dis- 
tressing in the extreme. As might be 
expected, some of the bereaved parents 
became hopelessly insane. 

But all this might have been even worse, 
but for the admirable coolness and consid- 
eration of one individual. The sudden- 
ness of the alarm, and the overwhelming 
rush which was made for the door, seem 
to have taken the teachers utterly by sur- 
jarise, and to have communicated to them 
a portion of the delirious terror from which 
the disaster sprang. It was, however, to 
the self-possession of one of the instruc- 
tors, Mr. McNally, principal of the male 
department, that was due the peremptory 
closing of the door of his apartment, which 
prevented its inmates from escaping and 
thus contributing their distraction and 
lives to the horror of the scene. Had the 
control of his consciousness and self-com- 
mand failed him at this intensely critical 
moment, the loss of life must have been 
terribly aggravated. 

Most of the two-score or more victims 
of this dreadful calamity were buried on 
Saturdaj' and Sunday. Seventeen were 
interred in Greenwood cemetery on Sat- 
urday, and their funerals were attended 
by the surviving members of the classes to 
which they belonged. At the Baptist 
church in West Sixteenth street, funeral 
ceremonies were conducted at the same 
hour over the remains of four of the youth- 
ful dead. Touching allusions were made 
in the funeral sermon by the pastor, to the 
sweet and to him familiar faces which lay 
before him. They were all, he said, girls 
of fine intellectual endowment, and were 
all treading the same path, attending the 
same school, and, in the Sunday-school 
connected with that church, they were all 
in one class. Thus, in the beautiful lan- 
guage of inspiration, "they were lovely in 



074 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



their lives, and in their death they were 
not separated." After the singing of a 
liymn of sorrow, by the choir, the congre- 
gation jiassed round the aisles, in order to 
look ujion the faces of the dear departed 
children for the last time — a sad sight, 
indeed, those gentle forms and fairest of 
faces, now motionless in death. The four 
coflSns were alike, and, as the children 
were nearly of the same age, they were 
about the same size. Though not sisters 
in life, they looked so in death. 

As already stated, seventeen of the 
unfortunate children were on Saturday 
conveyed to Greenwood cemetery, and in 
one hearse four little bodies were to be seen. 
The throng of carriages and spectators, as 
cortege after cortege entered that silent 
garden of the dead, showed the feeling 
that possessed all hearts in the community. 
At the graves, the scenes were inexpres- 
sibly heart-rending, for the tears and 
moans of bereaved mothers who mourned 
for the loss of their dear offspring, mingled 
witli the tears of sympathy from surround- 
ing friends, melted every heart that beat 
in the grave-yard, and made the occasion 
one never to be forgotten b^- those present. 

On Sunday, burial services were per- 
formed for most of the remaining victims. 
Among these was that of little Jane 
Gowr}-, twelve years old, being the only 
child of a widow lady, who lost her hus- 
band but a few months previously, in Cal- 
ifornia. The body was accompanied to 
the church by the children of the class to 
which the deceased belonged, and the poor 
mother, worn down with grief, and help- 
less from excessive sorrow, was carried into 
a carriage to pay the last duty to her 
departed child. On the arrival of the body 
at the church, it was placed opposite the 
pulpit, and the cofiin lid being removed, 
the sweet little face was looked upon once 
more by the congregation which tilled 
every part of the vast edifice. During the 
funeral address, the whole audience was 
moved to sighs and tears, and this mourn- 
ful fact was so manifest, that the distressed 



mother fainted, in the excess of her grief 
and her atHiction. The hearse was now 
brought, and the remains being placed in 
it, a procession was formed, to proceed to 
the grave. A large omnibus, supplied by 
Mr. Reuben Kipp, of the firm of Kipp & 
Brown, stage proprietors, and drawn by 
six beautiful cream-colored horses, led the 
mournful cavalcade, and in it were forty- 
on(> young girls, who were members of the 
same Sabbath-school with the deceased — 
that of the Jane-street Methodist church. 
The procession gently coursed to the cem- 
etery, where the remains were deposited, 
amid an outburst of mourning which would 
have melted the most hardened heart. No 
less than seven of the scholars belonging 
to this Sabbath-school were killed by the 
accident. 

Similar proceedings took place in con- 
nection with the funerals of others, though 
but one more need here be particularized, 
to show the sorrow upon sorrow which I j 
attended this frightful catastroi)he. Early 
on Sunday afternoon, the body of little 
Cornelia Cadmus, a pretty girl of seven ' | 
summers, was conveyed from the residence 
of her distracted parents to Trinit\- ceme- 
tery. A large procession was formed, and 
the cortege moved at a slow rate, through 
the different streets. The bereaved par- 
ents were grieving at their loss, and 
lamenting their unfortunate condition, 
little thinking that another sad accident 
awaited their remaining child, at the very 
moment that the cold grave was about to 
close u]ion their little daughter forever; 
but so it was, and the doom of another 
infant, dearer than ever by the loss of his 
sister, was very near. The little brother 
of the deceased, while looking from a car- 
riage window, fell tluougb, and the wheel 
of the next vehicle passed over its head. 
The deej)ly distressed mother clasped the 
little sufferer in her arms and bathed it 
with new tears, amid the sobs of svmi)a- 
thizing beholders. Medical aid was ob- 
tained, and the cranium of the little child 
was pronounced perilously injured. 



LXVII. 

APPEARANCE OF THE MARINE MONSTER KNOWN AS 

THE SEA-SERPENT, ALONG THE ATLANTIC 

COAST.— 1851. 



Statements of Numerous Eye Witnesses, as to its Form, Size, Color, and Movements. — Estimated 
Length, One Hundred Feet — Its Body Cylindrical in Shape, and of the Diameter of a Large Cask. — 
Effect of Shot Upon the Animal. — Astonishing Rapidity of its Course — Observers Struck with Won- 
der and Awe at Such a Sight. — The Monarch of the Deep. — Opinions of Scientific Men. — Existence 
of the Animal Proved. — Evidence on this Point. — Reliability of the Witnesses. — Their Various 
Descriptions. — Concurrence of Testimony. — No Similar Sea Animal — Seen in Different Localities. 
— Observed from Sea and Shore. — Frequents New England — Near Views Obtained of Him — Clear 
Weather, Smooth Seas — Drawings Made on the Spot. — His Gigantic Dimensions. — Linnaean Soci- 
ety's Report — Supposed to be the "Leviathan." — His Steady and Onward Pace. — A Mile in Three 
Minutes. — Attitude of the Body. — Elevation of the Head. — Dark Brown the Chief Color. 



"Prone on the flood extended, lone and large, 

floatinc niuny a rood; in l>ulk ashuge 

Ae whom the fablee name ot mouBtreus size." 




ZOOLOGICAL writers of eminence, especially in that department or branch of 
the great science of zoology which treats of fishes, — their anatomical structure, form, 
classification, and habits, — are not yet unanimous in their opinion as to the actual 
existence of the monster so long known by the name of the Sea-Serpent. But, as the 
facts by which such a question is to be decided must, after all, depend simply upon the 
accumulated testimony of those persons who, at different times and in different locali- 
ties, have not only seen but minutely described the remarkable marine inhabitant thus 
made so familiar and interesting to the public mind, it will be sufficient to present here 
the substance of that testimony, so far as it shall appear conclusive, and which stands 
unirapeached on the score of credibility and consistency, — it being universality admitted, 
by those who have made the subject a specialty of investigation, that the monster which 
made its appearance on our American coast, in 1851, exhibited the same general char- 
acteristics as those noted by observers before and since. 

By most of those who have seen this wonderful inhabitant of the great deep, and been 
so near him as to make accurate observations, and, from these, furnish a detailed account 



576 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



of his peculiarities, his length is estimated 
at about one hundred feet, — tlie state- 
ments, liowever, on this point, vary some- 
what, some witnesses putting it at sevent}'- 
five feet, others at one hundred, and some 
at considerably more tliaii this, a difference 
owing to the various distances or posi- 
tions, at or in which the animal was seen; 
its thickness is represented as about that 
of a large barrel, or of a cask twice the 
size of an ordinary barrel. By many, who 
have observed the peculiarities of the ser- 
pent's form, he is described as having 
protuberances on the back, nearly the 
whole length from the neck to the tail, 
and not unlike the humps on the camel's 
back ; but others have entertained the 
opinion that these apparent bunches were 
owing to the manner of his motion in the 
water. 

When the serpent was lirst seen in 
Penobscot Bay, on his modern visit to that 
section, the bunches or humps ^vere taken 
by some to be a school of porjioises, swim- 
ming by in a line — a supposition, however, 
which was afterwards abandoned, when 
the animal was seen by a number of per- 
sons, at different times, and most of them 
too near the striking object, not to be able 
to judge correctly. 

But, long before the appearance of the 
sea-serpent on our American coasts, that 
is, in the waters of Massachusetts and 
Maine, he liad been repeatedly seen along 
the shores of Norway, and minutely de- 
scribed by those who saw him. They 
represented the creature to bo of great 
length, and to have large bunches ; the 
drawing made of the monster very strongly 
resembles the sketches given of the vis- 
itor on our American coast. 

It is not necessary, however, to go so 
far distant as northern Europe, for evi- 
dence that the sea-serpent is a verity and 
not a myth. America, and especially the 
New England portion of it, has been the 
scene of its most frequent visits, and from 
there have emanated the most abundant 
and circumstantial chronicles concerning 
this mysterious and curiosity-exciting ob- 
ject. On the appearance of the serpent 



in Penobscot Bay, it was seen, among 
others, by a respectable and highly intelli- 
gent clergyman of the neighborhood, who, 
by request, prepared a particular descrip- 
tion of the animal's appearance and move- 
ments. Several persons were with him at 
the time, and had a full view of the mon- 
ster for some minutes. They saw him at 
rest on the water; and afterwards saw 
him dart out to sea with great velocit}'. 
Captain George Little, in command of a 
vessel on the coast of -Maine, saw the ser- 
pent in Broad Bay — which is west of 
Penobscot Bay — and supposed it to be 
fifty feet or more in length ; but he was 
not so near as to enable liini to satisfacto- 
rily determine this point. Prior to this. 
Captain Kent, master of a coasting sloop, 
saw a " sea-snake," as he termed it, and 
which appeared to him to be at least fifty 
feet long. Captain Crabtree, who resided 
on an island in the same bay — a man of 
excellent diaraeter, as well as of discrim- 
inating observation, deposed that he had 
lieard the people there speak of having 
seen a large sea-serpent on various occa- 
sions, and that finally he saw it himself; 
lie saw it lying at rest, for some time, on 
the surface of the water, and within five 
hundred feet of the land, and he judged it 
to be one hundred feet long and three feet 
in diameter. Subsequently, the animal 
appeared again, near the same pla<"e. On 
one occasion, two of the animals were seen 
together, in that vicinity. 

Similar in appearance to the above, was 
the serpent seen near Plymouth, Mass., 
outside of the harbor, but near the laud, 
and within a quarter of a mile of those 
who saw him. One of these was a very 
intelligent sea-captain, who viewed him 
with the naked eye, and also through a 
glass. AVhen he first observed the animal, 
it was moving directly from him, and 
seemed to be about thirty or forty feet 
long ; but on changing its course, and 
exhibiting fairly its whole length, he 
judged it to be at least one hundred feet. 
The serpent again approached the shore, 
and remained at rest for about five min- 
utes. The sky was clear and the weather 



ii 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



577 



calm, affording the most perfect opportu- 
nity for observation. Tlie bunches were 
'as large as a barrel, and about thirty in 
number. The head and neck appeared 
six or eight feet long. It was of a deep 
brown color. 

The vicinity of Cape Ann seems to have 
been a favorite resort with this monster. 
At one time, it was seen by the master of 
an eastern coaster, lying at anchor in the 
harbor of Gloucester ; there it lay at rest, 
on the surface of the water, very near his 
vessel, with its head near the caljle in 
front of the vessel, and its tail extending 
beyond the stern. The vessel was at least 
sixty feet, according to her tonnage ; and 
the animal not less than seventy-five or 
eighty. Soon after, one of the citizens of 
Gloucester, who resided at the point of 
land running out into the Atlantic, saw 
the serpent and gave an account of it. 
He had a chance to view the animal for 
more than an hour, during which it was 
in motion backwards and forwards, and 
nearer, or more distant. He saw what he 
estimated to be fifty feet of the animal's 
length, but did not speak of any bunches. 
He described its color as others had done. 

During the same season, and the same 
month, August, the serpent was seen in 
that vicinity by a number of other persons, 
and sometimes within fifty feet. Some 
noticed the bunches, and some did not. 
The crew of a vessel belonging to New- 
buryport, of another vessel belonging to 
Beverly, and of a vessel from New York 
to Salem, all saw what they called a large 
sea-serpent. So also did the fishermen of 
several Chebaco boats, then emploj'ed in 
the cod or mackerel catching carried on in 
that region. 

From all this testimony, there seemed 
to be no doubt, reasonable or plausible, of 
the existence of a sea-serpent, of some 
eighty to one hundred feet in length, and 
of the size of a large barrel or cask. 
Indeed, so great was the sensation created 
by the movements of the monster, so 
repeatedly seen for successive years by so 
many witnesses, and described by them 
with such detail and general concurrence, 
37 



that the Linnrean Society of Boston ap- 
pointed a committee of eminent scientitic 
gentlemen to collect evidence on the sub- 
ject, and they drew up a report, giving in 
detail the depositions of numerous wit- 
nesses who saw the creature on shore or at 
sea, some of them from a distance of only 
ten yards. According to these witnesses, 
the monster was from eighty to ninetj' feet 
long, his head usually carried about two 
feet above water ; of a dark brown color ; 
the body with thirty or more protuber- 
ances, compared by some to four-gallon 
kegs, by others to a string of buoys, and 
called by several persons bunches on the 
back ; motion very rapid, faster than that 
of a whale, swimming a mile in three min- 
utes, and sometimes more, leaving a wake 
behind him ; chasing mackerel, herrings, 
and other fish, which were seen jumping 
out of the water, fifty at a time, as he 
approached. He only came to the surface 
of the sea in calm and bright weather. A 
skillful gunner fired at him from a boat, 
and, having taken good aim, felt sure he 
must have hit him on the head; the crea- 
ture turned toward him, then dived under 
the boat, and immediately re-appeared on 
the other side, at a distance of about a 
hundred yards. 

A somewhat curious incident occurred 
at the time the committee were concluding 
their report, and which naturally created 
quite a lively interest and not a little dis- 
cussion. Just where the animal was so 
often seen in Gloucester Bay and near 
Cape Ann, there is a cove making up into 
the land, beyond the general course about 
one hundred and fifty yards; near this 
cove a snake was discovered and taken, 
while aiming towards the bay. When 
moving slowly on the ground, the motion 
was vertical; and it moved by contracting 
and then extending itself. One of tlie 
men present pursued and detained it with 
his pitchfork. The efforts it made were 
said to be different from those of ordinary 
snakes. It had the power of expansion 
and contraction in a remarkable degree. 
When contracted, it was scarcely two feet 
long, and there appeared bunches on the 



578 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-lS7fi. 



back; Init when it was at rest and lying 
liorizoiitally, it was three feet, and the 
bundles were hardly perceptible. The 
peoi)le who killed it, believing that there 
were some striking differences between 
such a snake and those coinnionly seen, 
sent it to Boston, where it was carefulh' 
and scientifii-ally examined. Its length 
was found to be two feet eleven inches and 
a half; and, from a comparison of the 
young of large land snakes and serpents, 
with those of common age and growth, it 
was estimated that the parent of this — if 
but a few weeks old — might be from one 
hundred to one hundred and eight feet. 
The place where the young was found ; 
the peculiar formation with bunches made 
by self-contraction ; and the spine adapted 
to tliis singular shape, excepting near the 
neck and tail, where it was straight as in 
other serpents, and where no bunches were 
discovered in the large monster; — all these 
characteristics seemed to render it proba- 
ble, in the minds of the examiners, that 
the small animal was the offsj)ring of the 
great sea-monster. But some doubted, and 
attributed the protuberances to disease 
of the spine. Twenty-four distinct bunches 
were noticed between the head and tail- 
end of the creature. The color was a deep 
brown ; the belly a little lighter. The 
internal structure of the animal captured, 
differeil from that of other serpents; the 
different vertebrae varied, and were accom- 
modated by their shape and size to the 
conliguration of the bax^'k. 

Among others who saw this nianiniot]i 
inhabitant of the deep, — supposed to be 
the "leviathan," of which King David 
speaks when recounting the wonders of 
divine jiower, — was the Hon. T. H. Per- 
kins, for fifty years one of the most emi- 
nent and honored of Boston merchants. 
On seeing the far-famed animal, he wrote 
down notes of his observations, from which 
it appears that lie counted fourteen pro- 
jections, six feet apart;, on the back, which 
he presumed to be vertical flexures of the 
body when in motion ; but he also saw the 
body bent horizontally into the figure of 
the letter S. It was of a chocolate brown 



color, the head flat, and about a foot across. 
Respecting the length, Mr. Manslield, a 
friend of Mr. Perkins, was driving a one- 
horse vehicle on a road skirting Gloucester 
Bay, along the edge of a cliff, fifty or sixty 
feet in perpendicular height, when he saw 
the serpent at the base of the cliff on the 
white beach, where there was not more 
than six or seven feet water, and, giving 
tlie reins to his wife, looked down u|)on the 
creature, and made up his mind it was 
ninety feet long; he then took his wife to 
the spot, and asked her to guess its length, 
and she said it was as long as the wharf 
behind their house, and this measured 
about one hundred feet. While they were 
looking down on it, the creature appeared 
to be alarmed, and started off. 

ilr. Cabot, another eminent Boston mer- 
chant, was also one of those who saw 
the serpent, and gave an account of it to 
that distinguished man of science, who 
was then traveling in America. Sir Charles 
Lyell. On the latter asking Mr. Cabot 
whether what seemed to be a serpent, or 
monster, might not have been a shoal of t 
porpoises following each other in a line, at ' 
the distance of one or two yards, and 
tumbling over so as to resemble a string of 
floating barrels in motion, Mr. Cabot said 
that after such an explanation had been 
suggested respecting the matter, he was 
one of thirty persons who ran along the 
beach at Nahant, near Boston, when the 
sea-serpent was swimming very near the 
shore; — thej' were all convinced that it 
was <inc animal, and tliev soon saw it raise 
its heail out of the water. Mr. Cabot also 
stated that there were at that time two 
sea-serpents moving about in the bay at 
once. 

The fact of the sea-serpent's course not 
being confined to the places at the north 
already mentioned, but that it went as far 
south as Cape Hatteras, in North Carolina, 
latitude thirty-five degrees, is well attested. 
Among other evidence to this effect, is 
that of Captain Johnson, of New Jersey, 
who states that he was sailing from the 
West Indies, on the inner edge of the 
Gulf Stream, in a deeply laden brig, when 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



579 



they were becalmed, and the crew and 
passengers awe-struck by the sudden appa- 
rition of a creature having a cylindrical 
body of enormous length, and which lifted 
up its head eight feet above the water. 
The story was so lihely to be discredited, 
that the captain would only relate it to 
intimate friends. 

One of the most readable and reliable 
narratives concerning this gigantic fish, is 
that contained in a letter written by James 
Prince, formerly United States marshal, to 
Judge Davis, of Massachusetts. His head 
(writes Mr. Prince,) appeared about three 
feet above water, and on his back were 
to be seen thirteen bunches. He passed 
three times, at a moderate rate, across the 
bay, but so as to occasion a foam in the 
water ; and in length the monster was 
judged to be from forty to not more than 
sixty feet. Whether, however, the wake 
might not have been added to the appear- 
ance of his length, or whether the undu- 
lation of the water or his peculiar manner 
of propelling himself might not, also, have 
caused the appearance of protuberances, 




could not be positively determined. The 
first view of the animal occasioned some 
agitation on the part of the observers, and 
the novelty of the scene perhaps prevented 
that precise discrimination which after- 
wards took place. As he swam up the 
bay, the spectators moved on and kept 
nearly abreast of him. He occasionally 
withdrew himself under the water, and 
the idea occurred to those who witnessed 
his movements, that his practice of now 
and then raising his head above the level 
of the water was to take breath, as the 
time he kept under was, on an average, 
about eight minutes ; and, after being 
accustomed to viewing him, the party 
became more composed, and his general 
appearance was as above delineated. 

Mrs. Prince and the coachman, having 
the best eye-sight, were of great assistance 
to Mr. Prince, in marking the progi-ess of 
the animal ; they would say, 'He is now 
turning,' and, by the aid of a glass, Mr. 
Prince saw him distinctly in that move- 
ment. He did not turn without occupying 
some space, and, taking into view the time 
and space which he found necessary to his 
accommodation in this process, some crite- 
rion was afforded by which to judge of the 
creature's length. Seven distinct views 
were obtained of him, from the long beach, 
so called, and at some of them the animal 
was not more than a hundred yards dis- 
tant. Mr. Prince had been accustomed to 
see whales, sharks, grampuses, porpoises, 
and other large fishes, but this monster 
partook of none of the appearances of either 
f these. The water was extremely smooth 



APPEARANCE OF THE HUGE SEA-SERPENT ALONG THE ATLANTIC COAST. 



580 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



and clear, and the time occupied in these 
minute and deliberate observations, was 
more tlian three liours. The company of 
witnesses, exceeding twohumlred, were all 
alike satisfied and united as to the appear- 
ance of the animal, in respect to size and 
movements, as liere described. 

But, that the e.\istence of the American 
sea-serpent is not a " local trumped-up 
wonder," will further apiear from the 
account given by a l>arty of five English 
officers, which sailed from Halifax, Nova 
Scotia, in a small yacht, for JlalKine Bay, 
forty miles westward, on a fishing excur- 
sion, and whose testimony is unanimous 
and unreserved relative to this monarch of 
the tribes of the deep. 

According to the statement published 
in the " Zoologist," of the experiences of 
this party of officers, they had run about 
half the distance intended, as they sup- 
posed, and were enjoying them.selves on 
deck, smoking cigars, and getting their 
tackle ready for the (•ont('ni[>lated campaign 
against the salmon, when, what was the 
party's surprise, to see an immense shoal 
of grampuses, appearing to be in an unu- 
sual state of excitement, and wliich, in 
their gambols, approached so close to the 
yacht, that some of the company amused 
themselves by firing at tliem with rifles. 
At this time, the boat was jogging on at 
about five miles an hour, and was crossing 
Margaret's B.ay. Their attention was 
presently diverted from tiie grampuses and 
" such small deer," by an exclamation from 
the man-of-war's-man, who was sitting to 
leeward, of " Oh ! sirs, look hen- ! " They 
were started into a ready compliance with 
the excited summons, and at once saw an 
object which banished all other feelings 
save wonder and surprise. 

At the distance of some one hundred 
and fifty to two hundred j-ardsontho star- 
board bow of the little craft, they saw the 
head and neck of some denizen of the 
deep — precisely like those of a common 
snake, — in the act of swimming, the head 
so far elevated and thrown forward by the 
curve of the neck as to enable the observ- 
ers to see the water under and beyond it. 



The creature passed along rapidly, leaving 
a regular wake, from the commencement 
of which to the fore part, which was out of 
water, the length seemed to be about 
eighty feet— certainly not less than this. 
They were, of course, all taken aback at 
the sight, and with staring eyes and in 
speechless wonder stood gazing at it for 
full half a minute, all being perfectly sat- 
isfied that they ha<l been favored with a 
view of the true and veritable sea-serpent, 
which by many was regarded as existing 
only in tlie lirain of some Yankee ski|)per, 
and treated as a tale not much entitled to 
belief. The man-of-war's-man's exclama- 
tion was characteristic as well as pertinent 
— " Wdl, I've sailed in nil parts of the 
world, and have seen sum sights too in my 
time, but this is the queerest tiling I ever 
see!" 

The difficulty of giving correctly the 
dimensions of any object in the water is 
well-known. The head of the creature was 
by this l)arty set down at aliout six feet in 
length, and that jiortion of the neck which 
was visible, at the same ; the ajiparent 
extreme length, at between eighty and a 
hundred feet. Tlie thickness of the nerk 
e<jualed the trunk of a moderate si/.e<l tree. 
The color of the head and neck was a 
dark brown, nearly ap[ir<ia<hing to lilack, 
streaked in an irregular manner with 
white. 

Another witness who maj' profitably be 
cited in this connection, as alike intelli- 
gent and disinterested, is Captain M'Qidia", 
commander of the English ship Du'dalus, 
in the autumn of 1848. While the ship's 
company were at sui)i>er, and the officers 
walking the deck, an object of unusual 
appearance was observed approaching the 
ship from before the beam. On examin.a- 
tion, it was discovered to be an enormous 
serpent, with head and shoulders kept 
about four feet constantly above the sur- 
face of the sea; ancl as nearly as they 
could approximate by comi)aring it with 
what their main-topsail yard would show 
in the water, thei*e was at the very least 
sixty feet of the animal visible, no portion 
of which was, to appearance, used in pro- 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



581 



pelling it through tlie water, either by 
vertical or horizontal undulation. The 
captain states that it passed rapidly, but 
so close under the lee quarter, that had it 
been a man of his acquaintance, he should 
have easily recognized his features with 
the naked eye; and it did not, either in 
approaching the ship or after it had passed 
the ship's wake, deviate in the slightest 
degree from its course to the south-west, 
which it held on at the pace of from twelve 
to fifteen miles per hour, apparently on 
some determined purpose. The diameter 
of this serpent, or sea-snake, was about 
fifteen or sixteen inches behind the head; 
and it was never, during the twenty min- 
utes that it continued in sight of the cap- 
tain's glasses, once below the surface of 
the water. Its color was of a dark brown, 
with yellowish white about the throat. It 
had no fins, but something like the mane 
of a horse washed about its back. 

Captain M'Quhoe states, with great pos- 
itiveness, that the creature was different 
from anything he had before witnessed — 
resembling neither a whale, a grampus, a 
great shark, an alligator, nor any of the 
larger surface-swimming creatures fallen 
in with in ordinary voyages ; neither was 
it a common seal, nor a sea-elej)hant, its 
great length and its totally differing phys- 
iognomy precluding the possibility of its 
belonging to any such species. The cal- 
culations formed, as to its dimensions and 
character, were the result of the most dis- 
criminating observations. Indeed, it was 
not until after the great length of the 
object was developed by its nearest ap- 
proach to the ship, and until after that 
most important point had been duly con- 
sidered and debated — as well as such could 
be in the brief space of time allowed for so 
doing, — that it was pronounced to be a 
serpent by all who saw it. 

Captain M'Quhae's second officer states 
that the appearance of the serpent's head 
— which, with the back fin, or mane, was 
the only portion of the animal visible, — 
was long, pointed, and flattened at the top, 
the length being perhaps ten feet, and the 
upper jaw projecting considerably ; the 



fin or mane was, perhaps, twenty feet in 
the rear of the head, and visible occasion- 
ally. The upper part of the head and 
shoulders appeared of a dark brown color, 
and beneath the under jaw a brownish 
white. It pursued a steady and undevi- 
ating course, keeping its head horizontal 
with the water, and in rather a raised posi- 
tion, disappearing occasionally beneath a 
wave for a very brief interval, and not 
apparently for the purposes of respira- 
tion. It was going at the rate of some 
twelve to fourteen miles an hour, as nearly 
as could be estimated, and its whole ap- 
pearance gave one quite the idea of a 
large snake or eel; no one in the ship 
had ever seen anything similar or so ex- 
traordinary. 

The first appearance of this famous 
creature, of any considerable size, on land, 
was the one described in the journals as 
having been cast up on the coast of Ber- 
muda, in January, 1859. It apjiears that 
two gentlemen, walking on the beach of 
Hungary Bay, heard a strange splashing 
in the water, and almost directly afterward 
saw a strange sea-monster stranded on the 
shore, and rapidly dying from exhaustion. 
It was bright and silvery in color, without 
scales, and nearly twenty feet long. On 
being examined by a scientific gentleman, 
Mr. Matthew Jones, a fellow of the Lin- 
ntean Society of London, a report was 
drawn up and published, some of the prin- 
cipal facts enumerated being as follows : 
Body, attenuate, compressed, naked ; skin, 
a silvery covering of metallic luster ; depth, 
at fourteen inches from the extremity of 
the face, nine inches, and increasing grad- 
ually to near the vent of the stomach, 
when it attained its greatest thickness of 
eleven inches, and then decreasing by 
degrees to the end of the tail. Width, at 
the same distance and through the spinal 
column, two and a half to three inches. 
All along the back, a series of intermittent 
fins extended, and so closely situated to 
each other as to appear like one single fin. 
Head, truncated and compressed ; face of a 
dark color. Eyes of a bright silver color, 
with oval pupils of a light transparent 



582 



OUR FIRST CENTUKV.— 177G-1S7G. 



blue. Tliorc was no appparance of any 
tcetli. It was a male lisli, ami, from the 
extremely fragile nature of its various 
parts, had evidently not attained to matu- 
rity. The examiner classified the creat- 



ure with what is popularly denominated 
the monster se.a-serpent, it being n^asona- 
bly assumed that a creature which, in 
infancy, was sixteen feet long, might 
attain an enormous size at maturity. 



ft 



LXVIII. 
RECEPTION OF GOV. KOSSUTH, THE GREAT HUNGA- 
RIAN EXILE, AS THE INVITED GUEST OF THE 
NATION.— 1851. 



Splendid Military Pageant in New York, on His Arrival. — Welcomed and Banqueted by President Fill- 
more. — Received with Distinguished Official Honors on the Floor of Congress. — He Eloquently 
Pleads His Country's Cause in all Parts of the Land — Processions, Congratulatory Addresses, Accla- 
mations, etc — A True-Hearted Patriot. — What Hungary Fought for. — Austrian Despotism Resisted. 
— Independence Demanded — Kossuth the Leading Cliampion — Armies in the Field — Successes and 
Reverses. — Russia's Sword for Austria. — Kossutli's Flight to Turkey. — Long an Exile There. — 
America Interposes for Him — Offers a Conveyanc-e to the United States. — The Nation's Courtesy 
Accepted. — Frigate Mississippi Sent. — Kossuth and Suite on Board. — His Landing at New York. — 
Magnificent Preparations for Him. — Invited to Washington — Speech before Congress. — An Unprec- 
edented Distinction. — His Untiring Labors. — Greatest Orator of the Day. 



" Freedom and Home! what heavenly music in thofie words I Alas, I have no home, and Uie fieedom of my people is down-trodden." 
— Kossuth, UN uis Arbival in Amebica. 




n. S. STEAMER MISSISSIPPI COSVETIXO KOSSOTH. 



^_ OSSUTH'S reception in the United States, as the great ^ 
S fc "^ advocate of Hungarian independence, was, in some of its = 

' most interesting aspects, like that accorded to the illustri- =^' ^'^^S 



584 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



ous Lafayette. In the luse of Kossutli, 
liowever, instead of homage for services 
rendered in the dark lionr of our nation's 
peril, the weU'onie extended him Nvas tlie 
tribute, spontaneous as well as universal, 
of a great and admiring republic, to one 
of the bravest and most eloquent of pa- 
triots, enthusiastically appealing, in his 
exile, to the generous sympathies of man- 
kind, in behalf of his father-land, — a pcojde 
strong and valorous, but crushed beneath 
the heavy chains of Austrian despotism, 
backed by the power of Russian bayonets. 

Louis Kossuth was born in 180G, at 
Monok, in the north of Hungary, of pa- 
rents not rich, yet possessing land, and 
calling themselves noble. His native dis- 
trict was a I'rotestant one, and in the 
pastor of that district j'oung Kossuth 
found his first teacher. His ])arents dying, 
the j'oufli, more devoted to books than 
farming, was dispatched to the provincial 
college, where he remained till the age of 
eighteen, having earned even at that time 
the reputation of being the most able and 
promising youth of the whole district. In 
1826, he removed to the university of 
Pesth, where he came in contact with the 
progressive political influences and ideas 
of the time; and these, blending wiih his 
own historic studies and youthful hopes, 
soon produced the ardent, practical patriot. 

According to the constitution of Hun- 
gary, the electoral body — called "Comi- 
tats," — treated those elected to sit in the 
Diet more as delegates than as deputies. 
Till'}' gave them precise instructions, and 
exi)ecti'(l the members not only to conform 
to them, but to send regular accounts of 
their conduct to their constituents for due 
sanction, and with a view to fresh instruc- 
tions. This kind of communication was 
rather an onerous task for the Hungarian 
country gentlemen, and hence many of 
tlie deputies em|)loyed such j-oung men as 
Kossuth to transact their political business, 
and conduct their correspondence. Acting 
in this capacity for many members of the 
Diet, Kossuth not only became an expert 
parliamentary agent, but won great polit- 
ical esteem and influence. 



This kind of position soon made Kos- 
suth a member himself, and from the very 
first he distinguished himself in the Diet 
as a speaker. Under his lead, too, the 
•Diet proceeded to establish a journal for 
the publication of its debates, but wliii-h, 
being garl>led and curtailed by the Ans- 
triiin censors, soon passed into Kossuth's 
hands exclusively, who extended the scope 
of the journal by inserting editorial arti- 
cles. The character of these articles so 
incensed the Austrian authorities, that 
they seized his presses. In a short time, 
however, Kossuth's reports and articles 
were printed by the then new method of 
lithography, and circulated even more 
largely, notwithstanding the increased 
labor and expense. This success but 
redoubled the inveteracy of the Austrian 
government, which dissolved the Diet, and 
were no sooner rid of its control and 
importunity, than they discovered and 
destroyed all Kossuth's lithographic api)a- 
ratus. But even this did not stop his jien 
nor those of his many amanuenses ; until 
at last ^[etternich, the prime minister, ex- 
asj)erated by Kossuth's obstinacy, caused 
him to be seized and condemned to impris- 
onment, for the crime of treason. The 
indignation and agitation which followed 
this act, ended, eventually, in his release. 

Unterriiied by ]>risons and dungeons, 
Kossuth, aided by the counsels and co-ope- 
ration of his associates, continued to stir 
the hearts of his countrymen, and to 
demand political independence for his 
country. Among the many men of noble 
birth, wealth, national renown, and exalted 
talents, who surrounded him, Kossuth 
shone pre-eminent. In 1847, he was the 
acknowledged leader of the constitutional 
party, and member for the Hungarian cai>- 
ital. Nor did he falter when many broke 
off from him, and refused to follow his 
extreme measures of resistance. Of tliis 
last class were the Hungarian aristocracy, 
turning to whom, Kossuth ironically said, 
" With you, if i/OH choose ; without you, 
or afjainst ymi, if it must be." 

The vehemency with which he advo- 
cated the right and ability of the people of 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



585 



Hungary to govern themselves was aston- 
ishing, and multitudes rallied to his stand- 
ard. Nothing in modern eloquence equals 
his speeches and proclamations at this 
time. He also vigorously assailed the 
tariff system imposed vipon Hungarj', and 
which crippled her industry, thrift, and 
power, — a point which he used to great 
advantage in gaining public opinion. Up 
to 1847, he thus continued, with matchless 
eloquence and amazing activity, to secure 
a reform in the institutions and laws 
affecting his country, — a transformation of 
her moral, political, and material interests, 
as against the hostile policj' of Austi-ian 
absolutism. It was a struggle for the 
rights of Hungary, in all circumstances 
and against all foes. And now came that 
eventful j-ear in tlie history of Europe, 
1848, which drove Louis Philippe in terror 
from the throne of France, and filled 
almost ever}' capital of empires and king- 
doms with the bayonets of those who, long 
oppressed, resolved now to be free. This 
was the hour for Hnnr/ari/, and Kossuth 
was the vtanf In a long series of years, 
with the pen, with the press, and as an 
orator, he had circumvented and repelled 
the arts of Austrian despotism. The time 
had now come to create a treasury, organ- 
ize an army, and accept the wager of 
battle. Under the lead of Kossuth's ani- 
mating spirit was this accomplished ; and 
the motley bands of Hungarian recruits, 
under the direction of Kossuth as governor 
of the nation, waged, for a time, such vic- 
torious warfare against the veteran legions 
of Austria, as fairly astonished the world. 
It was in March, 1848, that the spirit of 
revolution broke out in Vienna, the Aus- 
trian capital. Metternich, the wily tool 
of tyrants, fled in dismay. Kossuth en- 
tered the capital in triumph ! Terror- 
stricken at the gulf of ruin which j-awned 
before him, the emperor made haste to 
grant concessions, namel}-, the emancipa- 
tion of the Hungarian peasantry from 
feudal bur<lens, a fair representation of the 
whole people in the Diet, the abolition of 
all exemptions from taxation, the freedom 
of the press, and trial by jury. But, not- 



withstanding the emperor's assent to these 
enactments, the Austrian government was 
soon engaged in fomenting grave difficul- 
ties in Hungarian affairs, and this led to 
those great military preparations on the 
part of Kossuth, which rapidly took the 
form of active and bloody war. 

With great vigor and spirit did the 
brave Hungarians carry on the campaign, 
and for a time their armies were every- 
where successful. But afterwards, Russia 
came and flung both sword and purse into 




the scale, and, though the armies of the 
tyrants had suffered five great defeats and 
lost every military position they had 
gained, the odds of numbers against the 
struggling patriots had now become too 
vast to admit of successful resistance on 
their part. Buda was stormed and taken 
possession of by the Hungarians in May, 
but immense Russian forces were in a few 
weeks collected on the frontiers, and in 
July they simultaneously poured into Hun- 
gary from the north and east, while the 
Croats, under Jellachich, advanced from 
the south, and the Austrians from the 
west. The struggle was soon terminated. 
Gorgej', the Hungarian general, surren- 
dered with his army of forty thousand men 
to the Russians, only two days after the 
governorship of the country had been 
resigned to liim by Kossuth. Other sur- 
renders soon followed, and thus the war 
ended. 



586 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 17T6-1876. 



During this struggle, the forces brought 
into the tieUl at any one time by the Hun- 
garians, never exceeded one hundred and 
tliirty-five thousand men, witli four hun- 
dred pieces of artillery ; against whom 
wore oppo-ied. in the final cami)aign, one 
hundred and fifty thousand Kussians, and 
one hundred and ten thousand Austrian 
troops, besides insurgent Wallacks, Servi- 
ans, etc., making a total of three hundred 
thousand men. 

Thus jicrislicd, tlifomjli Rassian inter- 
vention, the cause of Hungarian nation- 
uliti/. 

Kossuth's name had been nailed to the 
Austrian gallows, and he fled as an exile 
into Turkey. Austria and Russia de- 
manded that he be delivered up, but France 
and England interposed in his behalf, and 
the sidtan lontinued to protect him in the 
asylum wliicli he had chosen. At length, 
the offer of a resolution in tlie senate of the 
United States, that the American govern- 
ment should exert its influence in behalf 
of the exiles, seemed likely to solve the 
difficulty. This resolution passed. As 
soon as the sultan — who certainly had 
risked the safety of Turkey in disregard- 
ing tlie threats of Austria and Russia — 
received the assurance of the support of 
America and England, he not only at- 
tached no condition to their liberation, but 
gave them the choice of being conveyed to 
England or America, as the}' preferred. 
The legation of the United States at Con- 
stantinople liaving assured Kossutii tiiat 
no restraint would be put upon his liberty 
in America, he gratefully accepted the 
offer made by congress, and wrote a letter 
of thanks to President Fillmore. 

In September, IcSHl, the fine American 
steam-frigate Mississippi arrived for the 
conveyance of the late governor of Hun- 
gary, his wife, his three children, and his 
friends, to whatever country they desired. 
Soliman Bey, the Turkisli guard of the 
refugees during their exile, and wlio liad 
never failed in the most respectful atten- 
tions to them, was overcome with emotion 
when Kossuth came to leave, and in part- 
ing said to him, "You are free, and now 



you will find friends everywhere ; do not 
forget those who were your friends when 
you had no other." From their first 
entrance into Turkey to the hour of their 
leaving, the Hungarians had experienced 
unvarying kindness, hospitality, and cour- 
tesy. 

Kossuth jiroposed to pay a short visit to 
England, on his way to the United States. 
As the Mississijipi approached the coasts 
of Italy and France, bonfires were kindled 
along the heights, as a sign of rejoicing. 
Kossuth proposed to stop at Marseilles, 
and travel thence to England, but the 
French authorities, by direction of Louis 
Napoleon, would not permit him to land. 
The people of France, liowever, gave him 
ample demonstration that they were not 
responsible for the acts of the government ; 
they crowded around the ship, offering 
him garlands of laurel, while they pre- 
sented wreaths of everlasting to the Amer- 
icans, and filled the air with enthusiastic 
cheers. While opposite the shores of 
Marseilles, an operative came, notwith- 
standing the cold, swimming through the 
water, on board the frigate, to grasp Kos- 
suth's liaiid. Kossuth jiressed the work- 
man's hand most warmly, and gently 
reproached him for his temerity. 'Que 
voulez vous,' he replied; 'I desired to 
touch your hand, I could not find a boat, I 
took to the water, and liere I am. Are 
there any obstacles to him who wills ? ' 

Landing at Ciii)raltar, Kossuth took jias- 
sage in the English steamer Madrid for 
Southampton, and, after a most enthusi- 
astic recejition in the princijial English 
cities by the hard-working masses, they 
left for America. To the great republic 
of the west he had been invited by con- 
gress, and here he was received as the 
nation's guest by the president, b}' sena- 
tors and reiiresentativcs, by governors and 
legislators, by men in the highest station, 
and by the whole mass of the people. 
He arrived off Staten Island, December 
fifth, and was received by an oflicial depu- 
tation who came on board to welcome him 
to the United States. 

Saturday, December sixth, was the day 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



587 



fixed upon by the great metropolis of the 
nation, to celebrate his landing in Amer- 
ica ; a few days before, President Fillmore 
had announced to congress the arrival of 
their illustrious guest. The very skies of 
heaven, by their brightness and serenit3', 
seemed to participate in the welcome 
accorded to the distinguished chief. At 
an early hour, the streets were filled with 
a vast concourse. The decorations of the 
streets, public buildings, private houses, 
and j^haces of business, were on a large 
scale and in a style of imposing magnifi- 
cence. Myriads of eager spectators filled 
tlie space from the Park to Castle Garden, 
intent on gaining an early glimpse of the 
world-renowned guest of patriotic Ameri- 
can hospitality. 

The steamer that had been provided to 
bring Kossuth up to the city, was decor- 
ated at the bows with a large Hungarian 
standard, and underneath, on the same 
flag-pole, was the flag of the ship. At the 
stern, a large United States banner, bear- 
ing the stars and stripes, floated, and 
showed a beautiful contrast with the Hun- 
garian flag. On the arrival of the chief- 
tain at the steamer, he was recognized by 
his Hungarian hat, and large velvet em- 
broidered coat, and a spontaneous burst of 
applause rose from tiie anxious company 
who were looking out from the vessel. At 
this moment, the band struck up " Hail to 
the Chief," and the salute from the guns 
of the steamer began, which was the signal 
for another burst of enthusiastic applause. 
After much pushing and crowding, in 
which neither ladies nor Hungarians were 
much respected, the party got on board, 
and the steamer put off into the bay, the 
greeting of crowds on the shore being per- 
fectly tumultuous. On getting upon the 
boat, Kossuth remained for some time 
viewing the expansive bay, and listening 
to the descriptions of its various portions. 

At half-past twelve o'clock, the steamer 
came to, at Castle Garden, and the com- 
pany began to debark. An avenue was 
formed by the police and military, through 
which, Kossuth, his staff, and the other 
gentlemen passed to the large room, which 



they reached after much crushing and 
pushing. Among the throng of eager 
expectants in the Garden was a large reji- 
resentation of ladies. The actual arrival 
of Kossuth was the signal for an uncon- 
trollable uproar, and a fearful rush was 
made toward the door by which he was to 
enter. There was no such thing as keep- 
ing order; cries of "There he is," "Hur- 
rah," deafening cheers and shouts, set law 
and order completely at defiance. When 
he was fairly recognized by the multitude, 
a shout was given that threatened to raise 
the vast roof from its place. Nearly a 
quarter of an hour of indescribable exulta- 
tion ensued, and all the beseeching ges- 
tures of the maj'or and committee were 
unheeded. 

Finally, the mayor, who was surrounded 
by the common council and the officers of 
the military companies, presented an ad- 
dress to Kossuth, and then said : 

" 1 2)resent to you, vnj fellow-citizens, 
KcssuTH, the illustrious Chief of Hun- 
garji" 

Kossuth bowed his acknowledgments of 
the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd, and 
then proceeded to reply in a speech of 
most masterly eloquence and power. 

As soon as the illustrious exile left the 
Garden and made his appearance in the 
Battery, the acclamations of the tens of 
thousands present burst forth in almost a 
simultaneous cheer, dense and far-reaching 
though the crowd was. He was provided 
with a horse, and, surrounded by his com- 
panions in exile, rode round the ranks. 
The different companies, with their em- 
blazoned standards, shining armor, and 
splendid uniforms, went through their 
evolutions in superb style. 

The scene at the moment Kossuth's 
carriage, in its place in the grand proces- 
sion, entered on Broadway, surpassed 
description. Every window of that wide 
and magnificent thoroughfare, as far as 
the eye could see, was alive with human 
beings, and, amidst the waving of h.and- 
kerchiefs, by as beautiful an array of the 
fair sex as could be witnessed, who were 
most enthusiastic in their applause, the 



588 



OUll FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



honored giiost passed onward. It wa-s witli 
the greatest difficulty tliut the line of the 
movement coulil be ke]>t in order, in con- 
sequence of llie rusli of tlie liunian tide 
that endeavored to keep up witli tlio car- 
riage containing Kossuth. Every avenue 
leading from Broadw.ny, lent its quota of 
spectators, to swell up the teeming mass. 
Many who had witnessed similar exhibi- 
tions of popular enthusiasm from the time 
of Lafayette's arrival in 1824, said that 
this ovation to Kossuth exceeded all. 
Kossuth returned the greetings he re- 
ceived with that grace and dignity .ilways 



For some time, Kossuth gave himself up 
to receiving deputations and their congrat- 
ulatory addresses. These hailed from all 
parts of the land, and represented states, 
municipalities, corporations, ecclesiastical 
and political bodies, and innumerable soci- 
eties of various names, object.*, and nation- 
alities. One of these deputations con- 
sisted of German citizens from Albany, 
and, after the usual exchange of formal 
addresses, Kossutli, taking each one kindly 
by the hand, bade him adieu, and spoke a 
few words of cheer. Approaching one of 
tlie bystanders who had accompanied one 




ORAXD MILlTAnv BECEPTIOX OF 

so characteristic of him. Yet, he seemed 
the least interested of any one in the 
pageant — the key to hi.s sadness being 
found, doubtless, in that memonible senti- 
ment uttered by him in one of his speeches: 
" Freedom and home ! what heavenly 
music in those two words ! Alas, I have 
no home, and the freedom of my people is 
down-trodden ! " Such, indeed, was the pen- 
sive strain in which Kossuth always spoke 
of himself and of his ill-fated father-land. 



OOVEItNOK KOSSUTH, III NEW YOItK. 

deputation, Kossuth took him by the 
hand and inquired if he too was an Al- 
banian. 

"No, I am a Jersey man," rejilied the 
interrogated, whose fai;* complexion, and 
presence with the German company, had 
evidently occasioned the mistake. " There 
are several of us here from the state of 
New Jersey," exclaimed an old farmer, 
"ice have come fiftij miles to see yon.' 
"Believe me, my friends," replied Kos- 



fil 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



589 



suth, "I deeply' appreciate your kindness. 
It is these little attentions that most 
touoli my heart. Adieu." Incidents like 
this were constantly occurring. 

In Philadelphia, Kossuth was received 
in Independence Hall, where the immor- 
tal Declaration of American Independence 
had been proclaimed just three-quarters of 
a century ago. From Philadelphia he 
went to Baltimore, where he was escorted 
to his hotel by a vast concourse of people, 
and a long line of military. The city 
council had voted resolutions expressive of 
their sympathy with the exiles, and with 
their struggles for independence, and had 
sent to New York an address welcoming 
Kossuth and his companions. Kossuth 
now, therefore, in the hall of the Maryland 
Institute, expressed his thanks to the citi- 
zens of Baltimore. 

He reached Washington on the thirtieth 
of December, where a committee consisting 
of Senators Seward, Cass, and Shields, had 
been appointed to officially' welcome him 
to the nation's capital. The secretary of 
state, Daniel Webster, was among the first 
to visit Kossuth, and to mark his respect 
for him. When asked, a few days later, 
what he thought of the Hungarian exile, 
he replied: "Ha has tho manners of a 
kitif; — his is a roj/al nature." 

The following day, after the president's 
levee, the rooms of Kossuth were crowded 
with visitors, citizens and dignitaries, who 
came, not only to see the man whose fame 
had filled two hemispheres, but to honor 
the noble cause he represented. On the 
sixth of January, Kossuth dined with the 
president of the United States, and other 
high officials, at the executive mansion. 
He was also invited to an audience given 
by the president to the Indian delegations 
from the far west. On the seventh, the 
congress of the United States invited him 
to the capitol, an honor which had never 
before been bestowed upon any individual, 
excepting Lafayette. The galleries and 
lobbies were crowded with ladies, and as he 
entered, the members of tho house all rose, 
while the chairman of the committee intro- 
duced him in these words : 



" Mr. Speaker, I have the honor on the 
part of the committee, to present Governor 
Louis Kossuth to the house of represent- 
atives." 

To which the speaker replied : 

" As the organ of this body, I have the 
honor to extend to Louis Kossuth a 
cordial welcome to the house of represent- 
atives." 

Kossuth then said : 

"Sir, it is a remarkable fact in the his- 
tory of mankind, that while, through all 
the past, honors were bestowed upon glory, 
and glory was attached only to success, the 
legislative authorities of this great rejiub- 
lic bestow honors upon a persecuted exile, 
not conspicuous by glorj', not favored by- 
success, but engaged in a just cause. 
There is a triumph of republican princi- 
ples in this fact. Sir, I thank in my own 
and my country's name, the house of rep- 
resentatives of the United States, for the 
honor of this cordial welcome." 

After he had taken the seat prepared 
for liim, the house was adjourned, to 
allow those who had assembled to witness 
this introduction to be presented to Kos- 
suth. 

In the evening, a banquet was given 
him by the members of both houses of 
congress, presided over by Hon. W. R. 
King, vice-president of the L^nited States. 
Kossuth was placed at his right hand, and 
Daniel Webster, secretary of state, at his 
left. The speaker of the house sat at 
Kossuth's side. This was indeed a great 
occasion for Kossuth, and nobly did he 
bear himself. Senators, judges, diplomats, 
military and naval dignitaries, and cabinet 
ministers, were there to do him honor. 
After the health of the president, and of 
the judiciary of the United States, had 
been given, Judge Wayne of the supreme 
court proposed : " Constitutional liberty to 
all the nations of the earth, supported by 
Christian faith and the morality of the 
Bible;" a toast which was enthusiastically 
received. The presiding officer then gave : 
"Hungary, represented in the person of 
our honored guest ; having proved herself 
worthy to be free, by the virtues and valor 



590 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187C. 



of lier sons, the law of nations and the 
dictates of justice alike demand that she 
shall have fair play in her struggle fur 
indepeiidence." Kossuth replied in a long 
and eloquent speech. The secretary of 
state, in his speech, gave an authorized 
assurance of President Fillmore's '-kind- 
ness and good wishes toward the guest of 
the nation." and also expressed his own 
high ap|ircciatioii of Kossuth, his country 
and his cause. Other speeches were made 
h^' the great orators of the nation there 
assembled, and nothing could exceed the 
magnificence of this occasion, in respect 
to tlie character and fame of tliose in 
attendance, the splendor of the intel- 
lectual efforts of the speakers, and the 
sumptuousness of the banquet in its ma- 
terial aspects. 

To the far west, the south, and again to 
the east, Kossuth extended his tour, plead- 
ing the cause of his down-trodden country, 
and receiving honors and distinctions, such 
as a king might covet, from one end of the 
broad land to the other. Cities gave him 
the freedom of tlieir municipalities ; legis- 
latures and governors invited him to the 
capitals of their states ; and the people 
everywhere rushed to welcome him. But 
in one thing, Kossuth was bitterl3' disap- 
pointed, namely, in not securing the active 
interference of the United States in behalf 
of his country's rights. With all his vast 
powers of eloquence and logic, in demon- 
strating the law of nations in this regard, 
he invoked the strong arm of the Ameri- 
can republic to interpose for Hungarian 
nationality. But, though willing to pro- 
claim to the whole world, sympathy and 
accord with the Hungarian movement, the 
American government felt obliged to re- 
frain from any acts of positive interven- 
tion, as contrary to national usage and 
policy. 

After remaining in the United States 
about six months, during which he made 
nearly three hundred speeches, about one 
hundred of which were elaborate orations, 
Kossuth departed for England. A patri- 
otic fund which had been raised in Amer- 
ica for the cause ho advocated, was 



intrusted to him for the service of liis 
country ; but, after watching for many 
years the jwlitical skies of Europe, and 
bringing to bear all the resources of his 
fertile mind upon the questions and events 
affecting the destiny of his country, he at 
last saw the once brightened horizon of his 
beloved father-land settle in the hopeless 
darkness of confirmed and accepted Aus- 
trian rule. 

In liis appearance and manner.«, while a 
visitor to this country, Kossuth was de- 
scribed by those who enjoyed friquent 
opportunities of personal contact, as being 
five feet eight inches in height, with a 
rather slight frame, and a face expressive 
of a penetrating intellect — long, with a 
broad forehead, and the chin narrow, but 
square in its form. His hair thin in front, 
and of a dark brown, the ."^ame as his 
beard, which was quite long, but not very 
thick, and arranged with neatness and 
taste. He wore a moustache, heavy and 
somewhat long. His eyes, very large and 
of a light blue, well set beneath a full and 
arched brow ; comidexion pale, occasioned, 
doubtless, by his long captivity- and inces- 
sant application. His countenance was 
characterized by an aspect of almost niel- 
ancholj' earnestness, of refinement, and of 
gentleness, mingled witli manly fire, and 
an air of prompt, decisive action. 

In speaking, nothing could lie more 
incomparably dignified and graceful than 
Kossuth's manner; gestures more admira- 
ble and effective, and a play of countenance 
more magnetic and winning, could not be 
conceived. He always stood quite erect, 
instead of frequently bending forward, as 
is the case with .some orators, to give 
emphasis to a sentence. His posture and 
appearance in repose indicated greatness, 
by their essential grace and dij;nity, and 
impressed the beholder with a sense of 
marked individuality and power. This 
sense of reserved power in the man — (he 
certainty that he was not making an effort 
and doing his utmost, but that beliind all 
this strength of fascination, there were 
other treasures of ability not brought into 
notice, and perhaps never made use of^ 



GREAT AND IVEEMORABLE EVENTS. 



591 



constituted one of the great charms of his 
oratory. He spoke as if with little prepa- 
ration, and with that peculiar freshness 
which belongs to extemporaneous speak- 
ing ; every movement seemed perfectly 



easj-, and he gesticulated a good deal, 
equallj' well with either arm. The uni- 
versal remark concerning him in this 
respect was, that he was the greatest of 
living orators. 



LXIX. 

NAVAL EXPEDITION TO JAPAN, UNDER COMMODORE 

M. C. PERRY.— 1852. 



Negotiations to lie Opened for Unsealing the Ports of tlint Fmpir« to America. — Letter of Friendsliip 
from tlie President of the United .States to tlie Kniperor. — I)cstin;;iiished Kavor Shown tlie Hepresen- 
tatives of the Great Hepuhlic. — Ceremonies, Kntertainments. and Diplomatic Conferences — Trenly 
of Peace, Amity, and Commercial Intercourse Concludeil — Koriner .Japanese Isolation Policy. — K.xclu- 
sive Privileiies to the Dutch. — Kllects of this restriction. — Kuropeiin KtTurls to Cluin;re it. — Mission 
of Conimoiiore liiildle. — Seeks the Helease of United States Sailors. — Ordered to Depart Forth- 
with. — Firm Conduct of Captain Glynn. — Contempt for Japanese P^tiquette. — Champagne as a 
Mediator. — Commodore Perry's Fine Fleet. — The Letter in a Golden Box — Its Presentation to the 
Emperor. — Commissioners Meet Commodore Perry. — Their Attire, .Manners, Etc — The Conference 
in Session. — Frendliness of the Japanese. — Civilities and Festivals. — Reception on the Flag-Ship — 
Substance of the Treaty. — A Talk with the luuperor. — More Privileges E.\tended. 



" T hare dirortort Commo(ii>re Perry to nuiire Tniir imperial miypnty thot I entertain the Vindfut feelinp" towiird* yonr mnjentr** penon 
and soverninciit. kthI that I liuvr no othvr nbjifct in ^enilini; liiiii to Jitpim but ti> promiai- to ,voiir iiniH-nul iiiiijf«ty thai the t iiltrd sutca 
and Japan Khould live in frioodahip aitd have cummtrciul iutercuuroc with tach other. —The rlESlucRT's Lktteb to the tufkBult. 



7 APANESE seclusion from the rest of the nations of the enrth, .ind especially 

from the governments representing the same, seemed, for centu- 

rie.<, to be an irritating problem, defying the utmost ingenuity 

and skill of diplotnac}' to solve ; and the various attempts, made 

by different governments, to break through this impenetrable 

barrier of isolation, were, until a period comparatively recent, 

completely abortive, — the only approach to anything deserving 

the name of commercial intercourse with that country being a 

restricted privilege to trade at one or two points, granted for a 

time to the Portuguese, and subsequently to the 

Dutch, but, in each case, upon conditions most 

humiliating to the parties thus favored by the 

■Japanese. 

l^ut it is a fact which would seem not to 
admit of any doubt, that tliis practice of jeal- 
ous seclusion is fostered rather by the ruling 
classes, than by the masses of the peojde. and, 
therefore, foreign nations have felt all the 
more justified in endeavoring to break down a 
policy so manifestly at war with the rights 
;md interests of the human race. Providence 
._ "•'^S--^^~- C "■ " having bestowed the whole earth on the cliil- 

TREATv OF PE.vcE, AMirv, ETC. drcH of meu, such isolation is defeating alto- 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



593 



gethei' that beneficent purpose ; for, should 
other nations follow the example of Japan, 
and refuse to communicate with their 
neighbors, there would be an end of all 
commerce, of all progress, of all civiliza- 
tion, — industry would be smitten with 
paralysis, and men would regard the inhab- 
itants of adjoining countries as enemies. 

Of the efforts put forth by European 
nations to establish commercial and politi- 
cal fraternity with Japan, no rehearsal 
need be here made. On the part of the 
United States, negotiations were under- 
taken during the administration of Presi- 
dent Polk, through Commodore Biddle, 
but with no success of a permanent char- 
acter. The commodore had been espe- 
cially charged with the duty of bringing 
home several American sailors, who, having 
escaped from the wreck of their whale-ship, 
succeeded in reaching the Japanese coast, 
but were forthwith imprisoned. As illus- 
trating the rules and conduct of the singu- 
lar people into whose good graces the com- 
modore thus essayed to propitiate himself, 
tlie following circumstances, as related by 
Mr. Secretary' Kennedy and others, will 
both amuse and instruct, and form a fit pre- 
liminary to the account of Commodore Per- 
ry's subsequent visit : — • 

As soon as Commodore Biddle had an- 
chored in the bay of Yeddo, a junk, with 
the officials of the empire, came out to his 
ship, having with them a Dutch inter- 
preter. Biddle told the dignitaries that 
the vessels came with good will, to learn 
whether Japan had, like China, opened 
her ports to foreign trade ; and, if she 
had, to negotiate a treaty of commerce. 
The dignitaries requested that this state- 
ment should be reduced to writing, for 
transmission to the higher authorities. 
He also stated that all needed supplies 
would be furnished, but refused any per- 
mission to land. In about a week, an offi- 
i-er with a suite of eight persons came on 
lioard with the emperor's letter, which 
read thus : " According to the Japanese 
laws, the Japanese may not trade except 
with the Dutch and Chinese. It will not 
lie allowed that America make a treaty 
38 



with Japan or trade with her, as the same 
is not allowed with any other nation. 
Concerning strange lands, all things are 
fixed at Nagasaki, but not here in the 
bay ; therefore j'ou must depart as quick 
as possible, and not come any more to 
Japan." Biddle's instructions being not 
to do anything " to excite a hostile feeling, 
or distrust to the United States," he was 
compelled to refrain from any compulsory 
proceedings. 

It so happened, that when the junk, 
with the officials, made the visit to the 
commodore's vessel, as above described, 
one of the American officers stepped on 
board ; but, in consequence of his having 
violated Japanese etiquette bv boarding a 
government junk before the official bell 
had been rung, a Japanese knocked him 
overboard, and the junk returned to the 
shore. The officer, very naturally thinking 
himself badly used, demanded an apology. 
The next day, therefore, the commodore 
received a message stating that the Jap- 
anese who had knocked the American over 
the gangway, would be sent on board with 
his father and mother, brothers and sis- 
ters, grandmother, wife, and wife's sister, 
and that they would all rip themselves 
open before the captain, for his satisfac- 
tion. But the captain did not want to 
witness that sort of satisfaction, and, as 
he could not ascertain anything about the 
prisoners, he set sail for home. The Jap- 
anese entertained a very poor opinion of 
the American people, in consequence of 
the conduct of the captain on that occasion 
• — a nation, they thought, that would not 
allow men to rip themselves open, must be 
a nation of cowards. The next squadron 
to Japan was directed by Captain Glynn, 
who determined to make an exann)le of the 
Japanese. 

As soon, therefore, as the American ship 
approached the shore, a junk came off to 
her, and, when near enough, a parchment 
was extended towards the ship's officers 
on a reed. The captain took the parch- 
ment and threw it into the water. In an 
instant, four or five Japanese jumped over- 
board and recovered the parchment, be- 



594 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



cause, as the captain was told afterward-s, 
the}' would have been ripped open if the 
parciiment liad been lost. As the anchor- 
age usually allotted to foreigners did not 
please Captain Glynn, he moved towards 
a more convenient haven. Suddenlj', a 
voice in the junk shouted, " You must go 
no f urder — you must go no furdor I " The 
captain, on hearing his own language, said 
to the speaker, " Y''ou are the very man I 
want." He liove to and got the man on 
deck. "Who are j-ou, sir?" asked the 
captain. " I am the interpreter,'' said he. 
" Are you one of the big men of this 
country ? " asked Glynn. He answered 
in the negative, but told the captain that 
he must go no nearer the shore, as it was 
contrary to the Japanese laws to do so. 




^^e. 



" Stranger," said the captain, " I'll go just 
where I please, and I don't mean to speak 
to any one on the island under the prince 
or governor." So, onward he sailed, till 
he came to a place that suited him, where 
he dropped his anchor. Next day the 
prince of the district, with a great 
cortege, consisting of about fifty men in 
yellow robes, was seen walking along the 
shore. 

They soon entered a junk, and ap- 
proached the ship. The yellow men 
entered first, and as soon as they did so 
they put their heads to the deck and kept 
them there. When the great functionary 
entered, instead of going aft, as is the 
practice with Americans, he walked for- 
ward. Glynn went up to him, clapped 



him on the shoulder, and said, "Look you 
here, friend, you must come the other 
way." Tlie Japanese officers and men 
were astonished at this audacious famil- 
iarity of the American.s, and thouglit that 
their prince was going to be martyred. It 
is customary in Japanese state junks, to 
have an elevated i)latforni forward, and 
that is the place of honor. The Japanese 
officer was surprised, therefore, on going 
on the quarter-tleck of the strange ship, to 
see that no platform had been provided ; 
and so, after looking round for the seat of 
honor, he went to tlie helm and ju-rched 
himself on the rudder post. Glynn sent 
for a chair, and pointed to it, and in 
language which, though not to be found in 
manuals of politeness, was at least very 
perspicuous, bade him put himself into it. 
"Now," said he, turning to the interpreter, 
"tell him that ! " The interpreter replied 
that he could not do so, as such a remark 
from him would insure his being ripped 
ojien on the spot. The captain told him 
that if he didn't obey him he would blow 
his brains out. So the interpreter, as a 
choice of evils, com])lied with the com- 
mand. As soon as the jirince had seated 
himself, the captain ordered a bottle of 
sherry wine, of which he offered him a 
glass. The interpreter said, "the prince 
never drinks." "He is with me now, and 
he mxst drink," replied Glynn. The 
prince put the glass to his lips, but did 
not drink the liquor. The captain then 
turned round to the interpreter and asked, 
"Will you have it?" He replied in the 
negative. The captain then offered cbain- 
pagne. When the prince saw how it 
sparkled, his scruples vanished, and he 
drank it off. The captain filled another 
and yet anotlier glass, which the jjrince 
enjoyed infinitely. When the captain saw- 
that he had pleased the i)rince, he told 
him, thnnigh tlie interpreter, that he had 
come for the American prisoners, and they 
must be given up immediately. Tin- 
prince said forty days would be requireil 
to send to Yeddo for them. Glynn replied, 
"I must sail in three days, and 1 must 
have them then." After some demur, 



I 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



595 



four days were allowed, at which time the 
prisoners were returned. 

In dispatching the expedition under 
Commodore Perrj', the object of the 
United States government was to obtain 
some definite stipulations, in the form of a 
treaty, for mutual commercial transactions, 
between the two countries ; and, in order 
to suitably impress the Japanese with the 
serious character of the movement, the 
fleet sent out was composed of some of the 
finest and most formidable ships in the 
American navy, carrying a large number 
of sailors and marines, and more than the 
usual comjslement of guns, mostly heavy 
ordnance. Each of the steamers mounted 
a couple of Paixhan shell-guns, of the 
largest caliber, and placed on revolving 
trucks, so as to sweep the horizon, — these 
guns being intended to be used for the 
discharge of shells of sixty-eight and one 
hundred and twenty pounds each, and 
long forty-twos, making twenty-two guns 
to each steamer. Every ship was jarovided 
with two brass twenty-four-pound field 
pieces. 

With this splendid display of naval 
power, Commodore Perry sailed from the 
United States, in the steamship Missis- 
sippi, November 24, 1862, touched at 
Madeira and the Cape of Good Hope, 
reached Hong Kong in April, 1853, and 
thence sailed for Japan. After uniting 
all the vessels of the squadron, Perrj', 
leading the fleet in the flag-ship Susque- 
hanna, made Cape Idzu on the eighth of 
July. Their first anchorage and inter- 
course with the natives was near the town 
of Uraga. On the fourteenth. Prince 
Iwami gave Commodore Perry a formal 
reception on shore, and took charge of the 
president's letter to the emperor. 

This letter, which was written by Hon. 
Edward Everett, secretary of state, and 
signed by President Fillmore, was beauti- 
fully engrossed on parchment and depos- 
ited in a gold-mounted box of superb 
workmanship and costing a thousand dol- 
lars. The excellent spirit in which it was 
couched will appear from the opening sen- 
tences, namely : " Great and Good Friend : 



I send you this public letter by Commo- 
dore Matthew C. Perry, an officer of the 
highest rank in the navy of the United 
States, and commander of the squadron 
now visiting your imperial majesty's 
dominions. I have directed Commodore 
Perry to assure your imperial majesty that 
I entertain the kindest feelings towards 
your majesty's person and government, 
and that I have no other object in sending 
him to Jajsan but to propose to your 
imjjerial majesty that the United States 
and Japan should live in friendship and 
have commercial intercourse with each 
other. The Constitution and laws of the 
United States forbid all interference with 
the religious or political concerns of other 
nations. I have jjarticiilarly chai-ged 
Commodore Perry to abstain from every 
act which could possibly disturb the tran- 
quillity of your imperial majesty's domin- 
ions ; " etc. In this friendly and respect- 
ful strain was the whole of the presidential 
letter written. 

Abundant time having been given the 
Japanese authorities to decide upon what 
course they would pursue, the American 
squadron, which had temporarily with- 
drawn, now re-ajjpeared in the bay of 
Yeddo. As soon as they had anchored, a 
number of Japanese officers went on board 
the flag-ship to welcome the commodore 
and his officers back, and to inform him 
that preparations had been made for his 
reception at Uraga, where an answer from 
the emperor to the 25resident's letter would 
be delivered to him, and begged that he 
would move his squadron down to that 
place. To this, the commodore, through 
the captain of the fleet, jieremjatorily re- 
fused to accede, on the ground that the 
anchorage there was too much exposed at 
such a season of the year, and even inti- 
mated that he might have to go up to 
Yeddo, the imperial capital ! 

Several days passed in fruitless argu- 
ments on the part of the Japanese to 
induce the commodore to yield this point. 
In the meantime, the surveying party had 
been actively employed, and, as the Jap- 
anese began to assume an independent 



596 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



and intractable tone, a signal was thrown 
out and the squadron moved up the bay, 
to a position ten or twelve miles above the 
' American Anchorage,' and in front of the 
city of Kanagawa. Boats were immedi- 
ately dispatched to make further examina- 
tions of the channel in the direction of the 
capital ; but before they returned, the dig- 
nitaries from Uraga arrived, and, forget- 
ting their pertinacious obstinacy of a few 
hours previously, good-humoredly begged 
that an officer might be sent with them to 
select a suitable anchorage and place of 
reception somewhere in the vicinity of 
where the squadron lay. The commodore 
iissenting to this, the village of Yoko- 
hama was chosen on account of the excel- 
lent shelter afforded by its harbor. 

The scjuadron then present, consisting 
of the steam-frigates Powhatan, Susque- 
hanna, and Mississippi, sloops-of-war Mac- 
edonian, Vundalia, and Saratoga, and 
store-ships Southampton and Lexington, 
anchored in a line off the town, and the 
Japanese set to work with a will to erect 
suitable buildings for the conferences. 

On the eighth of Marcli, the accommo- 
dations being completed, the commodore, 
by appointment, landed with a suite of 
officers and an escort of five hundred sea- 
men and marines. He was received by 
five commissioners appointed by the em- 
peror to confer with him, consisting of the 
supreme counselor, the prince of Tsa- 
Sinia, the i)riuce of Minii-Saki, a member 
of the board of revenue, and one other 
officer of high rank. The seamen and 
marines were all armed, and, with drums 
beating, colors flying, bands playing at 
intervals, and salutes fired on the arrival 
of the officials, the scene was indeed a 
striking one. Thousands of Japanese sol- 
diers crowded the shore and neighboring 
heights, looking on with curious interest. 
The house was a plain frame-building, 
containing one large room — the audience 
hall — and several smaller ones for the con- 
venience of attendants, etc. The floor 
was covered with mats, and very prettily 
painted screens adorned the sides. Long 
tables and benches, covered with red 



woolen stuff, placed parallel to each other, 
three handsome braziers, filled with burn- 
ing charcoal, on the floor between them, 
and a few violet-colored crape hangings 
suspended from the ceiling, completed the 
furniture of the room. The Americans 
took their seats at one of the tables, and 
the Japanese commissioners placed them- 
selves at the other table opposite ; while 
behind them both, seated on the floor on 
their knees — their usual position, as they 
do not use chairs — was a crowd of Jap 
anese officers, forming the train of the 
commissioners. The business was carried 
on in the Dutch language, through inter- 
preters. 

First of all, after an exchange of com- 
jiliments, the communication from the 
enijieror to the president of the United 
States was delivered in due form by the 
commissioners, and then they expressed 
themselves prepared to commence discus- 
sions upon the various points contained in 
the president's letter, and also to receive 
any further propositions that might be 
made, — the commissioners stating that, in 
the determination of the emperor to make 
some modification in their laws of seclu- 
sion, he relied upon the friendly disposi- 
tion of the Americans towards Japan, and, 
as such negotiations were entirely novel 
to them, they would trust with confidence 
to the commodore's superior experience, 
to his generosity, and his sense of justice. 
A real desire was manifested by the Jap- 
anese to cultivate friendly feelings with 
their guests; in fact, the general bearing 
of the people had already convinced the 
Americans that Jaiianese distrust of them 
had measurably worn away. 

Refreshments were served in elegantly 
lacquered dishes — first of all, tea, which, as 
in China, is the constant beverage; then 
different kinds of candy and sponge cake; 
and, lastly, oranges, and a palatable liquor, 
distitle<l from rice, and called .saki. What 
was left on their plates, by the Americans, 
at the close, was wrapped in j)aper, and 
given them to carry away, according to 
the usual custom in Ja])an. The commis- 
sioners were intelligent looking men. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE E\rENTS. 



597 



riclilj dressed in gay, silk petticoat panta- 
loons, and upper garments resembling in 
shape ladies' short gowns. Dark-colored 
stockings, and two elegant swords, pushed 
through a twisted silk girdle, finished the 
costume. Straw sandals are worn, but are 
always slipped off on entering the house. 
They do not cover the head, the tojj and 
front part of which is shaved, and the 
back and side hair, being brought up, is 
tied so as to form a tail, three or four 
inches long, that extends forward upon the 
bald pate, terminating about half way 
between the apex and the forehead; this is 



beautiful locomotive, tender, and passenger 
car, one-fourth the ordinary size, also a 
mile of magnetic telegraph, the operations 
of which were exhibited on shore. These 
excited a great deal of interest among the 
Japanese, particularly the telegraph, when 
they came to comprehend its utility in the 
transmission of intelligence, communica- 
tions being made in their presence in the 
English, Japanese, and Dutch languages. 
They were also delighted with the railroad, 
when they saw the engine and car flying 
along the track at the rate of twenty miles 
an hour, but thought it would be impossi- 




NAVAL EXPEDITION TO JAPAN UNDER COMMODORE M. C. PERRY. 



a very comfortable fashion, and, were it 
not for the quantity of grease used in it, 
would be a cleanly one. 

The negotiations proceeded harmoni- 
ously, but, on account of the exacting cer- 
emony peculiar to the Japanese,' very 
slowly. Thus, a question proposed had to 
pass first through the interpreters, and 
then through several officers ascending in 
rank, before it could reach the commis- 
sioners, every one bowing his head to the 
floor before he addressed his superiors. 
Among the presents intended for the 
emperor was a small railroad track, with a 



ble to construct them to advantage in 
Japan, owing to the very uneven surface 
of the country ! 

The policy of the commodore had been, 
on both this and his former visit, to ob- 
serve a strict exclusiveness, and the Jap- 
anese were, on all occasions, given to 
understand that, with a desire on the part 
of the Americans to establish friendly 
relations, no unworthy restrictions or 
exactions would be submitted to; that 
they came among them not to beg, but to 
dispense favors ; that, conscious of the 
power of their government, they were, 



598 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



nevertheless, desirous of meeting them on 
equal and honorable terms, and upon no 
other conditions whatever could they con- 
sent to hold amicable intercourse with 
them. The favorable effect of this course 
was verj' apparent ; they were glad to be 
admitted on board the ships, and the com- 
missioners offered no objections to the 
officers strolling about the country in the 
neighborhood of the anchorage. 

Wliilst the negotiations were pending, 
the commodore gave an entertainment to 
the commissioners, on board the flag-ship. 
They also visited other vessels of the squad- 
ron. The engines of the steamers were 
put in motion, that their operation might 
be witnessed. The ships' (•omi)anies were 
drilled at general quarters, and attention 
was called to the caliber of the heavy 
guns in use among western nations. 
Their usual stoicism and self-possession 
were not proof against such novelties, 
and they were unable to withhold their 
admiration and surprise. During the 
entertainment, toasts to the em[>eror and 
the jiresident were drank with all the 
honors, tlic guests did ample justice 
to the sumptuous dinner, and the com- 
pany did not disperse until a very late 
liour. 

At length, after much diplomacy on the 
part of the Japanese, — the Americans 
strenuously refusing to accept any propo- 
sition to go to Nagasaki, — a treaty of 
amity, peace, and commerce, was agreed 
to and ratified, three copies in Japanese 
being delivered to Commodore Perry, and 
three copies in English, signed by himself, 
with Dutch and Chinese translations, be- 
ing ilelivered to tlie imperial commission- 
ers. Article first of the treaty established 
peace and amity between the United 
States and Japan ; article second assigned 
the ports of Simoda, in tlte principality of 
Idzu, and of Ilakodadi, in the princijiality 
of Matsmai, for the reception of American 
ships, and where the^^ might obtain wood, 
water, provisions, and coal, payment to be 
made in gold and silver; articles third, 
fourth, fifth, and sixth, provide for good 
treatment, security to property', etc., in the 



case of American vessels and crews ship- 
wrecked on the coast; article seventh pro- 
vided that ships of the United States 
resorting to the ports opened to them, 
should bo permitted to exchange gold and 
silver coin, and articles of gooils, for other 
articles of goods, under such regulations as 
the Japane.-ie government might tempora- 
rily establish for that purpose, it being 
also stipulated that the ships of the United 
States should be permitted to carry away 
whatever articles they received in ex- 
change. These articles were the most 
important embraced in the treaty, which 
was signed ^lanh 31, 1854. The treaty 
privileges thus obtained bj- Commodore 
Perry for the United States, were the 
most liberal and advantageous of any 
wiiich, up to that time, had been accorded 
l)y Japan to a foreign people ; but the 
same or equal privileges were afterwards 
I)ermitted to other nations, and, subse- 
quently, new treaties were made with the 
United States, greatly enlarging the lib- 
erty of trade. 

As alreatly stated above, one of the arti- 
cles of the treaty gave to citizens of the 
United States the right of free access to 
the two Japanese ports of Simoda and 
Hakodadi, and, with this, unrestricted 
libert}' in the surrounding country em- 
braced by a radius of about si.xteen English 
miles. These, with some other stipula- 
tions of a certain character, it was thought 
desirable to make a practical test of, before 
the departure of the squadron from the 
waters of Japan. 

Accordingly, a few days after the con- 
clusion of the treaty, which were occupied 
in completing the surveys on hand of por- 
tions of Yeddo Bay, the ships sailed for 
Simodii, it being a short distance to the 
.south ^nd westward, — a cajiital harbor, 
and surrounded by a iliurniing and highly 
cultivated country. Accustomed to a .sys- 
tem iif unrelenting espionage, it required 
mucli patience and address to bring the 
inhabitants to a proper appreciation of the 
new condition of things ; but in a short 
time, however, the movements of the 
officers and men about the city and coun- 



GREAT ^VND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



599 



try became as unhampered and safe as in 
any part of the United States. 

After making an accurate survey of the 
iiarbor and its approaches, the squadron 
sailed for Hakodadi ; and, although six 
weeks had elapsed since the signing of the 
treaty, the authorities protested that they 
had heard nothing of it, and consequently 
nothing of the intended visit of the squad- 
ron, and gave as an evidence that the 
women and children had all fled to the 
interior, frightened at the approach of the 
ships off the harbor. On delivering a 
letter from the commissioners, however, 
and showing them the treaty, their anxi- 
ety was at once allayed, and all were very 
kindly received. The deputies dispatched 
from Yeddo, by the commissioners, to 
meet the commodore at Hokodadi, did not 
arrive till he was on the eve of sailing, 
and stated that they had been upwards of 
fifty days on the road, although the dis- 
tance by the air line was less than four 
hundred miles. Still, the intercourse with 
the authorities and inhabitants had been 
very satisfactory, and the parting was one 
of sincere mutual regret. 

The subsequent treaty, made by Mr. 
Townsend Harris, United States consul- 
general at Japan, secured several addi- 
tional ports to American commerce. Mr. 
Harris was in direct contact with the 
emperor, at Yeddo, during a portion of the 
time employed in negotiating this treaty, 
— a contact as interesting as it was unique. 
Mr. Harris states that after passing 
through the various fortified gateways, up 
to the gate of the palace itself, he was 
received at the entrance by two chamber- 
lains, who conducted him to an apartment 
where a chair had been placed for his use. 
Tea, bon-bons, and other refreshments, 
were offered, and a large number of princes 
came to be presented to him. Passing 
through a large hall, in which some three 
or four hundred nobles of the empire, all 
dressed in their court costume, were kneel- 
ing, all silent and motionless as statues, 
Mr. Harris entered the supreme audience 



chamber. At this moment, a chamberlain 
called out, ' Merrican Embassador,' and 
then the prince of Sinano threw himself 
down and crawled along, as the consul 
walked in. Advancing up the room, and 
making three bows as he proceeded, Mr. 
Harris halted at the head of two lines of 
men, who were prostrate on their faces ; 
those on the right were members of the 
council of state, with the prince of Bittsu 
at their head, and those on the left were 
brothers of the emperor. 

His majesty was seated on a chair 
placed on a dais, elevated some three feet 
above the floor of the chamber. He was 
dressed in j'ellow silk, and wore a black 
lacquered cap of indescribable peculiarity. 
After a short pause, the consul made an 
address to the emperor ; and, after a simi- 
lar pause, his majestj' replied in a clear 
and pleasant voice. At the close of the 
emperor's siJeech, the consul's secretary 
passed the president's letter intended for 
the emperor to Mr. Harris ; the latter 
removed the silk cover — striped, red and 
w hite, — opened the box, and displayed the 
writing to the prince of Bittsu, who now 
stood up, and then, closing the box, Mr. 
Harris handed it to the prince, who placed 
it on a lacquered stand, prepared for the 
purpose. The prince again became pros- 
trate, and then the emperor bowed to the 
consul, smiling pleasantly as he did so. 
This ended the audience, and Mr. Harris re- 
tired from the room, still facing the empe- 
ror, and making the customary three bows. 

From the audience chamber, the consul 
was taken to another room, where the 
great councilors of state congratulated 
him on the interview just held, and ex- 
jjressed much wonder and astonishment at 
what they called his ' greatness of heart.' 
On asking their meaning, they told the 
consul that they were filled with admira- 
tion to see him stand erect, look the awful 
'tycoon' in the face, speak plainly to him, 
hear his reply — and all this without any 
trepidation, or any ' quivering of the mus- 
cles of the side ! ' 



LXX. 

EXHIBITION OF THE INDUSTRY OF ALL NATIONS, IN 

NEW YORK.— 1853. 



Construction of the Crystal Palace, a Colossal Building of Glass and Iron. — Four Acres of Surface Cov- 
ered with tlie Treasures of Art, Science, and Mechanism, from Kvery Land. — Inauguration of tlie 
Knterprise by President Pierce — Five Thousand Contributors. — Splendor of the Palace of Industry 
by Day ; Its Gorgeous Illumination at Night. — Eclat of the Great London Fair. — Emulation Stimu- 
lated Abroad. — An American Exhibition Proposed. — Popularity of the Idea. — Plan for a Building 
Accepted. — Its Style, Size, and Decorations. — Admirable Adaptation of the Structure. — Superiority 
to the London Palace. — Rapid Progress of the Enterprise — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted. 
— Programme of Management. — Brilliant Ceremony at the Opening. — Celebrities Present : Speeches 
Made. — Grand Hallelujah Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors. — Beauty, Utility, Amusement. 
— Attractions from Abroad. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful Offering. — The Grand 
Industries of Civilization — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Keflected on America. 



*' Worthy of the Ertndeet circumBtanccB which could be thrown around n human aaicmbly, worthy of thU occasion, and ■ hundred like 
this, li that beautiful idea, the CofiONATlOH or Labor."— Eliuo Bijicritt. 




INTERIOR OF THE WoKM.'H i Alit, NKW YORK. 



OLLOWING the l.rilliant and 
.successful examjile of Eui^laiid, 
in the erection of a colossal crys- 
tiil jtalaee in Hj'de Park, London, 
for a World's Fair, in 1851, — 
and into which flowed the treas- 
nres of art, science, and mechan- 
ism, from the four quarters of the 
globe, — American enter])rise con- 
ceived the idea of a similar struc- 
ture, for the exhibition of the 
industry of all nations, in the 
commercial metropolis of Amer- 
ica ; and this idea, so popular in 
view of the splenilid ecluf attend- 
ing the vast and magnificent 
display in London, was soon car- 
ried forward to a complete and 
happy consummation. 

The idea of such a grand na- 
tional display became, in a short 



GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



601 



time, the all engrossing one, from one end 
of the land to the other, and the public 
men at the seat of government urged upon 
the United States representatives at for- 
eign courts, a sense of the importance of 
the great enterprise, and the desirableness 
of contributions from abroad. It was 
viewed as an undertaking wliieh, if con- 
ducted with energy and sagacity, would 
add luster to the American nation, as 
showing its appreciation of the luxuries 
and refinements of art, as well as of the 
more substantial exhibitions of human 
industr}', in the shape of manufactures, 
machinery, etc. 

In one respect, the American exhibition 
differed from its London predecessor, 
namely : the latter was under the free and 
unlimited auspices of the English govern- 
ment, with its boundless resources, while 
the former was undertaken by a companj^ 
of individuals. It was not, however, an 
exclusively private speculation, but existed 
under a charter granted by the legislature, 
the company being known, in their corpo- 
rate style, as the " Association for the 
Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations," 
comprising men of eminence in all the 
influential spheres of society, and of this 
Association. Mr. Theodore Sedgwick re- 
ceived the high honor of being elected 
president. So vast and multitudinous, 
however, were the details of such an under- 
taking, that much delay attended the oper- 
ations of those charged with its active 
responsibilities. Gradually, after the en- 
countering of many formidable obstacles, 
the preliminary matter of a suitable build- 
ing was decided; and then, with instinct- 
ive American speed, the speculation in 
Crystal Palace stock at once commenced, 
and was one of the most active " fancies," 
the gains of forty and fifty per cent., as 
was in some cases experienced, being quite 
stimulating. The stock rose, at one time, 
to seventy or eighty per cent, above par. 
One gentleman, who had watched the 
building closely as it advanced in the 
course of construction, observed one day 
something which he thought might injure 
the safety of the edifice. It was only a 



fancy of his ; but, being impressed with 
it, he walked quietly into Wall street, and, 
selling out, pocketed a gain of fifteen thou- 
sand dollars. The distribution of the stock 
into so many hands, and the widely 
extended commercial interests involved, 
gained for the enterprise much of a 
national character. The public supjiort 
given by the government to its operations, 
at home and abroad, helped also to dignify 
it, and to take away the invidious reputa- 
tion which would have attached to a proj- 
ect having no higher aim than mere 
private gain. Following up this system 
of encouragement, the affair obtained the 
confidence and co-operation of all classes, 
and its consummation was looked forward 
to as one of the marked events in Ameri- 
can history. 

On the attention of foreign governments 
being called to the exhibition, His Sub- 
lime Highness, the Sultan of Turkey, was 
one of the first to respond to the appeal, 
by ordering a steam-frigate to be prepared 
for the reception and transmission of those 
splendid fabrics of the Ottoman empire — 
richly carved cabinet constructions, and 
carpets of wonderful elaboration — so much 
admired the world over. The senate of the 
United States, at once appropriated twenty 
thousand dollars, for the purpose of receiv- 
ing, in a becoming manner of appreciation, 
the frigate thus so generously dispatched 
by his oriental majesty. England sent 
commissioners, and Queen Victoria, the 
Emperor Napoleon, and other sovereigns, 
vied with each other in their personal con- 
tributions and in those from their resijeet- 
ive countries. 

Great pains were taken to obtain such a 
plan for the building as woidd present the 
highest architectural merit, and be as per- 
fectly adapted as possible to the great object 
in view. At that time, the matter of iron 
construction on a large scale was almost 
entirely new in the United States, there 
being no edifice wholly of that material to 
be found in the country, and, therefore, 
the want of experience on the part of both 
architects and engineers, presented serious 
obstacles. Many ingenious plans, liow- 



6U2 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ever, were offered, from the abridged 
account of which, as well as of the build- 
ing itself, prepared by Mr. D. A. Wells, 
it appears that Sir Joseph Paxton, the 
architect of the London structure, fur- 
nished one of singular beauty, but the 
poculiar shape of the ground to be occu- 
pied rendered it impossible to use it. Mr. 
A. J. Downing offered another, of striking 
originality, but this was also excluded by 
the peremptor}' conditions imposed by the 
city, namely, that the building should be 
exclusively of iron and glass. Another 
plan, by Mr. Eidlitz, contemplated a sus- 
pension roof, so as to obviate the difficulty 
of spanning great widths by arches. Mr. 
Bof^ardus submitt('<l a design for a circular 
building, consisting of successive colon- 




nades, placed one over tlu' oilier, somewhat 
resembling the coliseum at Hume, and 
involving a new and ingenious method of 
joining. A plan was also proposed, by 
Mr. J. W. Adams, consisting of a great 
octagonal vault or dome, supported by ribs 
made of fasces or clusters of gas-pipe. 
The presentation of so many plans, each 
of a different character, and some of them 
of great beauty and originality, made the 
task of selection very difficult. Finally, 
after much consultation, the jilan accejited 
was that of Messrs. Carstensen and Gilde- 
meister, of New York, the latter gentle- 
man being recently from Copenhagen, 
where he was well-known as the designer 
of some of the principal public works in 



that city. After tlie final adoption of a 
plan, which was in August, 1852, no time 
was lost in putting the work under way. 
The piece of ground for the erection of the 
building, in Reservoir Square, granted by 
tlie city, was somewhat unfavorable for 
architectural purposes ; but in other re- 
spects it was quite favorable, and the 
structure, when completed, was a magnifi- 
cent spectacle, its main features being as 
follows : 

With the exception of the tloor, the 
whole of this splendid palace was con- 
structed of iron and glass. The general 
idea of the edifice was a Greek cross, sur- 
mounted by a dome at the intersection, 
each diameter of the cross being three 
hundred and sixty-live feet and five inches 
long. There were three similar entrances, 
each forty-seven feet wide, and approached 
by flights of steps. Over each front was 
a large semi-circular fan-light, forty-one 
feet wide and twenty-one feet high, an- 
swering to the arch of the nave. Each 
arm of the cross was on the ground plan 
one hundred and forty-nine feet broad. 
This was divided into a central nave and 
two aisles, on each side, the nave forty-one, 
and each aisle fifty-four feet wide. The 
central portion, or nave, was carried up to 
the height of sixty-seven feet, and the 
semi-circular arch which spanned it was 
forty-one feet broad. There were thus, in 
effect, two arched naves crossing each 
other at right angles, forty-one feet broad, 
sixty-seven feet high to the crown of the 
arch, and three hundred and sixty-five feet 
long; and, on each side of these naves, an 
aisle fifty-four feet broad and forty-five 
feet high. The exterior of the ridgeway 
of the nave was seventy-one feet. Each 
aisle was covered by a gallery of its own 
width, and twenty-four feet from the floor. 
The central dome was one hundred feet in 
diameter, sixty-eight feet inside from the 
floor to the spring of the arch, one hun- 
dred and eighteen feet to the crown, and, 
on the outside, with the lantern, one hun- 
dred and forty-nine feet. The exterior 
angles of the building were ingeniously 
filled up with a triangular lean-to, twenty- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



603 



four feet high, which gave the ground phxn 
an octagonal shape, each side or face being 
one hundred and forty-nine feet wide. At 
each angle was an octagonal tower, eight 
feet in diameter and seventy-five feet 
high. 

Ten large, and eight winding staircases, 
connected the principal floor with the gal- 
lery, which opened on the three balconies 
situated over the entrance halls, affording 
ample space for flower decorations, statues, 
vases, etc. The building contained, on the 
ground floor-, one hundred and eleven 
thousand square feet of space, and in its 
galleries, of fifty-four feet width, sixty-two 
thousand square feet more, making a total 
area of one hundred and seventy-three 
thousand square feet, for the purposes of 
exhibition; being a total, within an incon- 
siderable fraction, of four acres. 

There were on the ground floor of this 
wonderful structure, one hundred and 
ninety octagonal cast-iron columns, twenty- 
one feet above the floor, and eight inches 
diameter, cast hollow, of different thick- 
nesses, from half an inch to one inch. 
These columns received the cast-iron gird- 
ers, the latter being twenty-six feet long 
and three feet high, and served to sustain 
the galleries and the wrought-iron con- 
struction of the roof, as well as to brace 
the whole structure in every direction. 
The girdei's, as well as the second-story 
columns, were fastened to the columns in 
the first story, by connecting pieces of the 
same octagonal shape as the columns, three 
feet four inches high. The number of 
lower floor girders was two hundred and 
fifty-two, besides twelve wrought - iron 
girders of the same height, and forty-one 
feet span over a part of the nave. The 
second story contained one hundred and 
forty-eight columns, of the same shape as 
those below, and seventeen feet seven 
inches high. These received another tier 
of girders, numbering one hundred and 
sixty, for the support of the roofs of the 
aisles. 

The dome, noble and beautiful in its 
proportions, constituted the chief architect- 
ural feature of the building. Its diame- 



ter, one hundred feet, and its height — 
nearly seventy feet to the springing line, 
and one hundred and twenty-three to the 
crown of the arch — made it the largest, 
and, with one or two exceptions, the only 
scientifically constructed dome in the 
United States ; a dome of oriental charac- 
teristics, in its light and graceful beauty, 
— seemingly borne in upon a zephyr, and 
capable of being lifted away by a breath, 
—floating over the whole structure, pure 
and fascinating, like an aerial grace. 

Twenty -four columns supported the 
dome, the columns rising to the second 
stoiy, and to a height of sixty-two feet 
above the principal floor. The sj'stem of 
wrought-iron trusses which connected them 
together, and was supported by them, 
formed two eccentric polygons, each of 
sixteen sides; these received a cast-iron 
bed-plate, to which the cast-iron shoes for 
the ribs of the dome were bolted, the latter 
being constructed of two curves of double 
angle-iron, securely connected together by 
trellis-work, the requisite steadiness being 
secured by tie-rods, which braced them 
both vertically and horizontally. At the 
top, the ribs were bolted to a horizontal 
ring of wrought and cast iron, having a 
diameter of twenty feet in clear, and sur- 
mounted by the lantern. As in the other 
roofs of the building, the dome was cased 
with matched deal and tin sheathing, light 
being communicated to the interior 
through the lantern, and also in part from 
the sides, pierced for thirty-two orna- 
mental windows, these being glazed with 
stained glass one-eighth of an inch thick, 
and representing the arms of the Union 
and of its several States, — a feature which 
formed no inconsiderable part of the inte- 
rior decoration, and won the admiration of 
every beholder, foreign as well as Ameri- 
can. 

The enamel, with which the whole of the 
glass used in the structure was covered, 
was laid upon the glass with a brush, and, 
after drying, subjected to the intense heat 
of a kiln, by which the coating became vit- 
rified, and as durable as the glass itself ; 
the effect produced being similar to that 



604 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



of ground glass, translucent but not trans- 
parent, the sun's rays, diffused by passing 
tluough it, yielding an agreeable light, — 
deprived of that intensity of lieat and 
glare which is so peculiar to them in this 
climate. In the absence of a similar pre- 




raution in the London crystal palace, 
whoso roofs, as well as walls, were inclosed 
with transparent glass, it was found nec- 
essary to cover the interior of the building 
with canvas, to produce the required 
shade. The external walls of the New 



York building were of cast-iron framing 
and panel-work, into which were inserted 
the sashes of the windows and the louvers 
for ventilation. 

But the rapid and unexpected increase 
of applications for space by exhibitors, led 
to the erection of a large addition to the 
structure thus described. It consisted 
of two parts, of one and two stories re- 
spectively, and occupied the entire 
ground between the main building and 
the reservoir; its length, four hundred 
« and fifty-one feet, and its extreme width 
seventy-five feet. It was designed for 
the reception of machinery in motion, 
the cabinets of mining and mineralogy, 
and the refreshment rooms, with their 
necessary offices. The second storj', 
nearly four hundred and fifty feet long 
and twenty-one wide, and extending the 
whole length, was entirely devoted to 
the exhibition of pictures and statuary. 
In the work of decorating the build- 
ing, the leading idea was to bring out to 
advantage the beautiful architectural 
character of the edifice itself — to decor- 
ate construction, rather than to con- 
struct decoration. The result proved 
surprisingly attractive. The colors em- 
ployed on the exterior were mixed in 
oil, the base being white lead. The 
outside presented the appearance of a 
2 building of a light-colored bronze, of 
B wliich all features purely ornamental 
5 were of gold. The inside had a prevail- 
2 ing tone of buff, or rich cream color, 
< which was given to all the cast-iron 
> constructive work. This color was re- 

Cm 

" lieved by a moderate and judicious use 
of the three positive colors, red, blue, 
and yellow, in their several tints of ver- 
milion, garnet, sky-blue, and orange — 
certain parts of the ornamental work 
being gilt — to accord with the arrange- 
ment of colors emploj'ed in the decora- 
tion of the ceilings. The only exceptions 
to the use of oil colors were the ceiling of 
tlie lean-to and the dome, these being exe- 
cuted on canvas. 

The effect of the interior of the dome 
was particularly splendid. The rays from 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



605 



a golden sun, at the center, descended 
between the latticed ribs, and arabesques 
of white and blue, relieved by stars, sur- 
rounded tlie openings, the effect of the 
whole being very fine. This splendid 
appearance by day was even excelled by the 
gorgeous illumination of the structure at 
night, produced by countless gas-burners. 

In the construction of this vast and 
splendid palace of industry, tlie whole 
quantity of iron employed amounted to 
one thousand eight hundred tons, of which 
three hundred tons were wrought and 
fifteen hundred tons cast iron ; the quan- 
tity of glass used, fifteen thousand panes, 
or fifty-five thousand square feet ; and the 
quantity of wood amounted to seven hun- 
dred and fifty thousand feet, board meas- 
ure. The general mode of erection by 
base pieces, columns, connecting pieces 
and girders, was the same with that of the 
great London palace ; but the construction 
of the arched nave, and of the dome, was of 
course entirely peculiar, and the general 
effect of the structure completely different. 
The London building was regarded as defi- 
cient in architectural effect. The form of 
the New York edifice furnished scope for 
a pleasing variety of embellishments, by 
which all monotony was avoided. 

Exclusive of the naves, the total amount 
of space on the floor, occupied by different 
countries for exhibition, was about one 
hundred and fifty-two thousand square feet, 
of which a little more than ninety-four 
thousand was on the ground floor. The 
total amount of space occupied by foreign 
exhibitors was nearly one hundred thou- 
sand square feet ; and the total number of 
this class of exhibitors was nearly three 
thousand. In the United States depart- 
ment, the number of exhibitors was not 
far from two thousand, the largest propor- 
tion of whom were included under the fol- 
lowing classes : mineralogy, metallurgy, 
and mining ; machinery and tools ; agri- 
cultural implements ; hardware ; and the 
fine arts. 

The details of the exhibition, with the 
collecting and arranging of the various 
departments, was intrusted to the follow- 



ing gentlemen : General superintendents. 
Captains Dupont and Davis ; arrangement 
of space and classification, Samuel Web- 
ber; department of mineralogy and chem- 
istry, Professor B. Silliman, Jr. ; director 
of machinery, J. E. Holmes ; director of 
agricultural implements, B. P. Johnson ; 
director of sculpture, Felix Piatti ; director 
of textile fabrics, Edward Vincent ; — these 
having the co-operation of a large corps of 
assistants, experienced in the various spe- 
cialties named. 

It was the intention of the officers of 
the association, that the building should 
be finished and the exhibition opened to 
the public by the first day of May, 1853. 
But many unlooked-for delays intervened, 
and the ojjening was necessarily deferred 
until the fourteenth of July, on which day 
the palace was formally inaugurated with 
appropriate services. On a platform were 
assembled the officers of the association, 
and many of the distinguished men of 
Europe and America, including His Excel- 
lency, Hon. Pranklin Pierce, president of 
the United States, and members of his cab- 
inet. The devotional exercises, on open- 
ing the exhibition, were led by Bishop 
Wainwright; and then a choral, written 
for the occasion, and commencing with the 
line, " Here, where all climes their offer- 
ings send," was sung to the tune of Old 
Hundred. Mr. Sedgwick, the president 
of the association, then pronounced an 
address, stating the objects and prospects 
of the exhibition, and was followed by the 
president of the United States, in a brief 
and appropriate congratulatory speech, in 
which he bespoke for the great national 
enterprise the cordial patronage of all 
classes and sections, and characterized it 
as an event fitly reflecting the progress, 
power, and glory of the republic. After 
this, the organ poured through the aisles 
the sublime music of Handel's '' Hallelu- 
jah Chorus," — and the palace of glass, with 
its myriad forms of wonder and beauty, 
and its mighty lesson of civilization, was a 
comi)leted fact. The tide of humanity 
that flowed into the palace, from day to 
day, was constant and prodigious. 



606 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Such a magnificent displaj- of the prod- 
ucts of human ingenuity and skill had 
never hefore been witnessed in the west- 
ern world. Not only did America present 
its choicest elaborations of industry, in 
almost infinite variety, but climes and 
countries to the furthermost quarters of 
the globe were there represented in count- 
less contributions of the useful and the 
beautiful. England and France made 
vast and superb offerings to the great 
transatlantic bazaar, and their example 
was followed by the other continental 
nations. Scandinavia, Norwaj-, Sweden, 
and the German Zollverein, poured forth 
the selectest contents of their mines, 
manufactories, workshops, and studios. 
Among the former were iron ore, steel, 
wrought iron for gun-barrels, stearin can- 
dles, nickel, cobalt, copper, geological speci- 
mens, snow-shoes, reindeer antlers, a musi- 
cal instrument called the psalniodicon, 
wood carvings by Norwegian peasants, 
and for which they are celebrated. From 
the Zollverein States, there was an attract- 
ive variety of objects, the most interesting 
of which were the works of art, principally 
jiaintings. The first artists of modern 
(iermany contributed to this part of the 
collection, and in such quantity as far sur- 
passed general expectation. The names 
of eminence which appeared in tliis con- 
nection, were those of Huebner, Achen- 
bach, Muller, Elsasser, Openheimer, and 
from Vienna, Waldmuller and Swobada. 

Conspicuous also among the foreign 
attractions, was the celebrated picture con- 
tributed by Queen Victoria, representing 
the duke of Wellington presenting a birth- 
day gift to the infant Prince Arthur, the 
youngest member of the royal family. 
This picture was painted by Winterhalter, 
at the queen's express desire ; as a work of 
art alone it secured great attention, and 
was deservedly extolled by all lovers of 
beauty and perfection. But the fact of its 
being the queen's most valued and pet 
picture, and forwarded, in her own name, 
as a tribute of recognition to America's 
great exhibition, lieightened the interest 
with which it was viewed. 



The splendid colossal group of Christ 
and his a]>ostles, by Thorwaldsen — one of 
the masterpieces of sculjiture — was the 
theme of much praise, drawing crowds of 
admirers daily. The same also may be 
said of that matchless piece of art, Kiss's 
" Amazon," a copy from the original work 
in bronze, erected near the museum in 
Berlin. Next to the fine equestrian statue 
of Washington, this of the Amazon was 
considered the boldest and most striking 
piece of statuary exhibited. But some of 
the most beautiful contributions, in the 
department of fine arts, were to be found 
among those which, in ]ioint of size, were 
comparatively diminutive. Tlie veiled 
statues, for example, seemed almost like 
angelic creations. The cast-iron statuettes 
from the royal iron foundry at Vienna, 
were also beautiful ; each stood on an ara- 
besque pedestal, and was about twelve 
inches in height, of a dead black color, 
nearly resembling ebony, and of the most 
exquisite quality of casting. 

More grand and impressive than any- 
thing else in the Italian department, was 
the statue of Columbus, in the jiurest 
marble, his left hand resting upon a ter- 
restrial globe, to which the right jiointcd. 
This superb statue was of life size, and 
from the chisel of Del Medico, of Carrari. 

An .admimblc little grouj), which riveted 
the attention of every observer, was the 
Cage of Cupids, all in marble, — a bevj- of 
the little creatures, represented as tired of 
their confinement and striving to escajie ; 
this happy and unique conception was 
executed in a style of workmansliii> that 
may well bo termed marvelous. 

Most amusing, to old and young, was 
the plastic model of Gulliver in Lilliput, 
made by A, Fleischmann, in Sonneberg, 
Saxony. From the opening to the close 
of the exhibition, there was a constant 
crowd of visitors around this admirably 
executed work. Quite different in char- 
acter and in the kind of interest which it 
inspired, was the collection of ancient 
armor sent by the English government 
from the tower of London, and which com- 
prised a helmet worn in Henry the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



607 



Eighth's time, or about the year 1520; an 
ancient shield of the time of King Edward 
IV., in 1547 ; a helmet of the time of 
Queen Elizabeth, about 1560, and a pike- 
man's lance, eighteen feet long, of the 
same period ; a heavy breast-plate, one- 
quarter of an inch thick, bearing date 
1685 ; also, some very interesting speci- 
mens of ancient muskets, one of which, a 
flint lock with a plug bayonet, was used 
during the reign of King James the Sec- 
ond, in 1686. 

From France came the rarest and most 
delicate tapestries and porcelains, includ- 
ing some of the celebrated Gobelin carpets, 
sent expressly by the French government. 
These carpets are remarkable for smooth- 
ness, softness, and fineness of texture, as 
well as for their strength and evenness, 
excelling even the Persian in these re- 
spects, and the colors and designs are per- 
fect. Some of these carpets require from 
five to ten years for their completion, and 
at a cost of ten thousand to thirty thou- 
sand dollars. None are sold, being exclu- 
sively of government manufacture and 
use. The largest ever made was more 
than one thousand three hundred feet. 
Among other exquisite pieces sent to the 
exhibition, was the "Subject taken from 
the Chase and Still Life," and pronounced 
to excel in the softness, delicacy, and bril- 
liancy, with which all the minute traits of 
both animal and vegetable life are rendered 
in this wonderful species of manufacture. 

But no details possible within the com- 
pass of a few pages merely, would do jus- 
tice to the vast and varied contents of this 



World's Fair, with its four acres of richly 
teeming surface, from nearly five thousand 
contributors; nor, indeed, has an^' attempt 
been here made to describe those more 
Ijractical and extensive features of the 
exhibition, — those grand industries, cover- 
ing so wide and important a range in the 
elements and activities of modern civiliza- 
tion, — which constituted the chief scope 
and lesson of the undertaking. Of this 
numerous class are those ingenious and 
useful inventions pertaining to the various 
processes of agriculture, mines and their 
products ; machinery for constructive, mo- 
tive, and manufacturing purposes; etc., etc. 
For several months, the palace was open 
to the public, according to its original 
plan, and subsequentlj' it was decided to 
make the building and its attractions per- 
manent, the occasion being celebrated by 
public ceremonies appropriate to the event. 
Among the speakers was Elihu Burritt, 
who, in the course of one of the most bril- 
liant of speeches, said: "Worthy of the 
grandest circumstances which could be 
thrown around a human assembly, worthy 
of this occasion and a hundred like this, is 
that beautiful idea — the Coronation of 
Labor. Not American labor, not Brit- 
ish labor, not French labor, not the labor 
of the New AVorld or the Old, but the 
labor of mankind as one undivided broth- 
erhood — Labor, as the oldest, the noblest, 
prerogative of duty and humanity." Most 
unfortunately, this beautiful palace, so 
wonderful in its construction, and such an 
ornament to the chief city of America, was 
totally destroyed by fire, in October, 1858. 



LXXI. 

LOSS OF THE SPLENDID COLLINS STEAMSHIP ARCTIC, 

OF NEW YORK, BY COLLISION WITH THE IRON 

STEAMER VESTA.— 1854. 



Occurrence of the Disaster in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog.— Sinking of the Noble Ship 
Stern Foremost. — Hundreds of Souls Engulfed in a Watery Grave. — Experiences Crowded Into That 
Awful Hour — The Wail of Agony and Despair from the Fated Throng. — Her Non-Arrival, Painful 
Suspense.— The Dreadful News at Last— Shock to the Public Mind.— Strong Build of the Arctic — 
Prestige of the Collins Line. — A Casualty Undreamed Of — Surging Crowd in Wall Street.- Names 
of Lost and Saved Head.- Hope, Joy, Grief, Anguish —The Sad Tale on all Lips —Captain Luce in 
the Hour of Woe— Manliness of His First Order.— Ship Deserted by the Crew — " Every Man for 
Himself." — A Uaft Constructed, but in Vain. — Courage of the Women— Not One of Their Sex 
Saved.- Instances of Cool Bravery — An Engineer's Heroic Fidelity. — X30,000 for a Chance in a 
Boat— Pleasure Tourists on Board.— All of Mr. CoUins's Family Lost. 



"The fiiteof UieahipBhallbc mine."— CAPTAirf Luce, CouUAKDCit or tbk Abctic. 




lEAVING Liverpool, England, on tlie twentieth of September, 1854, 
the magnificent steamer Arctic, of the Collins line, plying between that city ami New- 
York, was, on the seventh day out, at noon, while running in a fog, totally engulfed. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



609 



with hundreds of souls, millions of treas- 
ure, and a heavy mail of incalculable value, 
in consequence of collision with the French 
iron screw-steamer Vesta. The Arctic 
was commanded by Captain Luce ; the 
Vesta, by Captain Duchesne. 

For many a long day after the time 
when this superb vessel was due at Nevi^ 
York, the public mind was in agonizing 
suspense as to her fate. From the well- 
known immense strength and complete 
equipment of the Arctic, this was the only 
sort of casualty likely to be serious to her, 
and this does not appear to have been 
anticipated by even the most sagacious 
sea-faring man. In every respect, the 
success of the Collins line reflected the 
highest honor upon American nautical 
enterprise and skill. 

The news of this lamentable catastrophe 
carried deep and heart-rending sorrow to 
the homes of thousands both in this coun- 
try and in Europe. On the news reaching 
New York, October 14th, that city as- 
sumed the appearance of one great funeral. 
The flags waved at half-mast throughout 
the metropolis, upon all the public build- 
ings and hotels, as also upon the shipping 
in the harbor. The ofiice of Mr. E. K. 
Collins, the founder and proprietor of this 
splendid line of steamships, was crowded 
with anxious visitors from early in the 
morning until the place was closed in the 
afternoon. All who wished to hear of rel- 
atives or friends called there, as the most 
likely place to learn the fate of those for 
whom they hoped even against hope. It 
was a sad gathering of grief-stricken citi- 
zens, among whom were fathers, brothers, 
and sons, tremulously waiting for intelli- 
gence which would either give the death- 
blow to all hope itself, or give back again 
all the buoyancy of life by the promised 
restoration of the lost. Often during the 
day was heard the inquiry put to the 
attendants in the counting-room of Mr. 
Collins, ' Have you any news of my 
brother?' 'Do you think my son is 
safe ? ' ' Have you seen any of the pas- 
sengers who could probably tell me of the 
affair, and give me intelligence of my 
39 



father ? ' Many, too, with tears in their 
eyes, grasped the hands of friends, and 
the questions were exchanged, ' Who of 
your friends were on board ? ' and ' Who 
of yours ? ' It seemed as if everybody had 
either relations or acquaintances on board 
the sad-fated vessel. As each rejiort came 
in of the passengers heard from as safe, it 
was a jjicture full of interest to see the 
eagerness with which all turned their ears 
to hear the report read, and the faces 
lighten up with gladness as the wished-for 
name fell from the lips of the reader. 

Some, upon receiving information of a 
rescue of the supposed lost, were at once 
engaged iu receiving the congratulations 
of those about them ; others turned around 
to offer condolence and mingle sympathy 
with the rest, for whom had come no 
happy tidings ; and others, again, rushed 
in haste from the building to circulate the 
report among friends outside, or to convey 
it to mourning families at home. Wher- 
ever this intelligence came, it was like the 
news of a resurrection from the dead. 
Notwithstanding iu all hope flickered 
dimly, yet the catastrophe was so appall- 
ing, and the chances of a rescue so few, 
that each was filled with the greatest fear, 
and all were alike prepared for the worst, 
though continually hoping for the best. 

Not only in the ofiice of the Ocean Steam 
Company, but in all places, were the same 
evidences apparent, that some heavy blow 
had fallen upon the heart, and, crushing 
out what was happy and peaceful, had 
placed the burden of sorrow there. At all 
frequented corners, along the streets, at 
store doors, in banking-houses, groups 
were assembled, each with the other can- 
vassing the chances of safety for some 
friend, or recapitulating the calamitous 
story of the shipwreck. All business in 
Wall street was for a time stopped ; and 
merchants and bankers, forgetting the rise 
of stocks and the fluctuations of trade, by 
'one touch of nature ' were brought together 
as participants in the general grief. The 
Exchange was crowded during the da}', but 
the loss of the Arctic was the sole en- 
grossing topic. 



GIO 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



At the time of the collision, Captain 
Luce was below, working out the position 
of the steamer. He immediately ran on 
deck and saw the iron steamer under the 
starboard bow, and passing astern, grazing 
and tearing the guards in her progress. 
The bows of the strange vessel seemed to 
be literally cut or crushed off for ten feet, 
and seeing that she must probably sink in 
ten minutes, Captain Luce took a glance 
at his own shij), and believing her to be 
comparatively uninjured, the boats were 
cleared and the first officer and six men 
left with a boat to board the stranger and 
ascertain the extent of her damage. The 
engineers were immediately instructed to 
put on the steam pumps, and the four deck 
pumps were worked by the passengers and 
crew. The ship was at once headed for 
the land, and several ineffectual attempts 
were made to stop the leak by getting sails 
over the bows. Finding that the leak was 
gaining very fast, notwithstanding the 
very powerful efforts made to keep the 
ship free. Captain Luce resolved to get tlie 
boats ready, and have as many ladies and 
children in them as possible. 

No sooner, however, had an attempt 
been made to do this, than the firemen and 
others rushed into the boats in spite of all 
opposition. Seeing this state of things, 
the captain ordered the boats astern to be 
kept in readiness until order could be 
restored, when, to his dismaj"^, he saw 
them cut the rope in the bow, and soon 
disappear astern in the fog. Another 
boat was broken down by persons rushing 
in at the davits, and many were precipi- 
tated into tlie sea and drowned. This 
occurred while the captain had been en- 
gaged in getting the starboard guard-boat 
ready. He had placed the second officer 
in charge, when the same scene was 
enacted as with the first boat. He then 
gave orders to the second officer to let go 
and tow after the ship, keeping near the 
stern, to be ready to take the women and 
children as soon as the fires were out and 
the engine should stop. The quarter-boat 
was found broken down, but hanging by 
one tackle; a rush was made for her also, 



some fifteen getting in, and, cutting the 
tackle, were soon out of sight. Not a sea- 
man was now left on board, nor a carpen- 
ter, — there were no tools to assist in build- 
ing a raft as the only hope, — and the only 
officer left was Mr. Dorian, the third mate, 
who worked nobly for the success of all. 

To form a raft, it became necessary to 
get the only remaining boat — a life-boat — 
into the water. This being accomplished, 
Mr. Dorian, the chief officer of the boat, 
taking care to keep the oars on board the 
steamer to prevent those in the boat from 
leaving the ship, proceeded to work, still 
hoping to be able to get the women and 
children on board liis boat at last. They 
had made considerable progress in collect- 
ing spars, when the alarm was given that 
the ship was sinking, and the boat was 
shoved off without oars or anything to 
hold themselves. 

In an itistant after, at about a qnarter- 
past five, P. M., the ship went down, car- 
rying evert/ soul on board with her. 

Cajitain Luce soon found himself on the 
surface, after a brief struggle, with his 
fragile child in his arms; then again 
found himself impelled downward to a 
great depth, and, before re.icbing the sur- 
face a second time, had nearly perished, 
losing the hold of his child as he struggled 
upwards. On thus getting upon the sur- 
face of the water, once more, the most 
awful and heart-rending scene presented 
itself^-over two hundred men, women, and 
children were struggling together, amid 
pieces of the wreck, calling upon each 
other for help, and imjdoring God to assist 
tlu'Tn ! Amid this struggling mass of 
human beings, he discovered his iliild, and 
was in the act of trying to save him, when 
a portion of the p.iddle-box came rushing 
up edgewards, just grazing the captain's 
head and falling with its whole weight 
upon the head of the helpless child. Cap- 
tain Luce then succeeded in getting on the 
top of the paddle-box in company with 
eleven others ; one, however, soon left for 
another piece, and others remained until 
relieved by death. Tliose who were left, 
stood in water up to their knees, the sea 



GEEAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



Gil 



frequently breaking over tliein ; and the 
suffering party were soon reduced by death 
to Captain Luce and one other, who, after 
an exposure of forty-six hours, were rescued 
by the ship Cambria, Captain Russell, 
bound to Quebec. 

Mr. Dorian, the energetic and faithful 
officer named above, asserted, in his ac- 
count of the disaster, that if all the officers 
and men had remained by the ship, all, or 
nearly all, of the passengers, would have 
been saved ; that, with the masts, spars, 
and the cutting off of the hurricane deck, 
a raft could have been formed capable of 
carrying the whole of them. Ho further 
states that among the passengers on board 
the Arctic he never saw men more coolly 
courageous, and that their quiet resigna- 
tion and implicit confidence in the captain 
and officers of the ship were such as it was 
impossible to surpass. A particular illus- 
tration of this, was the fidelitj' exhibited 
by a young gentleman named Holland, 
of Washington, who was on board the 
steamer for the purpose of gaining instruc- 
tion in engineering. He had been deputed 
by the captain to fire the signal gun^ 
when all others had fled, — and, amid the 
melancholy wail, he pursued his duty. 
When all hope had fled, and the vessel 
was nearly level with the sea, Holland was 
seen busy with the gun. His last shot 
boomed out as the Arctic sank, and he 
went down with her — persevering in the 
strict performance of his duty. 

In the construction of the raft, the two 
foreyard arms were cut down and lashed 
together, making the raft about forty feet 
long and three or four feet wide. On 
being finished, it was launched on the lar- 
board side, and in a few minutes after 
there were about seventy persons clinging 
to it, four of whom were women. Several 
other rafts were made, but none of them 
were so large as this. Doors, barrels, and, 
in fact, everything that floated, came into 
use. On some of these there were two 
and three, but the largest could not sup- 
port more than four or five. 

How a man feels during the process of 
drowning may be judged by the statement 



of Mr. McCabe, a passenger, who says : 
I remained on the vessel until she sank, 
when I went down with her. I had lieen 
employed a few minutes before with two 
others, one of whom was called 'Tom the 
storekeeper,' in lashing some casks to- 
gether, when I was driven away by the 
water, which rushed in with fearful impet- 
uositj'. Jumping upon the paddle-box, I 
sprang on the saloon deck, and in an 
instant was engulfed in the surging 
waters, which soon closed over our heads. 
Doxon, down ive sank, with our noble vessel, 
into the bosom of the ocean, and the terri- 
ble thought took possession of my mind 
that I was drowning. I retained my con- 
sciousness, however, all the time I was 
under the water, and it was with a feeling 
of intense joy that I found, after about 
half a minute, that I was rapidly rising 
towards the surface. It was all darkness 
before, but now I could see a dim light 
above me, and in a few seconds I was on 
the top of the water, struggling for life. 
Being a good swimmer, and having, be- 
sides, the support of a life-preserver, I suc- 
ceeded in reaching a door, which was float- 
ing a few feet from where I rose. I looked 
around me, but there was no trace of the 
vessel except a few loose timbers and the 
rafts which were floating about, some with 
and others without passengers. Finding 
I could not retain my hold of the door with 
safety, I left it and swam to a barrel 
which lay a few feet from me, and from 
this again I swam to the large raft, to 
which some seventy persons were clinging. 
The sea, though not strong, wa^ rough, and 
the waves, as they dashed remorselessly 
over the raft, washed awaj* a portion of its 
living freight. It was an awful scene — a 
multitude of human beings, in the midst of 
the ocean, without the slightest hope of 
assistance, while every minute one by one 
was dropping into a watery grave, from 
.sheer exhaustion. Those who had life- 
preservers did not sink, but floated with 
their ghastly faces upwards, reminding 
those who still remained alive, of the fate 
that awaited them. Of those who dropped 
away, some floated off and were gnawed 



(il'J 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 



and oaten by fishes, while others were 
washed under the raft, where their faces 
could be seen through the openings, as 
they were swayed to and fro by the waves. 
The raft at one time was so crowded that 
many had to hold on by one hand. Very 
few words were spoken by auy, and the 
only sound to be heard was the splash of 
the waters or the heavy breathing of the 
I)oor sufferers, as they tried to recover 
their breath, after a wave had passed over 
them. Nearly all were submerged to their 
armpits, while a few could with great dif- 
ficulty keep their heads above the surface. 
The women were the first to go ; they 



his pocket, but finding this impossible, on 
account of being in so cramped a, position, 
placed it between his teeth until overtaken 
by a tremendous wave, when he lost his 
hold upon it and it was washed away. 
Another, wlio had on an oiled silk coat, 
called on McCabe, for heaven's sake, to 
render assistance, as his strength was raj)- 
idly failing, and he must fall off if not 
relieved. As he was about four or five 
feet distant, it was difficult to reach liim, 
but after considerable exertions this was 
done, McCube heljiing him by the use of a 
knee, until, becoming himself quite faint, 
the hapless man was, by necessity, left to 




LOSS UF TllK CULLi> 



were unable to stand the exposure more 
than three or four hours. They all fell off 
the raft without a wonl, except one jioor 
girl, who cried out in intense agony, " Oh, 
my poor mothev and sisters!" 

At the expiration of some eighteen 
hours, there were not more than three or 
four persons remaining upon it, including 
McCabe. One of these gave to the latter 
what appeared to be a small map, but 
which the giver was understood to say was 
a sort of title-deed to his projjcrty. In a 
few moments after thus transferring it, 
he, too, unloosed his hold, and was added 
to the number that floated about the raft. 
McCabe endeavored to get the paper into 



- ' s AT NOOKDAV , IN MID-OCEAS. 

his fate. Poor fellow, he promised if ho 
ever got to New York alive, he would 
reward his deliverer well. He clung willi 
terrible tenacity to life, but lie, too, 
dro|>ped off in his turn. 

McCabe was now the only one left upon 
the raft — not a solitary person being alive, 
of all the seventy who, within a few hours, 
were his companions. The night of the 
second day was about closing on him, and 
during the whole time he had been in the 
water, he had not eaten a particle of anj'- 
thing nor drank a drop. His strength 
was beginning to give way, and his sight 
had become so dim as to render objects 
invisible a few feet off — even the ghastly 



GREAT XND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



613 



faces of the dead that looked up from 
under the raft were hardly discernible. 
Determined to make one more effort for 
life, he raised himself on his knees upon 
the raft, and through the dusk of evening 
saw, or thought he saw, a vessel. At this, 
his strength revived, and in a few mo- 
ments was heard the voice of some one 
approaching in a boat. And so it proved. 
After twenty-six hours of exposure, he was 
rescued from a watery grave, by a boat 
manned by Mr. Dorian, some .sailors, and 
Captain Grann, one of the Arctic pas- 
sengers. 

A lucid description of the whole scene, 
as given bj' Captain Grann, who was below 
at the time of the collision, states that 
upon going on deck, the Vesta was on the 
starboard quarter of the Arctic, about half 
a cable's length off, with her starboard 
bow completely stove, from stem to fore- 
rigging, to the water's edge. The Vesta 
lowered a boat, which got under the star- 
board wheel of the Arctic, and was 
swamped. When I came on deck (contin- 
ues Captain Grann.) they were lowering 
away the boats. Botli anchors were on 
the starboard side of the dock, and 1 went 
aft and asked Captain Luce if I should 
remove the anchors to the port side, as all 
of the ship's officers were aft, lowering 
away the boats and rigging pumps. He 
gave orders so to do, and, with the assist- 
ance of some passengers and a few of the 
crew, I carried the same into execution. I 
then went on the topgallant forecastle and 
examined into the state of her bows. 
Could see no evidences of her being stove, 
excepting some bad chafes, the oakum 
hanging out, and a piece of the iron boat 
protruding from the planks. As soon as 
I discovered this, I reported it to Captain 
Luce, which icas the first known of the 
Arctic having received serious damage. 
He then requested me to go below and 
ascertain, if possible, where the leak was. 
Went below and broke cargo — could hear 
water rushing in. The carpenter was 
ordered below between decks to stop the 
leak, and commenced cutting away the 
ceiling. I went to work with crew and 



passengers, breaking out cargo from lower 
hold, but very soon discovered that it 
would be impossible to stop the leak, as the 
water was over the cargo. I then left the 
hold and went on deck, where I learnt that 
the lower fires were out, and from this time 
all order and discipline ceased on board. 
The water was up to the lower deck, and 
gaining rapidly, passengers and crew still 
laboring at the pumps. 

There were six boats on board. The 
first boat was lowered with the chief mate, 
boatswain, and three men; she was low- 
ered to ascertain the condition of the other 
steamer, and was left behind on its being 
found that the Arctic was in a sinking 
condition. Two of the quarter-boats were 
taken by the second and fourth officers 
and crew. Another boat was taken by the 
engineers, and was supjalied with provis- 
ions, water, etc. ; there were only eight or 
nine in this boat, and, though it was not 
full, the}' would not permit any one else 
to come on board — indeed, it was said that 
revolvers were threatened to be used on 
this occasion. The fourth quarter-boat 
was hauled alongside by Captain Luce, 
the third mate, and Captain Grann. Into 
this boat, placed in charge of one of th<; 
ship's quartermasters. Captain Luce put a 
number of ladies ; immediately, several of 
the gentlemen passengers made a rush and 
jumped into the boat, and, as it was full, 
the painter was cut and the boat drifted 
astern. The sixth boat was on the quar- 
ter-deck, and, a lot of spare spars being 
secured for making a raft, this boat was 
launched, for the purpose of aiding the 
construction — the oars being takeii out of 
her, so that those who got on board should 
not desert while the lashing of the raft 
was going on. This latter work being 
completed as far as was possible, the boat, 
which was now full, was shoved off from 
the raft, and, in about ten minutes after, 
the noble steamer went down, stern fore- 
most. One fearful shriek went vp to 
heaven from that agonized company, as 
they were swept foi-ward against the 
smoke-stack ; and then all teas over. 

At the time of the collision, the passen- 



GU 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



gere had gathered in the cabin, prepara- 
tory to IuikIu'oii, and some of them were 
engaged in drawing the numbers of the 
daily Uittery, tlie chances of the same 
being biised upon the number of mik's run 
during the preceding twenty-four hours. 
The Arctic was then running at the rate 
of twelve and one-half miles an hour, the 
usual speed in foggy weather in that lati- 
tude. Two men were on the lookout, sta- 
tioned on the forecastle, and there was all 
the usual precaution against such a calam- 
ity. The advancing vessel was seen but a 
moment before she struck, but the instant 
she was discovered through the dense fog, 
the order was given, "Hard starhoard the 
helm and reverse the engine." The order 
was as quickly obeyed ; and, though at 
first there was no realization of the actual 
damage done, the terror and confusion 
became very great when the extent of the 
injury was disclosed. The conduct of 
Captain Luce was calm, manly, courageous ; 
to the last he declared, " The fate of the 
ship shall be mine." Catherwood, the 
eminent artist, Professor Reed, and Messrs. 
Sandford and Benedict, the well-known 
jurists, were earl}' among the lost. 

On its appearing that the Arctic was 
inevitably lost, the captain put Jlrs. Col- 
lins — wife of the owner of the line — and 
her <-liildrcn, with other women, children, 
and passengers, into a boat which was on 
the larboard side of the ship, near the 
wheel-house ; a little biscuit and water 
were provided, but they were without 
com]iass, and jiot a .single man able to 
guide thdir course. Unfortunately, at the 
moment of lowerijig this boat, one of the 
l)ulloys gave way, the other remaining 
entangled. The boat was precipitated 
nearly perpendicularly-, and all who were 
in it, excepting three persons, were thrown 
into the sea and lost. At such a moment, 
a misfortune like this was without a 
remedy. 

The overhauling of the boat, now empt}', 
was achieved at last, and it was impossi- 
ble to regulate her destiny, by any mere 
official orders. Passengers and sailors, 
without ceremony, jumped into the boat, 



which was in a few seconds filled. M. dc 
Grammont tried to jump, but felt into the 
sea, and would immediately have perished, 
had it not been for his servant, who, by a 
sujierhuman effort, hoisted him on board. 
Dulaquais (the servant) regained the boat 
by means of a rope, inviting the master to 
follow his example, but the boat liad 
already got under way. Dulaquais made 
a great jump, and fell like an inert mass 
into the boat. M. de Grammont, from 
lack of strength to imitate him, was obliged 
to allow the precious moment to i>ass 
unimproved which separated safety from 
death. 

One passenger offered thirty thousand 
pounds sterling, or one hundred and fifty 
thousand dollars, if the boats would put 
back to save him. They turned to do so, 
but before they reached him he sank, 
uttering, as he disapjieared, the most 
piercing moan of deathly agony. 

Another instance was that of a man 
who, just as one of the boats was slioving 
off from the Arctic, called piteously to a 
friend in the boat, and, bidding him good- 
bye, requested him to bear his love to his 
wife in Philadelphia, and tell her he wiis 
gone. 

Mr. Brennan, one of the engineers, bad 
an opportunity to be saved in the chief 
engineer's boat, but he hixd charge of a 
boy whom lie would not abandon ; both, 
however, were saved in another boat. An 
unknown gentleman threw a heavy purse 
of gold from the ship to the boy, after the 
latter got into the boat. 

The following statement, made by a 
gentleman who was saved from the wreck, 
exhibits human nature in one of its 
strange phases, in view of so terrible a 
crisis : — Among our passengers was a gen- 
tleman about thirty-five to thirty-eight 
years of age, of very reserved manners, 
and evidently depressed spirits. Being 
located in the same berth, I was one day 
accidentally struck by the significant fact 
that his linen was marked with initials 
differing from those of the name by which 
he passed and in which he had shipped. 
A few remarks from me induced him 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



615 



(under promise of secrecy, wliicli tlie ex- 
tent of this communication does not vio- 
late), to explain how circumstances of a 
distressing nature had induced his expa- 
triation. Subsequent conversations re- 
vealed to me that blighted hopes con- 
strained him to regard his existence but 
lightly, and, from his stolid indifference 
when the encounter took place, it is my 
belief that he courted those embraces of 
death which, alas ! so many have vainly 
struggled to resist. 

Every account confirms the statement 
that the ladies exhibited the most admira- 
ble coolness, and stared death in the face 
with a heroism which should have put to 
blush the men who deserted and left them 
to their fate. At the moment when one of 
the unfortunate boats was disappearing 
from mortal view, a French lady, remarked 
for her dark comjilexion, was seen to be 
courageously using her oar. Not a single 
female, however, of whom there were some 
sixty on board, escaped the awful doom, 
though every possible effort was made by 
Captain Luce to have the women, chil- 
dren, and passengers first cared for. Thus, 
when one of the men attempted to leave, 
the captain caught him, and tore the shirt 
off the man's back to prevent him from 
going, exclaiming, " Let the passengers 
go in the boat." He also seized a kind of 
axe, and attempted to prevent the firemen 
reaching the boat ; but it was ' every one 
for himself,' and, finallj-, no more attention 
was paid to the captain than to any other 
man on board. 

The Arctic was built in New York, and 
was considered as staunch and splendid a 
vessel as was ever constructed ; her meas- 
urement was three thousand five hundred 
tons, and the whole cost nearly a million 
dollars. Of the more than four hundred 
souls who left Liverpool in this ill-fated 
ship, full of hope, gayety, and health, only 



about one-tenth escaped a watery grave. 
Many of these, including a largo number 
of professional and business men of emi- 
nence, were returning from an European 
tour of pleasure. The accident happened 
within forty miles east of Cape Race, the 
eastern extremity of Newfoundland, in the 
neighborhood of the Virgin Rocks. 

After striking the Arctic, the Vesta 
appeared to be sinking, but immediately 
rose again ; but no hope was entertained 
of her ultimate safety, the passengers and 
crew looking upon the Arctic as their only 
chance of saving their lives. One man 
was killed, and others severely wounded. 
Two boats were put over the side, the first 
of which was sunk ; the second was imme- 
diately boarded by some of the crew and 
passengers, who, heedless of the captain's 
order to return, abandoned the vessel. 
The fog continuing very thick, they lost 
sight of the Arctic altogether, still hoping, 
however, that she would not desert them. 
Lightening the vessel in the fore part, her 
bows were thereby considerably raised, 
thus greatly stopping the rush of water; 
and, by other means and contrivances, 
they were enabled to run, under small 
steam, for the nearest port, St. John's, 
where she arrived September 30th. 

For many days, as already remarked, 
the terrible fate of the Arctic, and the 
many melancholy incidents connected with 
it, made a profoundly painful sensation in 
business circles — everywhere, indeed. The 
sympathies of the community were espe- 
cially with Mr. Collins, whose misfortune 
was a double and overwhelming one — the 
loss of his heloved family and his iiohle 
ship at the same time. The Collins line 
of steamers did more to give character and 
prestige to the mercantile marine of Amer- 
ica than can readily be estimated ; and the 
loss of the Arctic, therefore, was every- 
where regarded as a national calamity. 



LXXII. 

ASSAULT ON THE HON. CHARLES SUMNER, BY HON. 
PRESTON S. BROOKS.— 185G. 



Twenty SmMen ami Terrible BIowb, with a Soliil rjiitta Pereha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sumner's Hare 
liea<l. — lie Sta(;(,'er8 and Falls, Senseless, Gasliiil, iiml Bleedin;; — Sumner's Great Kansas Speech 
for Free Soil ami Free Liihor. — Speech by Senator Butler, of South Carolina. — Mr. Sumner's Scorch- 
ing Heply. — South Carolinians Oflendcii. — An Assault Determined On — Mr Rrooks their Champion. 
—Two Days' Watch for His Victim — Finds Him Alone at His Desk. — Approaches Unob.-ierved. — A 
(Juick and Deadly Blow. — Mr. Sumner Instantly Stunned. — His InefTectual Defense. — Brooks's 
Accomplices at Hand. — Their Advantage over Sunmer. — Storm of Public Indignation. — Action Taken 
by Congress. — Heipn of Terror at the Capital — Mr. Sumner's Three Years' Illness. — Recovery, 
Illustrious Career. — Death of Brooks and His Allies. — Time's Retributions. 



" In thcnntne of tlie Constitnttnn, which hoB been outmct^I — of the Lawn tmmplfd down— of Justice baoished— of Tlumanitv iIpjfTadwl— 
of Peace destroyed— of Freedom criiBlicd to the earth: nml in the name of the Heaveoljr Father, whuac service U perfect Freatluin, 1 make 
this last appeal."— Sbnatob Suumkh's SrKKCii, *-Tiik Ckimk Aoaihit Kahsas." 




UREIITV ruB KANSAS. 



ISTOR'\' records Init one instance of a great 
and lioiiored statesman — one of the foremost 
men of the age, in fact, in his advocacy of 
human rights — being struck down hj- the 
instruments of bloody violence, while in his 
seat in the senate chamber of his country's 
capitol, and tliere lying prostrate, bleeding, 
and in.scnsiblc, until removed Iiy friendly 
liands. 

This barbarous deed transpired at AVashing- 
ton, on the twenty-second of May, 1850; and 
it would be difficult to name any other event, 
lip to this period, which .so sliook the country 
to its center — culminating, too, in the brief 
space of but five succeeding years, in that tei^ 
rible shock of arms, which changed the desti- 
nies of the republic, and gave new life and the 
national guaranty to human rights. 

On the nineteenth of May, tlie Hon. Charles 
Sumner, United States senator from Massa- 
tliiisetts, began a speech in the senate, in favor 
of admitting Kansas into the Union, under a 
state constitution which she had adopted, pro- 
hibiting slavery. The question had for a long 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



617 



time produced the most intense political 
excitement all over tlie land, the south, as 
the advocate of slave territory, and tlie 
north, as the defender of free soil and free 
lahor, being bitterly arrayed against each 
other. Mr. Sumner treated the subject 
with his accustomed power of argument 
and rhetoric, and at great length, his 
speech occupying two days. A portion of 
it was directed with remarkable vigor and 
sarcasm, though entirely within parlia- 
mentary bounds, to the arguments of the 
Hon. A. P. Butler, senator from South 
Carolina, delivered some daj's previously, 
— this part of Mr. Sumner's speech giving 
great offense to tlie members of congress 
from that state. 

On the twenty-second, the senate ad- 
journed at an early hour, in consequence 
of the announcement of the death of Hon. 
Mr. Miller of Missouri. After the ad- 
journment, as is the custom of some sena- 
tors, Mr. Sumner remained at his desk, 
and was there writing unsuspectingly and 
busily, when he was approached by Pres- 
ton S. Brooks and L. M. Keitt, congress- 
men from South Carolina, each with a 
cane. Brooks was a nephew of Senator 
Butler. Several persons had been about 
Mr. Sumner's desk after the adjournment, 
but just now he was alone. Senator Wil- 
son had left him only a few moments 
before, on his way out passing Brooks, 
who was sitting in a back seat. Brooks 
walked up in front of IMr. Sumner's seat, 
and, saluting iiim, made the following 
remarks : 

" Mr. Sumner, I have read your speech 
carefully, and with as mucli calmness as I 
could be expected to read such a speech. 
You have libeled my state, and slandered 
my relative, who is aged and absent, and 
I feel it to be my duty to punish you for 
it." 

Without waiting for any reply, or asking 
for any explanation. Brooks instantly 
struck Mr. Sumner a violent blow upon 
the top of his bare head, while the latter 
was still in a sitting posture, with a heavy 
guttapercha cane. Brooks followed this 
blow immediately with other blows, from 



twelve to twenty in all, dealing them with 
all the force which his herculean size and 
great strength made him master of. 

Mr. Sumner had no distinct conscious- 
ness after the first blow. He involunta- 
rily strove to rise from his seat, but being 
confined by his writing position, he 
wrenched his desk from its iron fasten- 
ings, in attempting to extricate himself. 
Stunned and blinded, however, from the 
first, his efforts at self-defense were inef- 
fectual, and, staggering under the fast- 
repeated blows, he fell senseless to the 
floor, gashed, bleeding, and powerless. 
The cane used was a deadly weapon, being 
as hard as hickory or whalebone ; it was 
one inch in diameter at the larger end, 
and tapered to the diameter of about five- 
eighths of an inch at the smaller end, and 
so violently did Brooks deal his blows 
upon the defenseless senator's head, that 
the deadly weapon was shattered into 
many pieces by the time the assault ter- 
minated. 

Mr. Morgan and Mr. Murray, of the 
New York delegation, were in the front 
ante-chamber, and, hearing the noise, 
went in. Mr. Murray seized hold of 
Brooks, and Mr. Morgan went to the relief 
of Mr. Sumner, whom he found prostrate 
and nearly insensible. The persons pres- 
ent in the senate were Mr. Sutton, one of 
the reporters, the assistant sergeant-at- 
arms, Mr. Simonton, Senators Crittenden, 
Iverson, Bright, Toombs, Pearce, and a 
few others. No one of the senators seemed 
to offer to interfere but the venerable Mr. 
Crittenden, who pronounced it an inexcus- 
able outrage. Mr. Wilson ruslied into the 
senate-chamber on hearing of the attack, 
but found Mr. Sumner had been removed 
to the vice-president's room, and that a 
surgeon was in attendance. He then 
helped to put his colleague into a carriage, 
and went with him to his lodgings. The 
senator's condition was deplorable. There 
were friglitful cuts on his head, and his 
clothes were literally covered with blood. 
Upon the papers and documents covering 
his desk, as well as upon the adjoining 
desks, blood was also freely spattered. 



G18 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



But for the interfereni-e of Messrs. Murray 
and Morgan, ilr. Sumner would have cer- 
tainly been killed, under the remorseless 
and unceasing blows of his assailant ; the 
former seized Brooks around the waist, 
while he was striking Sumner, and, with 
Morgan's help, pulled him away. The 
advantage which Brooks had over his 
victim was complete ; stunning him with 
the very first attack, he afterwards seized 
him by the shoulder, held him with the 
left hand, while, witli the other, he kept 
laying deadly blows upon his head. 

It appears that as early as Tuesday, 
before Mr. Sumner's speech was concluded. 
Brooks took exception to the senator's 
remarks ; and that on Wednesday morn- 
ing, after the delivery of the speech, he 




yf ^ /^yU^a^ 



declared to Mr. Edmundson, a member of 
congress from Virginia, by whom he wivs 
met in the cajiitol grounds a .short time 
before the meeting of the two houses, that 
he had determined to punish Mr. Sumner, 
unless he made an ample apology for the 
language he h;id uttered in his speech; 
Brooks expressed a desire that he, Ed- 
mundson, should be present and witness 
the scene, and they thereupon took a seat 
near the walk leading from Pennsylvania 
avenue to the capitol, where they remained 
some fifteen minutes, awaiting the ap- 
proach of Mr. Sumner, but, as he did not 
make his appearance, the two proceeded to 
the capitol. 



On Thursday morning, Brooks and Ed- 
muudson were again together at the 
western entrance of the capitol grounds, 
on Pennsylvania avenue, a point which 
commands a view of all the approaches to 
the capitol from that portion of the city 
in which Mr. Sumner resided. Here, 
Brooks talked with Edmundson about his 
being on the lookout for Mr. Sumner, and 
his determination to resent the language 
of the speech. They failed to see Mr. 
Sumner, and went to the capitol together. 
In addition to Edmundson, Jlr. Keitt had 
also been informed of Brooks's jjurpose to 
make the assault — indeed, was one of the 
chief planners of the whole thing. Keitt 
was near by, when Brooks commenced the 
attack, and Edmundson took a position in 
an ante-room adjoining ; and, as soon as 
an attempt was made by the bystanders 
to protect Mr. Sumner, Keitt rushed up 
with a c;me in a threatening manner, 
Edmundson also entering the chamber 
soon after Mr. Sumner fell. It tlius aj)- 
peared that the murderous assault wiis 
premeditated during a period of at least 
two days, and that the only provocation 
consisted in Mr. Sumner's response to 
Mr. Butler's coarse aspersions uttered 
some days before, — Mr. Sumner's words 
being lawfully sj)oken in debate in the 
senate cliamber, not once being ruled out 
of order by the presiding officer, nor ob- 
jected to by any senator as in any way 
violative of the parliamentary rules estal)- 
lished for the government and order of that 
body. 

On the ensuing day, the outrage was 
brought to the attention of the senate, by 
Mr. Wilson, who said : " The seat of my 
colleague is vacant to-day. For the first 
time after five years of public service, that 
seat is vacant. Yesterday, after the 
touching tribute of respect to the memory 
of Jlr. IMillcr, of Missouri, a deceased 
member of the house of representatives, 
the senate adjourned. My colleague re- 
mained in his seat, engaged in jjublic 
duties. While thus engaged, with pen in 
hand, and in a position which rendered 
him utterly incajiable of protection, or 



GREAT AJSfD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



619 



defending himself, Mr. Preston S. Brooks, 
a member of tlie house from South Caro- 
lina, approached him unobserved, and ab- 
ruptly addressed him. Looking up, and 
before he had time to utter a single word 
in reply to him, he received a stunning 
blow on the head from the caue in the 
hands of Mr. Brooks, which made him 
almost senseless and unconscious ; endeav- 
oring, however, to protect himself, in 
rising from his chair, his desk was over- 
thrown; and while in that powerless con- 
dition, he was beaten upon the head and 
shoulders by repeated blows from Mr. 
Brooks, until he sank upon the floor of the 
senate, unconscious, exhausted, and covered 
with his own blood. He was raised from 
the floor by a few friends, taken into an 
ante-room, and his wounds dressed. From 
thence he was carried to his house, and 
placed upon his bed. He is thus unable 
to be with us to day, to perform the duties 
which belong to him as a member of this 
body. To hold a member of the senate 
responsible out of this chamber for words 
spoken in debate is a grave offense, not 
only against the rights of a member, but 
again.st the constitutional privileges of this 
body; but, sir, to come into this chamber, 
and assault a member in his seat, until he 
falls exhausted upon this floor, is an 
offense requiring the prompt action of this 
body. Sir, I submit no motion, — I leave 
it to older senators, whose character and 
position in the senate, and before the 
country, eminently fit them to take the 
lead in a measure to redress the wrongs of 
members of this body, and vindicate the 
honor and dignity of the senate." A com- 
mittee of investigation was appointed. 

In the house of representatives, also, the 
outrage was the subject of legislative 
action, after an exciting debate, in which 
Mr. Burlingame of Massachusetts, thus 
gave expression, in the course of a manly 
and truthful speech, to the sentiments of 
every noble-minded citizen in the land: 
"On the 22d day of May, when the senate 
and the house had clothed themselves in 
mourning for a brother fallen in the battle 
of life in the distant state of Missouri, the 



senator from Massachusetts sat, in the 
silence of the senate chamber, engaged in 
employments appertaining to his office, 
when a member from this house, who had 
taken an oath to sustain the constitution, 
stole into the senate — that place which had 
hitherto been held sacred against violence 
— and smote him as Cain smote his 

brother One blow was enough ; 

but it did not satiate the wrath of that 
spirit which liad pursued him through two 
days. Again, and again, and again, 
quicker and faster, fell the leaden blows, 
until he was torn away from his victim, 
when the senator from Massachusetts fell 
into the arms of his friends, and his blood 
ran down the senate floor. Sir, the act 
was brief, and my comments on it shall be 
brief also. I denounce it in the name of 
the sovereignty of Massachusetts, which 
was stricken down by the blow ; I de- 
nounce it in the name of humanity ; I 
denounce it in the name of civilization, 
which it outraged ! I denounce it in the 
name of that fair play whicli bullies and 
prize-fighters respect. What ! strike a 
man when he is pinioned — when he cannot 
respond to a blow ! Call j'ou that chiv- 
alry ? In what code of honor did you get 
j-our authority for that ! " Similar legis- 
lative action to that of the senate was 
adopted, on motion of Mr. Campbell, for 
inquiring into the circumstances of so 
brutal, murderous, and cowardly an as- 
sault. 

Being waited on, some days after the 
assault, by the committee of investigation, 
Mr. Sumner, who was confined in great 
suffering to his bed, gave the following 
testimony : " I attended the senate as 
usual, on Thursday, the 22d of May. 
After some formal business, a message was 
received from the house of representatives, 
announcing the death of a member of that 
body from Missouri. This was followed 
by a brief tribute to the deceased from 
Mr. Geyer, of Missouri, when, according 
to usage and out of respect to the deceased, 
the senate adjourned at once. Instead of 
leaving the senate-chamber with the rest 
of the senators, on the adjournment, I con- 



620 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



tinned in my seat, occupied with ni}- pen, 
and while thus intent, in order to be in 
season for the mail, which was soon to 
close, I was approached by several j)ersons, 
who desired to converse with nie, but I 
answered them promptly and briefly, ex- 
cusing myself for the reason that I was 
engaged. When the last of these persons 
left mo, I drew my arm-chair close to my 
desk, and, with ni}' legs under the desk, 
continued writing. My attention at this 
time was so entirely drawn from other 
subjects that, though there must have 
been many persons in the senate, I saw 
nobody. Wiiile tluis intent, with my 
head bent over my writing, I was ad- 
dressed by a person who approached 




the front of my desk : I was so entirely 
absorbed, that I was not aware of his 
presence until I beard my name pro- 
iionnc('(l. As I looked up, with pen in 
hand, 1 saw a tall man, whose countenance 
was not familiar, standing directly over 
me, and at the same moment cauglit these 
words : ' I have read your speech twice 
over, carefully; it is a libel on South Car- 
olina, and Mr. Butler, who is a relative of 
mine.' While these words were still pass- 
ing from his lips, he commenced a succes- 
sion of blows with a heavy cane on my 
bare head, liy the first of whicli I was 
stunned so as to lose my sight. I saw no 
longer my assailant, nor any other person 
or object in the room. What I did after- 



wards was done almost unconsciously, 
acting under the instincts of self-defense. 
With head already bent down, I rose from 
my seat — wrenching uj) my desk, which 
was screwed to the floor — and then press- 
ing forward, while ray assailant continued 
his blows. I had no other consciousness 
until I found mj'self ten feet forward in 
front of my desk, lying on the floor of the 
senate, with my bleeding head supported 
on the knee of a gentleman whom I soon 
recognized, by voice and manner, as Mr. 
Morgan, of New York. Other persons 
there were about me, offering me friendly 
.assistance, but I did not recognize any of 
them. Others there were at a distance, 
looking on and offering no assistance, of 
whom I recognized only Mr. Douglas, of 
Illinois, Mr. Toombs, of Georgia, and I 
thought also iny assailant standing be- 
tween them. I was helped from the floor, 
and conducted into the lobby of the senate, 
where I was placed upon a sofa. Of those 
who hel]ied me here I have no recollection. 
As I entered the lobby, I recognized IMr. 
Slidell, of Louisiana, who retreated, but I 
recognized no one else until I felt a 
friendly grasp of the hand, which seemed 
to come from Mr. Campbell, of Ohio. I 
have a vague impression that Mr. Uright, 
president of the senate, spoke to me while 
I was on the floor of the lobby. I make 
this statement in answer to the interroga- 
tory of the committee, and offer it as j)re- 
senting completely all my rei'ollections of 
the assault and of the attending circum- 
stances, whether immediately' before or 
immediately after. I desire to add, that 
besides the words which I have given as 
uttered by my assailant, I have an indis- 
tinct recollection of the words 'old man;' 
but these are so enveloped in the mist that 
ensued from the first blow, that I am not 
sure whether they were uttere<l or not." 
On the cross-«>xamination, Mr. Sumner 
stated that he was entirely without arms 
of any kind, and that he had no notice or 
warning of any kind, direct or indirect, of 
any such assault. In answer, also, to a 
cross-question, Mr. Sumner replied that 
what ho had said of Senator Butler, of 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



621 



Soutli Carolina, was strictly responsive to 
Mr. Butler's speeches, and according to 
the usages of parliamentary debate. 

The dastardly blow which stunned Sen- 
ator Sumner, also stunned, for the moment, 
the great north and west, from Maine to 
Nebraska — but only to arouse them, as 
they had never been aroused before, to a 
realization of the true char.acter of the 
conflict which was being waged from one 
end of the land to the other, and to make 
tliem more determined than ever, in be- 
half of free soil, free labor, and free 
speech. Indignation meetings, composed 
of the solid worth and intelligence of the 
population throughout the free states, were 
immediately held, to protest against so 
cowardly and murderous an attempt to sup- 
press the freedom of debate. In every city 
and town, the masses poured forth, to dem- 
onstrate their reprobation of so brutal and 
atrocious a wrong, and to express sympa- 
thy for Senator Sumner, in view of the 
anguish and peril of his condition. In 
Massachusetts, in especial, the outrage 
upon their great and honored senator pro- 
duced such an outburst of universal indig- 
nation as was never known before. And in 
addition to this, the riches of the wealthy 
were freely proffered him, to defray the 
expenses incident to his disability ; and, 
in Boston, a memorial token in appro- 
bation of the great speech for which he 
was stricken down, was only prevented 
from being consummated, bj' the senator's 
earnest request. This memorial was to have 
been a massive and elaborate silver vase, two 
feet in height, and of grand proportions. 
According to the design, there was to be, 
upon the summit of the vase, a figure rep- 
resenting Mr. Sumner holding his Kansas 
speech in his right hand ; on either side 
were the figures of Justice and Freedom, 
crowning him with a wreath of laurel ; a 
winged genius sat at his feet, inscribing 
his name on a tablet. Figures represent- 
ing Victory were upon the arms of the 
vase, heralding the triumph of Freedom. 
Above the inscription to Mr. Sumner, and 
in the center, was the coat of arms of 
Massachusetts. On the foot of the vase 



was the coat-of-arms of the nation, between 
masks and appropriate emblems of Liberty 
and Slavery. By Mr. Sumner's special 
desire, the large amount contributed for 
this purpose was devoted to the interests 
of freedom in Kansas. 

But no less was the brutal conduct of 
Brooks applauded throughout the south, 
than was the character of Mr. Sumner 
eulogized, and his conditi(m compassion- 
ated, at the north. Almost without excep- 
tion, the newspapers in the interests of 
slavery exulted over the outrage, and 
urged similar treatment of Wade, Seward, 
Wilson, Giddings, Itale, and others. Let- 
ters of admiration for his exploit poured 
in upon Brooks, day after day, and he was 
soon in possession of a dozen choice and 
costly canes, the gifts of friends in South 
Carolina and elsewhere, in place of the 
gutta percha weapon which was broken to 
pieces iu the blows dealt upon the head of 
Senator Sumner. These presentation 
canes were all elegantly mounted with 
silver or gold, and bore commemorative 
inscriptions ; they were also very solid and 
and heavy, one blow from either of them, 
in the hands of so powerful an assailant as 
Brooks, would finish a man of ordinary 
thickness of skull. The one which he 
most pi'ized, was of massive live oak, silver- 
looped, and inscribed with a grateful trib- 
ute from the northern shipmasters doing 
business in Charleston, S. C. 

In due time, the committee of investiga- 
tion appointed by the senate made a report, 
but the only action taken by that body 
was to transmit a message to the house, 
complaining that Mr. Brooks, one of its 
members, had made a violent assault upon 
Senator Sumner, but that, as Mr. Brooks 
was a member of the house of representa- 
tives, the latter alone had the power to 
arrest, try, and punish him. In the debate 
in the senate, on the committee's report, 
there was much excitement. Notwith- 
standing it was known to all, that Mr. 
Sumner was confined to his bed, in intense 
suffering, Senator Butler, of South Caro- 
lina, said, among other things, that, " had 
he been in Washington, he should have 



G22 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



assumed all the responsibility tuken by liis 
(rallaiit relative. Mr. Brooks assaulted 
Mr. Sumuer with no other purpose than 
to disgrace him. Mr. Brooks was one of 
the best tempered lellows, though impetu- 
ous, no doubt, and quirk at resentment. 
Mr. Sumner received two flesh wounds, 
and, being rather handsome, did not just 
now expose himself. If he had been in 
the army, and had not gone out the next 
day after the fracas, he would have de- 
served to be cashiered. On some accounts 
it was fortunate lie (Butler) was not hero 



oua, Mr. Butler exclaimed from his seat, 
" You (irr a liar." 

Brooks immediately challenged Mr. Wil- 
son to mortal combat, for having thus 
characterized the assault, which challenge 
Mr. Wilson declined to accept, on the 
ground that "dueling is a relic of bar- 
barous civilization, which the law of 
the countrj' has branded as crime," and 
preferring to throw himself on " the 
right of self-defense, in its broadest 
sense." Mr. Burlingame was also chal- 
lenged by Brooks, and the latter iiiinie- 



-Q. 







ABSAULT ON BBNATOB SHMNEE, IIV r. S. DR00K8. 



at the time, for he did not know what he 
might have done. To bo sure, it was 
thirty or forty years since he had been 
engaged in a personal conflict, and his 
hand was out of practice, but he did not 
know but he might have had a trial at 
him. One thing he had no doubt of, 
namely, if he (Butler) were a young man, 
he would have left him (Sumner) in a 
worse condition than he is voir." In re- 
sponse to Senjitor Wilson's denunciation 
of the act as brutal, cowardly, and nnirder- 



diatel}' agreed to meet him, but other 
parties interposing, hostile proceedings 
were stopped. Both northern and south- 
em senators went armed constantly, and 
there was a "reign of terror" in the 
capital of the nation. Being complained 
of, in one of the criminal courts of the 
city for assault and battery, in his attack 
on Mr. Sumner, Brooks appeared before 
the judge, made an elaborate speech in 
vindication of his course, waived a trial, 
asked fur judgment, and, on the judge 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



623 



imposing a fine of three hundred dollars, 
paid it on the spot. 

The committee of investigation ap- 
pointed by the house of representatives 
reported resolutions of expulsion against 
Brooks, and censure against Keitt and 
Edmundson. The resolution to expel 
Brooks received, after a violent debate, one 
hundred and twenty-one votes, and there 
were ninety-five votes in the negative ; a 
two-thirds vote being required to expel a 
member, the resolution failed. The reso- 
lution of censure passed. Mr. Hoffman, 
of Maryland, was the only southern mem- 
ber who voted to expel Brooks. 

Brooks, however, stung by the rebuke 
conveyed by the vote of a majority of the 
house, made a speech of coarse defiance, in 
which he said, " If I desired to kill the 
senator from Massachusetts, why did I not 
do it ? You all admit that I had it in my 
power. Let me tell you, that, expressly to 
prevent taking life, I used an ordinary 
cane presented by a friend in Baltimore. 
I went to the senate deliberately. I hesi- 
tated whether I should use a horsewhip or 
a cowhide, but knowing that the strength 
of the senator from Massachusetts was 
superior to mine, I thought he might wrest 
it from me. If he had, I might have done 
what I should have regretted for the re- 
mainder of my life. (A voice : He would 
have killed him !) Ten days ago, foresee- 
ing what the action of the house would be, 
my resignation was put into the hands of 
the governor of South Carolina. And 
now, Mr. Speaker, I announce to you and to 
the house, I am no longer a member of the 
thirty-fourth congress." Senators Butler 
and Mason sat near Brooks during the 
delivery of his speech — of the tone of 
which the preceding brief sentences afford 
some idea, — and were quite merry over it. 
Mr. Brooks retired amid the applause of 
the south gallery, which was filled with 
ladies and gentlemen, and, upon reaching 
the lobby, was embraced and showered 
with kisses by the ladies. 

Returning home to South Carolina, 
Brooks was feted and feasted, and made 
the recipient of every possible mark of 



honor and admiring gratitude. An elec- 
tion was soon held to fill the vacancy 
caused by his resignation, and he was 
elected by a unanimous vote. Once more, 




PRESTON S, BROOKS. 



namely, on the eighth of January, 1857, 
he made a characteristic speech on the 
floor of congress, against the prohibition 
of slavery in Nebraska. But his career 
was suddenly terminated, on the twenty- 
seventh of the same month. His sickness 
was brief — inflammation of the throat — 
and he expired in terrible pain. In the 
intensity of his sufferings from strangula- 
tion, he endeavored to tear open his throat, 
that he might get breath. He was but 
thirty-eight years old, and left a wife and 
four children. His frame was pronounced, 
by the undertaker, tlie largest for which 
he had ever been called upon to furnish a 
cofiin. 

Only four months after the decease of 
Brooks, Senator Butler died at Edgefield 
court-house, S. C, in the sixty-first year 
of his age. Keitt met his death during 
the war of the rebellion, he being at the 
time an officer in the confederate army. 

From the very first, Mr. Sumner's con- 
dition was critical in the extreme, so much 
so, that his physicians considered the 
chances to be against his recovery, and 
visitors were peremptorily forbidden to see 
him. His head and the glands of the 
neck became swollen, the cuts soon ulcer- 
ated, and there was a constant torturing 
pain in the head. An appearance of ery- 
sipelas presented itself, a form of inflam- 
mation greatly to be dreaded. As soon as 
he could be removed with safetj', he was 



02^ 



OUll FIRST CENTUKV.— 1770-1S7G. 



carried into the country, remaining for 
some time under the hospitable roof of 
Hon. F. P. Blair, at Silver Spring. In 
the spring of 1857, he went to Eurnpc by 
tlie advice of his phj'sicians, and there 
passed some months, returning in the 
nutunin, with a view to engaging in his 
public duties. 

Undervaluing, however, the seriousness 
of his condition, Mr. Sumner's anticipa- 
tions of active usefulness were not to be 
so speedily realized. At the time of the 
assault uj)on him, he failed to comprehend 
the full extent and pt'culiar nature of the 
injury received, and continued to cherisli, 
from the outset, the constant hope of an 
early restoration to sound health. But 
the spring of 1858 found him still in such 
impaired health, as to necessitate another 
visit to Europe, principally with a view to 
the curative iuHuences of travel, exercise 
in the open air, and absence from political 
excitement. At Paris, he met Dr. George 
Ilayward, the eminent Boston surgeon, 
who at once urged 'active treatment' — 
that is, the application of a system of 
counter-irritants, in order to reach the 
malady in the cerebral sj'stem and in the 
S[iiue. With the sanction of Doctor Hay- 
ward, Mr. Sumner then put himself in the 
hands of Doctor 15rown-Se(juard, the cele- 
brated physiologist, so well known, on 
both sides of the Atlantic, for his suc- 
ce.ss in diseases of (ho spine and nervous 
system. 

A careful and acute investigation of Mr. 
Sumner's case, by this eminent surgeon, 
resulted in ascertaining that, though the 
brain itself was free from anj' serious 
remaining injury, the effects of the origi- 
nal commotion there were still manifest in 
an effusion of liquid about the brain and 
in a slight degree of congestion, chiefly 
confined to the membrane around the 
brain; it was also found that the sjiine 
was suffering in two places from the effect 
of what is called contre^oup. Mr. Sumner 
being seated and inclined over his desk at 
the time of the assault, the blows on his 
liead took effect by counter-stroke, or com- 
municated shock in the spine. Doctor 



Brown-Setjuard agreed with Doctor Hay- 
ward, as to the necessity of an active treat- 
ment, doubting very much whether any de- 
gree of care or lapse of time, unless the mor- 
bid condition of the system were directly 
acted uj>on, would not always leave the pa- 
tient exposed to a relajise. He proceeded, 
therefore, at once, to apply fire to the back 
of the neck and alonij the spine. " I have 
applied " — writes M. Sequard to a friend, 
at this time — " six moxas to Senator 
Sumner's neck and back, and he has borne 
these exceedingly painful aj)plications with 
the greatest courage and j)atience. You 
know that a ' moxa ' is a burning of the 
skin with inflamed agaric (amadou,) cot- 
ton wool, or some other very combustible 
substance. I had never seen a man bear- 
ing with such a fortitude as Mr. Sumner 
lias shown, the extremely violent pain of 
this kind of burning." ' The recovery, by 
Mr. Sumner, of his general health, from 
the origin.-il shock, was due to what his 
English and Frencli jihysicians called the 
wonderful recuperative energies of his 
constitution and to a remarkable power of 
resistance to injury. It was this, too, in 
alliance with his untouched vigor of will, 
that enabled Mr. Sumner to bear the moxa 
without the chloroform which Doctor Se- 
quard recommended, and without the 
shrinking which the doctor expected. 

This severe medical treatment was suc- 
ceeded by that of baths and other reme- 
dial resorts. In a letter written by Mr. 
Sumner, in September, 1858, he says : 
" My life is devoted to my health. I wish 
that I could say that I am not still an 
inv.ilid ; but, except when attacked by the 
pain in nij' chest, I am now comfortable, 
and enjoy my baths, my walks, and the 
repose and incognito which I find here. I 
begin the day with douches, hot and cold, 
and when thoroughly exhausted, am 
wrapped in sheet and blatdiet, and con- 
ve^'ed to my hotel and laid on my bed. 
After my walk, I find myself obliged again 
to take to my bed, for two liours before 
dinner. But this whole treatment is in 
pleasant contrast with the protracted suf- 
ferings from fire which made my summer 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



625 



a torment. And yet I fear that I must 
return again to that treatment. It is with 
a pang unspeakable that I find myself thus 
arrested in the labors of life and in the 
duties of my position." It was not until 
the autumn of 1859, that Mr. Sumner was 
sufficiently restored in health, to justify 
him in returning home and resuming his 
seat in the senate. 

Though originally elected to the United 
States senate by a majority of only one 
vote, in a legislature composed of several 
hundred members, — and not even then 



until after many and wearisome ballotings, 
running through several weeks, — he was 
almost unanimously re-elected in 1857 ; 
again, in 18C3, with but few dissentient 
votes ; and again, in 1869, with similar 
unanimity ;— making a period of twenty- 
four consecutive years, and by which he 
became " the Father of the Senate," in 
point of protracted official service. He 
died, in office, in 1874. The fame of his 
career, as statesman, orator, and philan- 
thropist, may be said to be world-wide. 
Such are time's impressive changes. 



40 



LXXIII. 

HORRIBLE AND MYSTERIOUS MURDER OF DOCTOR 
BURDELL, A WEALTHY NEW YORK DENTIST, 
IN HIS OWN OFFICE.-1857. 



Fifteen Ghastly Stabs Upon His Body. — Arrest and Trial of Mrs. Cunninphani, Ilis Landlady and Mis- 
tress, for tlie Crime. — Her Claim to be His Widow and Heiress — She Secretly Borrows an Infant, to 
which She Pretends to Give Birth as Doctor Burdell's Child. — Disgraceful Revelations of Intrigue and 
Infamy in Fashionable Life. — Shocking Butchery of the Doctor. — Found Dead by His Office Boy. — 
Bloody Appearance of the Room — Mrs. Cunningham's Character. — Unscrupulous and Strong- 
Minded. — Her Repeated Threats. — Jealousies, Hostilities, Sohemings. — Doctor Burdell in Fear for His 
Life. — Speaks of Her with Terror, — The Murder Announced to Mrs. Cunningham. — She Embraces 
and Kisses the Corpse — Dark Case for Her in Court. — Insufficient I'nxif ; Acquitted — New Chapter 
in the Drama. — Her Assumed Pregnancy. — Offers One Thousand Dollars for an Infant. — How it 
was Obtained. — Her Mock Confinement. — Joy Over " Her Dear Baby." — Exposure of the Daring 
Plot. — Greatest of New York Murders. — The Robinson and Jewett Case. 



" 80 perfect a drama, fin cnnniMent thmuchnut. Bo marvelously conceived BQd wondrouily executed, BO regular and obedient to the tawB 
of art, does out exist io ail tile auoald o{ criuiC."— 11aiii-lu's Wklxlv. 




UITE equal, in startling and bloody atrocity, to the darkest deeds on the crim- 
inal calendar of our first century, was the murder, on the night of the thirti- 
eth of January, 1857, of Dr. Harvey Burdell, a noted dentist of 
New York city, at his own house, on Bond street, — one of the 
wealthy and fashionable localities of that metropolis. He was 
found dead, in his office, on Saturday morning, 
1; January thirty-first, by liis errand-boy, who had 

vy ^ come, as usual, about half-jpust eight o'clock, to 

ti' t^' a7^;- iCl attend to his office duties. The bodv, when dis- 
"" ' ~ '" ^ covered, was lying ujioii the floor, shockingly muti- 
lated, and surrounded with clots of blood, and the 
door and walls of the room besmeared with blood 
iilso. The inmates being alarmed. Dr. John AV. 
Francis, a resident in the immediate vicinit}-, was 
called in to make an examination. He found a 
litrge number of deep wounds, almost any of which 
would cause death, had been inflicted with some 
sharp instrument on the doctor's person. There 
was also a mark, as of a ligature, around the neck 
of the deceased ; a mark quite distinct on the front 
THiAL OK J1I18. ccNMNoiiAM. aiid ou either side, but disappearing altogether 




GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



627 



before reaching the back part of the neck. 
The whole gave the impression that the 
ligature had been applied from behind and 
that the neck had been drawn backward. 

On the announcement that so frightful 
and mysterious a murder had been com- 
mitted upon the person of so noted a pro- 
fessional citizen, the agitation of the 
community was indescribable. Nor was it 
long before the information became widely 
known, that Doctor Burdell's landlady, 
Mrs. Cunningham, sustained the relation of 
mistress to him, that she claimed to have 
been secretly married to him, that she 
was sufficiently unscrupulous and strong- 
minded to engage in an intrigue against 
his foitune if not his person; and that the 
house, though respectable and aristocratic 
externally, was, within, the scene of con- 
tinual bickerings, hostilities, jealousies, 
and schemes — of espionage through kej-- 
holes, of larcenies of papers, of suspicions 
among the servants, of quarrels in the 
entries, and of indecorums in the chambers. 
Though Doctor Burdell was the owner of 
this house, it was not his boarding-house, 
the whole dwelling — with the exception of 
the doctor's office — being occupied bj' Mrs. 
Cunningham and her children, together 
with a few boarders and lodgers. 

Almost immediately', suspicion fastened 
upon the inmates of the house, and this 
feeling deepened into conviction, as the 
coroner's investigation progressed. The 
substance of this testimony was, that Doctor 
Burdell, whose mistress Mrs. Cunningham 
was known to have been, was not at the 
time of his decease on good terms with 
her, and considered that he stood in 
danger of his life from her and her 
family-. She wanted him to marry her, 
was actually married by Rev. Mr. Mar- 
vine to some man who personated Doctor 
Burdell, and Mrs. Cunningham declared 
in her evidence on the iuquest that she 
was Mrs. Burdell ; but various circum- 
stances went to show that Burdell was not 
the man, and that the certificate of mar- 
riage was based upon a fraud. One month 
after this marriage, Mrs. Cunningham 
desired her attorney to renew a suit 



against Burdell for breach of promise ; 
said suit having been withdrawn previ- 
ously', on terms favorable to Mrs. Cunning- 
ham. This fact seemed to dispose of the 
alleged marriage, and to convict Mrs. Cun- 
ningham of having, on the morning after 
Burdell's death, fraudulently assumed to 
be his widow. It also appeared that 
Burdell, from his great animosity to, and 
fear of the Cunninghams, desired to get 
them out of his house, gave them notice to 
quit, and was to have leased the house to 
another party named Stansbury, on the 
day following the one on which he was 
murdered, — an arrangement which, if car- 
ried into effect, would have rendered Mrs. 
Cunningham and her daughters destitute 
and without a home. Finally, a loaded 
revolver and a safe-key were found in Mrs. 
Cunningham's possession, which belonged 
to Doctor Burdell. 

On the evidence thus elicited, Mrs. Cun- 
ningham, and Messrs. Eckel and Snod- 
grass, two of her boarders, were committed 
to prison, as parties concerned in the 
frightful deed. Mr. Eckel was a man of 
thirty-four years, being just two years 
younger than Mrs. Cunningham ; and 
Snodgrass was a young man of about 
twenty. They each and all protested their 
entire innocence, and Mrs. Cunningham, 
from the very first, carried out her as- 
sumed ignorance and guiltlessness of the 
murder with an adroitness which, judged 
by the subsequent developments in the 
case, must be regarded as unequaled in the 
annals of crime. Thus, on first being 
informed of the news of the murder, she 
began to cry most piteously. Mr. Snod- 
grass held her awhile on the bed. Mrs. 
Cunningham then seemed crazy, and tore 
her hair vehemently. Doctor Main, who 
entered the room immediately after the 
family is supposed to have first heard of 
the dreadful tragedj', stated that the 
j'oungest of the two J'oung ladies lay across 
the bed, and appeared to be in great 
agony, Mrs. Cunningham at the same time 
exclaiming, " He is dead, and I always 
liked him, and thought a great deal of 
him." William Cunningham testified 



628 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



that lie did not know what his mother said 
first, that she was running round the 
room, not knowing wliat to do, and tliat 
his sister fainted away on tlie bed. Snod- 
grass, in his evidence on this point, said : 
"I was sitting in Mrs. Cunningham's 
room, playing the banjo; the two Misses 
Cunningliam were tliere, and Mrs. Cun- 
ningham. The cook eame up and said, 
' You are enjoying yourselves so, and the 
doctor is dead down stairs ! ' They all 
(Snodgrass added) began to halloo. I 
immediately started down stairs, to see if it 
was true. I opened the door and saw Doc- 
tor Kurdell ; I met Mrs. Cunningham on 
the stairs as I returned. I do not remem- 
ber that she said anything. Miss Helen 
Cunningham fainted on the chair; her 
sister Augusta seemed excited, but did not 
faint. Mrs. Cunningham wanted to go 
down ; I would not let her." Doctor Rob- 
erts testified that Snodgrass sat by the chair, 
liolding Mrs. Cunningham, who was in a 
great state of excitement, as were also the 
daughters. " I tried to quiet them, staid 
a few moments, and went down and found, 
as we thought, that he had died in a fit. 
I then immediately went up to them, and 
told the ladies that it was not so bad as 
they imagined — that he had probably died 
a natural death ; tlien Mrs. Cunningham 
appeared to be a little more ea.«iy, and said, 
' Did he die a natural death ? ' Hon. 
David Ullman, who hired a lodging-room 
in the house, stated that, after the first 
outer}', he heard Mrs. Cunningham dash 
herself against the door separating the 
rooms, and exclaim, 'Doctor Burdell is 
dead! Oh, Mr. Ullman, Doctor Burdell is 
dead ! ' That the doctor was the victim of 
a most foul murder, fifteen dreadful stabs 
on his body at once proved. On afterward 
seeing the corpse, Mrs. Cunningliam threw 
licrself dramatically upon it, and wc|it con- 
vulsively as she embraced the gliastly 
form. 

The trial of Mrs. Cunningham, for the 
alleged commission of the murder, created 
an intense excitement throughout the 
land, the case being scarcely less cele- 
brated than the astounding murder of 



Doctor Parknian by Professor Webster, 
the terrible butchery of the printer Adams 
by John C. Colt, and the weird and my.s- 
terious assassination of that beautiful but 
infamous courtesan, Helen Jewett. In- 
deed, the profound sensation produced by 
the tragedy reached the farthermost coun- 
tries on the other side of the Atlantic, and, 
in almost every foreign journal, the cir- 
cumstances of the event were published in 
detail. 

It appeai-ed, in regard to Doctor Burdell, 
that he was about forty-five years of age, 
had acquireil a handsome propertj* in the 
practice of liis profession, was a director of 
the Artisans' Bank, sujijiosed to be unmar- 
ried, and owned the house in which he 




DOCTOR BURDELL. 



was murdered. He was a man of large 
frame, full habit, fond of wine and women's 
society, and, though penurious, a frequent 
visitor at houses of pleasure. He was a 
graduate of the Philadelphia Medical Col- 
lege. Mrs. Cunningham was a woman of 
fine looks, a native of Jamaica, L. I. Mr. 
Cunningham, a distiller, had died some 
years previously, his widow drawing ten 
thousand dollars on a life insurance which 
he had effected. Since that event, slie led 
a somewhat vagrant life, residing indiffer- 
ent places, under different names. She 
came from Saratoga in the autumn of 1855, 
when a Mrs. Jones was Doctor Burdell's 
tenant; and, on the strength of a jirevious 
ac<]uaintance with him, she obtained tem- 
porary accommodations in the house, and 
afterward, when Mrs. Jones removed to 
other quarters, she took charge for the 



GREAT AND MEMO It ABLE EVENTS. 



629 



doctor. Some time subsequently, she mis- 
carried, and laid the paternity to Doctor 
Burdell. A few months before tlie murder 
serious difficulties arose between the par- 
ties, Mrs. Cunningham being charged b}' 
the doctor with purloining papers from his 
safe. Such scandalous scenes ensued that, 
on one occasion, a policeman was called in. 
The woman reproached Doctor Burdell 
■with not fulfilling his promise of marrying 
her. She commenced a suit against 
Doctor Burdell, for breach of promise, 
which was ultimately adjusted. She sub- 
sequently produced a certificate of mar- 
riage with the doctor on the 28th of Octo- 
ber, 1856. 

Several witnesses testified to the great 
apprehensions for his j'ersonal safety ex- 
pressed by Doctor Burdell shortly before 
his deatli — fears of conspiracy and violence 
from persons in the house. To his friend 
Mr. Stevens, he said, "I am actually 
afraid to stay in m}' own house." Mr. 
Stevens remarked, " You are a man of 
means ; 1 would not stay if I feared for 
my life." The doctor said he was cau- 
tious, and he thought he would stay till 
May, and get the house clear. To one of 
ti\e female servants he also said that Jlrs. 
Cunningham had threatened his life — that 
she would take his life if he told some 
things about her and her daughter. On 
the day preceding the evening of the trag- 
edy, he had besought his friend, Doctor 
Blaisdell, to come and stay with him until 
May — to come that very night and sleep 
with him, as he did not feel safe un- 
der the circumstances. Doctor Blaisdell 
agreed to do so, but was detained at home 
by companv. On the same day, likewise, 
he remarked to the wife of Mr. Stevens, 
speaking of Mrs. Cunningham, " She 
thinks I am an old bachelor worth about 
one hundred thousand dollars, and do not 
know what I want myself. She is deter- 
mined I shall marry her, and I am deter- 
mined I shall not; out of the house she 
shall go." 

That the murder took place in the 
course of the night admitted of no doubt. 
The inmates of the house, except Mr. 



Ullman, had retired to rest before half-past 
eleven o'clock ; Mr. Ullman came in at 
half-past twelve, groped his way to his 
room on the third floor, went to bed, lay 
awake for some time, slept lightly, but 
heard no noise whatever. All the rest of 
the per.sons in the house disclaimed hear- 
ing any noise in the course of the night. 
Mr. Brook.s, living opposite, at No. 36, did 
hear a cry as of murder, shortly before 
eleven o'clock. At ten minutes before 
eleven, a strange man passed, and, when a 
few steps beyond No. 31, heard a shriek or 
cry. Jlr. William Ross testified to going 
from Broadway through Bond street at the 
same time, behind Doctor Burdell, whom 
he saw go up the steps of No. 31, enter 
with a latch-key, and disappear; he had 
gone but eight or ten yards farther, when 
he heard a cry of murder, as if from No. 
31, but on looking around, saw no one in 
the street. 

It appeared that Eckel was in the house 
the whole evening, with the exception of 
a few minutes ; in the parlor from nine 
to ten ; Mrs. Cunningham joined him 
there at half-past nine ; at ten, Mrs. Cun- 
ningham called up the cook, told her what 
to get for breakfast, and sent her to bed. 
At half-past ten, Snodgrass went down to 
the bastment, for water, and, returning to 
the tliird floor, found the whole family, 
Mr. Eckel included, in Mrs. Cunningham's 
bed-room. In a short time, Snodgrass 
retired to his room in the attic ; about 
three minutes before, Eckel, wlio had been 
sitting by the fire with his boots off, went 
to bed. When Snodgrass withdrew, he 
left Mrs. Cunningham and her two daugh- 
ters in the room. 

In regard to the movements of Doctor 
Burdell, on the fatal evening, he was seen 
to leave the house at half-past five in the 
afternoon, according to the testimony of 
Doctor Main, who lived opposite; at half- 
past nine, in the evening, he was seen 
standing at the corner of Bond street 
and the Bowery. Several witnesses de- 
scribed him as a passionate man, others 
as a quiet, gentlemanly, prudent man, but 
all agreed that he was extremely penurious. 



630 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



The appearance of Doctor Burdell's 
body, on ln-ing exaniinotl, was horrilile in 
the extreme. There were no less than 
fifteen stabs in the neck and breast, made 
with some narrow-bliuU-d sharp instru- 
ment. One of the cuts liad severed the 
jugular vein, and another nearly separated 
the vertebra?. Two of the wounds in the 
breast liud penetrated the heart. A cut on 
the left lappet was more than an inch 
long ; the next cut, just below the upper 
button-hole on the same side, was Hve- 
eightlis of an inch long; the next cut, one 
inch above the left breast-pocket, was one 
inch long; just above tlie foI>-pocket, on 
the same side, was another cut, seven- 
eightli.s of an inch long ; and at the junc- 
tion of the flotli and back, a little below 
the arm-hole, was a cut half an in<h long; 
— and after this manner was the whole 
upper part of the body frightfully covered 
with stalls. 

On the arraignment of Mrs. Cunning- 
ham for trial, the first witness called was 
Doctor Francis, who described minutely 
the position and character of all tlu- vari- 
ous wounds found on Doctor Burdell's 
bod\-, and also the mark of a ligature 
around his neck. The mark, when he saw 
the body, which was on the morning after 
the murder, was distinct on the front and 
on either side, and disappeared altogether 
before reaching the back jiart of the neck; 
this gave him the impression that the lig- 
ature had been applied from behind, and 
that the neck had been drawn buck ward. 
It had been said that the wound under the 
arm must have been inflicted by a left- 
handed person ; such had been Doctor 
Francis's opinion at first, but n'flcction 
had changed his mind, llannali ('milaii, 
the next witness, testified to iier residence 
as a domestic, in the house of Mrs. Cun- 
ningham, and to the bad state of feeling 
between Mrs. Cunningham and Doctor 
Burdell ; on one occasion, namely, after 
the lady who came to hire the house of 
Doctor Burdell had retired, Mrs. Cunning- 
ham came to the kitchen and asked what 
the lady's business was, and, on being told 
that Doctor Burdell was going to let the 



house to her, Mrs. Cunningham replied 
that the doctor might not live to rent the 
house or sign the i)apers. Other testi- 
mony, confirming this state of enmity 
between the parties, was given by a num- 
ber of persons. 

Perhaps the most important of what 
was received from the witnesses for the 
prosecution, was that elicited on the cross- 
examination of Doctor Ubl. The doctor's 
imi)ression appeared to be, that the wounds 
were intlicted by a tall person, having a 
considerable amount of anatomical knowl- 
edge. The situations, too, in which blood 
was found — in the doctor's room, on the 
stairway hall, on the hall floor, on the liall 
basement floor, on the hinge side of the 
basement front dour, and again on the 




UR9. CVKKIXGnA.M. 

door of the main entrance, — appeared to 
indicate that the person who committed 
the deed had jiasscd out of the room, down 
the stairs to the main floor; then turned 
and passed down into the basement hall, 
tried to find the knob of the front base- 
ment door, and failing, had returned and 
passed out of the main door into the street. 

There was considerable testimony elic- 
ited, bearing upon the impression that the 
wounds were dealt by a left-handed ])er- 
son, and that Mrs. Cunningham was a left- 
handed woman. The medical witnesses, 
however, gave no decided opinion as to 
what hand was used by the person who 
perpetrate<l the deed, and witnesses famil- 
iar with Mrs. Cunningham had failed to 
notice any unusual use of lier left hand. 

Much weight was attached to the testi- 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



631 



mony of Mary Donohoe, who had lived for 
two months with Mrs. Cunningham, as 
chambermaid. She went out on the 
Wednesday evening preceding the murder, 
and, being ill, did not return again prior 
to that event. She was there, however, at 
the time when the terrible dispute arose 
between Mrs. Cunningham and Doctor 
Burdell. The doctor rushed down stairs 
to the basement, very much agitated, and 
expressed himself that he must endeavor 
to get rid of such a concern out of the 
house. He told Hannah, the cook, that 
the eldest daughter had torn his hair and 
abused him ; he then seemed to go out for 
an officer, staid a few moments, and one 
of the detached jiolice soon came, the two 
standing and talking outside. Miss Helen 
tried to get him in, saying, " Doctor, if 
you will come up stairs along with me, I 
will get my mother to give you those 
papers." Mrs. Cunningham told Hannah 
afterward, that they were some important 
papers he accused her of having stolen 
from his safe ; after this, witness heard no 
more loud talk, and soon after the doctor 
went out for his dinner. When Mrs. 
Cunningham insisted upon witness going 
to bed at nine o'clock, witness refused, on 
the ground that it was unreasonable ; on 
Saturday, the twenty-fourth, just one week 
previous to the murder, Mrs. Cunningham 
came down four times, and at last sat down 
in the basement, and said she would not 
leave until witness went to bed. Mr. 
Eckel, during the month of January, was 
always in Mrs. Cunningham's bed-room, 
and witness supposed they were going to 
be married ; never saw the same famil- 
iarity between Doctor Burdell and Jlrs. 
Cunningham, as between her and Eckel. 
Mrs. Cunningham said it was time Doctor 
Burdell was out of the world, for he was 
not fit to live in it ; and Augusta said he 
was a bad man, in the presence of Eckel 
at the breakfast table. At the time of the 
quarrel with the doctor, Snodgrass was 
seemingl}' very mad against the doctor, 
saying that he ought to get his head 
knocked in; next morning, at breakfast, 
they all said he was an old devil — he 



should have been compelled to stay out; 
Eckel sat beside Mrs. Cunningham, and 
looked leeringly at her, — he had got the 
habit of going down stairs and going 
about the place, seemed to be taking the 
master}^ of the house upon him, and twice 
he bolted the door, and even closed the 
little shutters at the sides. Witness also 
stated that Doctor Burdell was a very 
quiet gentleman, except when Mrs. Cun- 
ningham put him into a passion ; Mrs. 
Cunningham had keys with which she 
could go into his room at any time. Han- 
nah said that Mrs. Cunningham told her 
that she had a halter about his neck, and 
could fix him at any time when he was 
cross. 

Another witness testified that she called 
upon Doctor Burdell the week before the 
murder, at which time he said that he had 
let his house to a lady, the most horrible 
woman he had ever met, and verj' artful, 
one who would do anything for the pur- 
pose of accomplishing what she undertook ; 
that he suspected foul plaj', and did not 
like the waj' thej' were prowling about the 
house — that he had lost papers and the 
key of his safe, and nothing was private to 
him ; he said, " Thank heaven ! I will get 
rid of them all on the first of May." He 
said Mrs. Cunningham would outwit the 
devil, and he would rather be in the hands 
of the devil than in those of a woman like 
her ; that he would never make a contract 
with another woman ; said he was not mar- 
ried, but farther from it than ever; had 
never been so taken in before ; he said, " I 
am prepared for them — I am watching." 

But, notwithstanding the powerful chain 
of circumstantial evidence im2:)licatingMrs. 
Cunningham in the crime, — the vast mass 
of testimonj' going to show that upon her, 
almost alone, rested the full weight of sus- 
picion, — she was acquitted by the jury, for 
want of legal proof, and Eckel was also 
discharged. 

Another chapter, however, in this drama 
of blood and mystery, was to open. Claim- 
ing to be the widow of Doctor Burdell, 
Mrs. Cunningham had lost no time after 
the commission of the murder, in applying 



632 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



for letters of administration upon his 
estate. Rumors, too, were rife, that the 
marriage was not to be an unfruitful one, 
and she herself did not deny the truth of 
the rumor, but adopted the most unmis- 
takable means of giving it the appearance 
of truth. Indeed, while she was still an 
inmate of the Tombs, awaiting her trial 
for murder, she communicated the fact of 
her pregnancy to the matron of that estab- 
lishment, and by her " make-up " and 
other corroborative circumstances, removed 
all doubt from that lady's mind. She also 
consulted Doctor Ulil as to her condition, 
and got him to prescribe tlie medicines fit- 
ted for a lady so situated. Doctor Uhl had 
been her ph^'sician for some time previously, 
and, on account of his theory of the mur- 
der, was an important witness in her 
favor on the trial. He does not appear to 
have had his suspicions aroused at first. 

Subsequently, and after her acquittal by 
the jury, slie again on several occivsions 
consulted Doctor UIil, and desired to en- 
gage his services on the eventful occasion. 
He suggested to her the propriety, in view 
of the importance of the matter, of having 
a preliminary examination made by two 
or more respectable physicians. Mrs. 
Cunningham at first admitted the force of 
the suggestion, and expressed herself will- 
ing and an.\ious to have it done, request- 
ing Doctor Uhl to make the necessary 
arrangements for it. The doctor could not 
fail to perceive that she avoided such an 
examination as he proposed. This and 
other little circumstances which he noticed, 
awakened his suspicion.*, and led Iiim to 
believe that her pregnancy was a sham. 

At a subsequent interview she admitted 
to Doctor Uhl that her pregnancy was 
simulated, and offered the doctor one thou- 
sand dollars to procure her a baby. 

Doctor Uhl, on advice of counsel, com- 
municated all he knew to the district 
attorney, who urged Doctor Uhl to con- 
tinue to wink at the deception, until 
matters should be fully ripe for a complete 
exposure and detection. Having ascer- 
tained, through Doctor Uhl, that Mrs. 
Cunningham had selected the 28th of 



July, or tliereabouts, for the time of her 
accouchment, Mr. Hall, the district attor- 
ney, was on the look-out ; and the plan 
which Doctor Uhl proposed to his patient, 
and which seemed to please and gratify 
her immensely, was this : Doctor Uhl pro- 
fessed to have the good luck of being 
engaged by a woman in Elm street, con- 
venient to Bond, to assist her in her 
approaching confinement. This woman 
was represented to be one of those matrons 
known, at that period, as "California 
widows," who \\ould be overjoyed at being 
relieved of a responsibility on which her 
husband had not calculated. Neither 
woman was to see or know the other. 




IK'l ~i IS uiilcu 1>I(. liritUELL WAS UUUDEBCD, 

Apaitmiiits were procured on Elm 
street, and were furnished by ilr. Hall, 
for the proper reception of the lying-in 
woman. Four jiolicemen were detailed to 
keep a close look-out on ol Hond street. 
An infant that had been born on Saturday 
at Bellevue Hospital was visited by Mr. 
Hall, and having been marked .«o as to be 
easily identified, was sent down with a 
nurse to 190 Elm street. There a jihysician 
was in waiting, duly night-<-apped and meta- 
morphosed, to personate the California 
lady; and Doctor Uhl was there to deliver 
over the body to a Sister of Charity, to be 
represented on that occasion by Mrs. Cun- 
ningham. Tlie hour of nine o'clock was 
fixed as the time for that t/fiwiienient, 
Mrs. Cunningham was to proceed to Elm 



GREAT AND JIEMOIIABLE EVENTS. 



633 



street, dressed as a Sister of Charity, to 
receive the little stranger. 

Mrs. Cunningham was duly tracked, by 
Police-Captain Speight, from 31 Bond 
street to Elm street, and seen to return 
with a basket containing the baby. She 
was permitted to enter her house, and at 
eleven o'clock a domiciliary visit was paid 
bj' the officers. 

The scene in the bed-room was melodra- 
matic. Doctor De la Montague, (a con- 
nection of Mr. Hall,) and Police-Inspector 
Dilks rang the door-bell, but there was no 
answer. The doctor then rang violentlj-, 
when the door was soon opened by two 
women, who objected to their coming in, 
and asked what was wanted at that late 
hour. The callers excused themselves for 
being there at such a time, bj' saying they 
had intercepted a doctor who stated that 
there had been a delivery in the house, — 
Inspector Dilks remarking that he had 
come to see if it was all right. To this, 
one of the women replied that Mrs. Bur- 
dell was sick and could not be seen. The 
two then closely followed the women up 
stairs, and entered the upper second-story 
hall. One of the women looked into the 
front large room and said, " There are two 
gentlemen who wish to come in ; " a voice 
said from within, "Lock that door — they 
must not come in — I tell you to lock that 
door ! " 

Doctor Uhl had previously been sum- 
moned to repair immediately to No. 31 
Bond street, as Mrs. Burdell was then suf- 
fering with labor pains. On arriving, he 
was ushered into a dark room, where Mrs. 
Cunningham was in bed. She feigned to 
be very sick, and groaned in apparent 
agony; the nurse was washing the child. 
While he was there, Doctor Catlin, one of 
Mrs. Cunningham's accomplices, brought 
in a pail of blood and smeared the sheets, 
and otherwise made it appear that a birth 
had actually taken place. Mrs. Cunning- 
ham exclaimed soon after, " I have put my 
trust in God, and he has favored me; I 
shall now be revenged upon my persecu- 
tors." On being asked by Doctor De la 
Montagne, " Do j-ou claim this child as the 



child of Harvey Burdell ? " she said, " Of 
course, whose else should it be ? " On the 
officers entering her room, they found the 
two nurses busily preparing some warm 
drink for the pretended patient. On the 
infant being removed by the officers, Mrs. 
Cunningham said, "Don't take away my 
dear baby from me." Doctor De la Mon- 
tagne demanded, in the presence of the 
officers, to see the umbilical cord. Mrs. 
Cunningham and the nurse objected, but 
after some persuasion, gave their consent. 
He then removed the bandage and saw the 
piece of pocket-handkerchief on the cord, 
which was placed there at 190 Elm street. 
The infant was now taken to Bellevue 
Hospital and restored to its mother, a 
lyiug-in patient in that institution. Doc- 
tor Catlin turned state's evidence, and 
exposed the fictitious birth. Mrs. Cun- 
ningham escaped the penalty attaching to 
so flagrant a crime, because of the irregu- 
lar proceedings which had been resorted to 
by the officers of the law in enabling her 
to consummate her plans. She failed, 
however, to establish her claim to having 
been married to Doctor Burdell, and thus 
the whole amazing and abhorrent scheme, 
by which she was to obtain possession of 
the doctor's property, utterly miscarried. 

Two of the most terrible tragedies, 
therefore, arising from the guilty relation of 
libertine and mistress, have thus been fur- 
nished by New York, namely, the murder 
of Doctor Burdell by the hands or at the 
instigation of Mrs. Cunningham, and that 
of the brilliant and beautiful, but depraved 
courtesan, Helen Jewett. This last-named 
tragedy occurred April 9, 1836. Rich- 
ard P. Robinson, the alleged perpetrator 
of this horrid deed, had for some time been 
in the habit of "keeping'' a girl named 
Helen Jewett, at No. 41 Thomas street, a 
noted house of ill-fame, kept by Rosina 
Townsend, — one of the most splendid of 
the Palaces of Pleasure and Passion to be 
found in that city. 

Having, as he suspected, some cause for 
jealousy, he went to the house on that 
fatal night, with the intention of murder- 
ing her, for he carried a hatchet with him. 



634 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



On going up into Iter room, quite late at 

niglit, lie mentioned his suspicions, ex- 
pressed Ills determination to quit her, and 
demanded his watch and miniature, to- 
gether with some letters which were in 
her possession. She refused to give them 
up, and he tlicn drew from beneath liis 
cloak the hatcliot, and inflicted upon her 
liead three blows, either of which must 
have proved fatal, as the bone was cleft to 
the extent of three inches in each place. 
Siie died without a struggle ; and the cold- 
blooded villain then set fire to the bed, 
after which he ran down stairs secretlj-, 
went out of the back door, and escaped to 
his boarding-house. In a short time, Jlrs. 
Townsend was aroused by the smell of 
smoke, and, rushing up stairs, saw the bed 
on fire and the mangled bod^- of the unfor- 
tunate girl upon it. She ran down, raised 
the alarm, and the watchmen, running to 
the spot, rescued the body and preserved 
tlie house from being consumed. 

A cloak was found in the yard, which, 
being identified as that of Robinson, at 
once the murderer was suspected. Re- 
ceiving such information as the horror- 
stricken inmates could furnish them, the 
policemen proceeded on their search for 
the assassin, and in a short time Robinson 
was arrested in his bed, and brought at 
once to the house where had been com- 
mitted the awful crime. On seeing the 
body, he exhibited no signs of emotion, 
but gazed around and on his victim coolly 
and calmly. 

The coroner was summoned, a jury 
formed, and, after a patient examination 
of the testimony, a verdict was rendered 
that " she came to her death by blows upon 



her head, inflicted with a hatchet, by 
Richard P. Robinson." But, notwith- 
standing the weight of evidence against 
him, at the regular trial, the jury failed to 
convict him of the deed. Among other 
proofs of his guilt, was the comjilete iden- 
tification of the cloak found, as that be- 
longing to Robinson and worn by him that 
evening, and the identification of the 
bloody hatchet as one that belonged to 
Robinson's employer, Mr. Joseph Hoxie, 
and which had been missing from the 
store exactly from the day of the mur- 
der. 

The extreme youthfulness — only nine- 
teen 3'ears, — handsome appearance, and 
social standing of Robinson, and the repu- 
tation of Helen Jewett, as one of the most 
beautiful and accomplished " women of 
I)leasure," invested tlie case with an all- 
pervading public interest. She was well- 
known to every pedestrian on Broadway, 
and had probably seduced, by her jiersonal 
attractions, more j"oung men than any 
other of her degraded class. She was 
oftentimes conspicuous on Wall street, 
which slio paraded in an elegant green 
dress, and generally with a letter in her 
hand. Her walk was in the style of an 
English woman, and she gazed with great 
boldness of demeanor upon the gentlemen 
who passed by. Her handwriting was 
beautiful, and she carried on an extensive 
correspondence with acquaiiUances in all 
parts of the country. Not a fulsome 
expression nor an unchaste word was 
found in any of the letters written by her. 
Her wit, talents, beauty, and depravity, 
constituted her a remarkable character, 
and she came to a remarkable end. 



LXXIV. 

FOUNDERING OF THE STEAMER CENTRAL AMERICA, IN 
A GALE OFF CAPE HATTERAS.— 1857. 



More than Four Hundred Lives Lost, and Two Million Dollars in Treasure. — Fury and Terror of the 
Tempest. — The Staunch and Noble Vessel Springs a Leak. — Successive Great and Terrible Waves 
Break Over and Drag Her Under, in the Night. — The Tale of Peril, Suffering, Despair, Parting, and 
Death. — Unparalleled Nature of this Disaster. — Hundreds of Homes Desolated — Gloom of the Pub- 
lic Mind. — The Financial Panic Aggravated — Uise of the Fatal Gale. — Hard Labor of the Steamer. 
— A Leak Caused by the Strain. — Incessant Working at the Pumps. — Four An.xiou9 Days. — 
Approach of the Brig Marine — Women and Children Rescued — Perils of the Life-boat. — Terrible 
Height of the Sea. — Harrowing Experiences — The Two Little Babes. — Gradual Filling of the Ship. 
— Three Plunges, and She Sinks. — Captain Herndon on the Wheel-house — His Sad but Heroic End. 
— A Night on the Waves — Dead and Living Float Together. — Narratives of the Survivors. 



' I will never leave the ship. '—Captain Ubrndoit. 



>v 



.^ 



TITLE the countiy was just entering upon the most 
disastrous epoch, in respect to business and finance, 
th it CMT Ik f( II a commercial nation, the general 
a]i)iiilic ii^ion and gloom possessing men's minds sud- 
denly took the form of 
horror, as the tidings 
broke upon the public 
ear, that the steamer 
Central America had 
foundered off Cape Hat- 
teras, with the loss of 
more than four hundred 
lives and nearly two 
millions of treasure, — a 
disaster never before 
equaled in American 
waters. 

The steamship Central 
America, formerly the 
George Law, commanded by Lieutenant W. L. Herndon, United States Navy, left 
Aspinwall for New York, on the third of September, 1857, having on board the pas- 
sengers and treasure shipped from San Francisco, by the steamer Sonera, on the 
twentieth of August. On Saturday, the twelfth of September, at eight o'clock in the 
evening, she was totally wrecked, on the eastern edge of the Gulf Stream off Cape 




CAPTAIN UERNDON OS TUE WUEEL-nOCSE. 



636 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Hatteras, and, out of nearly six IiundrL-d 
persons on board at the time, about tliri-f- 
fourtlis went down with her, together with 
tlie vast amount of bullion, and the j)ro- 
digious California mails. Hundreds of 
family circles, in all jiarts of the land, were 
thus suddeidy bereaved and desolated ; 
and, so direful was the disaster, as to 
greatly aggravate the financial panic that 
had just begun to shake and shatter the 
foundations of the business world. 

The gale which caused this terrible 
calamity was described by experienced 
seamen as one of the fiercest ever known. 
It commenced on the evening of the eighth 
— the day on which the Central America 
left Havana — and continued, lulling at 
intervals, until the night of the twelftli. 
On the latter da^', it rose to the power of 
an apj)alliiig hurricane, against which the 
ship labored very hard. A low, gloomj' 
sky shut out tlie sun by day, and the stars 
by night; the sea did not rise into waves, 
but was one plain of foam, over which a 
heavy mist of spray was driven b)' the force 
of the wind. On the morning of Friday, 
the eleventh, the ship was discovered to 
have sprung a leak. This appears to have 
extinguished the fires almost inimediatelv; 
the steam pumps were, therefore, useless, 
and the only hope was in bailing, as the 
ship even then was making water very 
fast. The passengers worked vigorously 
at the buckets, and at first with so niucli 
success that tlie fires were again liglited — 
but only ii}T a few moments; the water 
returned, and extinguished them forever. 

So terrific was tlie power of the ele- 
ments, that the vessel was now completely 
at the mercy of the winds and waves. 
During tlie whole of tlie night of the 
eleventh, the bailing was kept up with 
unremitting energy, but on the morning 
of the twelfth, in s[(ite of all efforts to keep 
her afloat, the ship was evidently sinking 
fast. The passengers continued to de- 
mean themselves, however, with the great- 
est pro])riety ; there was no weeping, no 
exhibition of despair, even among the 
women. At two o'clock, in the afternoon, 
a sail was reported to windward, and in 



about an liour after, tlie brig Marine, C:.p- 
taiu Burt, of Boston, came up under the 
Central America's stern. Boats were now- 
lowered, but two were instantly swamped 
and destro^-ed, the sea being at a terrible 
height. Three boats still remained, tliough 
one of them was in a bad condition. At 
four o'clock the work of removing tlie 
women and children to the deck of the 
Jlarine was commenced. The brig, how- 
ever, being much lighter than the ship, 
had drifted two or three miles to leeward, 
and the lioats were long in making their 
trips. After the women and children had 
all been safely jdaced on board, the chief 
engineer and some fifteen others took the 
boats, made for the brig, and did not 
return. It was now dark. About two 
liours before the sinking of the ship, a 
schooner ran down under her stern, but 
could render no assistance for want of 
boats, just then. This was the El Dorado, 
Captain Stone, who, as stated by him, 
supposing from Captain Hemdon's asking 
him to lie by until morning, that the 
steamer would be kept afloat till that time, 
made all the preparations in his power to 
assist. The vessels drifted apart in the 
storm, though the lights from the steamer 
were visible to the schooner until nearly 
eight o'clock, when they suddenly- disajv 
peared. Captain Stone then ran as near 
the spot as could be ascertained, but could 
discover nothing of the steamer. 

Until within au hour of the fatal event, 
the passengers continued to bail. Life- 
preservers were then given out to them. 
Captain Herndon stood upon the wheel, 
and was heard to sa^', "/ will never leare 
the ship." The final scene took place 
more suddenly, and at an earlier period, 
than her unfortunate passengers antici- 
pated. All at once the ship made a 
plunge at an angle of forty-Jive degrees, 
and then disappeared forever. 

A simultaneous .shriek of agony rose 
from five hundred human voices, and five 
hundred human beings were now floating 
on the bosom of the ocean, with no hope 
but death. 

About half-past one o'clock, on the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



637 




iiiurniiig of the 
thirteenth, the 
Norwegian bark 
Ellen came run- 
ning down with a free wind. The cries of 
distress from the Central America's pas- 
sengers were heard, and the Ellen hove-to 
under short sail. And now the task of res- 
cuing those who had been able to survive 
in the water for some five hours was com- 
menced, and, by nine o'clock in the fore- 
noon, thirty-one men were rescued. Dili- 
gent search was made until twelve o'clock, 
but no more survivors could be seen, so the 
Ellen bore away for Norfolk, where the 
passengers rescued by her, as well as 
those taken off by the Marine, were placed 
on board the steamer Empire City, and 
conveyed to New York. Out of a total of 
five hundred and seventy-nine persons on 
board — four hundred and seventy-four pas- 
sengers and a crew of one hundred and 
five — only one hundred and fifty-two were 
saved. Captain Herndon, the brave com- 
mander, stood courageously at his post to 
the last, and went down with his noble 
vessel. He was one of the most brilliant 
officers in the American naval service, 
distinguished himself in the Mexican 
war, assisted for some years in the con- 



duct of the national observatory at 
Washington, and in 1851-2 explored the 
Amazon river, under the direction of the 
United States government. 

Among the thrilling narratives of the 
wreck and of their own personal suffer- 
ings, given by some of the passengers, 
that by Mr. George furnishes an idea of 
the terrors of a night on the waves. Mr. 
George was one of the hundreds who had 
supplied themselves with life-preservers, 
pieces of plank, etc., and preferred to 
await the ship's going down to leaping 
overboard in anticipation of her fate. 
When she went down stern foremost, after 
giving three lurches that made every tim- 
ber quiver, and which were to everv quak- 
ing heart as the thi'oes that instantly pre- 
ceded her dissolution, he was dragged, 
with the rest on board of her, some twenty- 
five feet below the surface. He heard no 
shriek — nothing but the seething rush 
and hiss of waters that closed above her as 
she hurried, almost with the speed of an 
arrow, to her ocean bed. Night had 
closed in before the vessel sank, and he 
was sucked in by the whirlpool caused by 
her swift descent, to a depth that was 
seemingly unfathomable, and into a dark- 
ness that he had never dreamed of. Com- 



638 



OUR FIKST CENTUKY.— 1776-1876. 



pared with it, the blackest night, witliout 
moon or star, was as the broad nooiuhi}-. 
He was rather stunned than stifled, and 
his sensations on coming to the surface 
were ahnost as painful, from their reaction, 
as those which he endured at the greatest 
depth to which he sank. When he became 
conscious, after tlie hipse of a minute or 
two, he could distinguish every object 
around him for a considerable distance. 
Tlie waves, as they rose and fell, revealed 
a crowd of human heads. Those unfortu- 
nates who had lost their life-preservers or 
]ilanks while under water, owing to the 
force of the wliirlpoool, were frantically 
snatching at the broken pieces of the 
wreck, which, breaking from the ship as 
she continued to descend, leaped above the 
surface, and fell back with a heavy splash. 
Then cries arose that mingled into one 
inarticulate wail, and then the lustier and 
less terrified shouted for assistance to the 
Marine, which was far beyond hailing dis- 
tance. The waves dashed them one 
against another at first, but speedily they 
began to separate, and the last farewells 
were taken. One man called to another, 
in Mr. George's hearing — 

" If you are saved, Frank, send my love 
to my dear wife!" 

But, alas ! the friend .appealed to an- 
swered only with a gurgle of the throat, 
for he was washed off his plank, and per- 
ished as his companion spoke. Many were 
desirous of separating themselves as far as 
possible from the rest, being fearful lest 
some desperate straggler might seize hold 
of them, and draw them under. OtJiers, 
afraid of their loneliness, called to their 
neighbors to keep together. Generally', 
they strove to cheer each other as long as 
they remained within hearing, and when 
the roar of the waves drowned all but tlie 
loudest shouting, the call of friendship or 
the cry of despair was heard in the dis- 
tance, and infused confidence or increased 
dismay in many a bosom. 

It w.is wJien he had drifted far from the 
companionship of any of his fellows in 
misfortune, that Mr. George began to real- 
ize his situation. The night was quite 



dark. Occasionally, as the driving clouds 
parted and gave a glimpse of sky, a star or 
two would be visible, but this was very 
seldom, and offered but the faintest gleam 
of hope tliat the morning would dawn fair 
and calm. The swell of the sea was great, 
and successively the poor floaters, holding 
on to their ]ilanks with the energy of 
despair, were riding on the brink of a 
precipice and buried in a deep valley of 
water. ^lany of the poor creatures were 
also seized with the fear of sharks. Res- 
piration, too, was very difficult, owing to 
the masses of water which were constantly 
dashed upon the stragglers, as wave after 
wave rolled by. For two or three hours, 
the w.iter was not unpleasantly cold, and 
it was not until Sunday- morning, and a 
fresh, chilling wind arose, that their limbs 
began to feel benumbed. 

Some of the incidents that occurred in 
connection with a shipwreck attended witli 
such wholesale loss of life, were sad in- 
deed. One man, floating in solitude, and 
terrificil at his loneliness, after shouting 
liiniself hoarse to find a cumiianion, saw at 
length a man with two life-preservers 
fastened about his body drifting toward 
him. His heart leajied with joy at the 
welcome sight, for the feeling of desolation 
which had overcome him was terrible to 
endure. He called to the other to join 
him if possible, and made every e.xertion 
to meet him half-way. There was no 
reply, but the other drifted nearer and 
nearer. A wave threw them together. 
They touched. The liviny man shrieked 
in the face of a corpse ! The other had 
been drowned by tlie dash of the billows, 
or had perished from exhaustion. 

When, rising and falling with the swell 
of the waves, the lights of the bark Ellen 
were first discerned by the survivors in the 
water, the thrill of hope that at once filled 
every bre.ist amounted, it m.ay well be 
believed, to a perfect ecstasy. Jlr. George 
.says: "I never felt so tliankful in all my 
life. I never knew what gratitude was 
before. I do not know wlietlier I cried or 
not, but I know I was astonished to hear 
my own l.iugliter ringing in my ears. I 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



639 



do not know why I laughed. That verse, 
'God moves in a mysterious way,' kept 
passing in and out of me — through me, 
rather, as if I had been the pipe of an 
organ. It did not come to me by my own 
volition, but somehow made me remember 
it. When the lights approached nearer, a 
score of voices sprang up around me, 
crying, 'Ship ahoij!' 'Boat ahoij ." and 
then I began to shout too. And I had 
never any doubt that I should be saved 
till I saw the lights pass by, about half a 
mile from where I was, and recede in the 
distance. Then I began to give mj-self up 



was hailed by Captain Herndon, and told 
of the desperate situation of affairs. The 
captain of the brig said he would do for 
them all that he could, aud brought his 
vessel close under the steamer's stern, the 
distance between the two vessels immedi- 
ately increasing. The captain at once 
called the ladies, and told them to prepare 
to get into the boats. But to get in was 
a difficult matter, as the waves were so 
high. However, a noose was made in a 
rope, and a lady seated herself in it, hold- 
ing on to the rope at the same time, when 
she was lowered safely into the boat. 




VICTIMS OF THE CESTRAL AMERICA. 



for lost indeed. But I slowly drifted 
toward her again, till I could make out her 
hull and one of her masts, and presently I 
floated close to her, and shouted, and was 
taken up. When I got on the deck I 
could not stand. I did not know till then 
how exhausted I was." He was one of 
the few who were rescued at the last 
moment. 

The statement made by one of the lady 
passengers, Mrs. Birch, was, that, at about 
noon, of Saturday, when they had almost 
given up hope, the brig Marine was seen 
at some little distance off, bearing rapidly 
down toward the Central America; she 



This process was repeated with all, but 
many got saturated — for, just as they 
would be ready to get in, a large wave 
would come, sway the boat from the ves- 
sel's side, and of course the lady would 
descend into the water. One ladj' had 
this experience two or three times, but in 
the end they were scarcely worse off than 
the rest, for, as they were being convej^ed 
to the brig, the waves dashed over the 
boat and drenched them all thoroughly. 
A man, who was one of the stewards, got 
in, as he said, to help row the boat, but he 
did not understand the work, and the 
sailors made him lie down in the bottom of 



640 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the boat ; the boat was roweJ by four 
men, and steered by the boatswain of the 
sliip. Cliief-Enginecr Asliby su[)erintended 
getting the passengers into the boat. All 
who were rescued by the brig were on 
board b}' six o'clock in the afternoon. 
Toward evening, seeing a schooner close 
under the bow of the steamer, all anxiety 
was dismissed, in regard to the friends who 
had been left behind. It soon became 
dark, and nothing was ever seen again of 
the sinking steamer. On board the ^la- 
rine — :i very sinidl vessel, with a cabin 
scarcely larger than an ordinary state- 
room on a steamer — there were thirt}--one 
women, twenty-six children, and forty-one 
men, all being ver}' much crowded. The 
vessel had also lost part of her foremast 
and bowsprit, and was peculiarly unsuited 
to accommodate such a companj- ; they 
slept, therefore, on the top of the deck 
cabins, using the spare sails for beds. 
Some of the women had no clothes to cover 
their children, and they took the sheets 
and made them into garments. 

But the most remarkable individual 
experience, in this terrible catastrophe, 
was that of Alexander Grant, one of the 
firemen of the ill-fated steamer. Though 
but a 3'oung man, this was the fourth time 
he had been wrecked, escaping only 
through great hardship and peril. AVhen 
a boy, on a Fall River schooner, he was 
wrecked in the Bay of Fundy, and barely 
saved his life. Subsequently, he was fire- 
man on the Collins steamer Arctic, and 
when that vessel went down, he was left 
floating on a piece of timber, in the broad 
Atlantic ; after several daj's of intense 
suffering, he was picked up by the ship 
Cambria, and carried with Captain Luce 
to Quebec. Afterwards, he became fire- 
man on the steamship Crescent City, and 
when that vessel went ashore on the Ba- 
hamas had a third inost narrow escape 
with his life. Still he did not quit the 
sea, but engaged again as fireman on 
board the Central America, and was on her 
when she went down. Just as the steamer 
was sinking, he, with nine others, got 
upon a piece of the hurricane deck which 



they had previously cut clear, and, when 
the vessel sank, the remnant floated off 
with them. 

And now, with the energ}' inspired by 
hope, the}' held on to the raft by ropes, 
but the sea washed over them constantly, 
causing them to swallow a large quantity 
of salt water. They spent that night on 
the raft, i)raying and hoping for relief. 
When day broke, they could see the brig 
Marine, a long way off; but, although 
they made every effort to attract the atten- 
tion of her people, they were not seen. 
Without food or water, on a few frail 
jdanks in the yawning ocean, these ten 
endured unutterable sufferings. All day 
and night, they saw others struggling 
around them in the angry waters ; but 
although they eagerly scanned the horizon, 
no friendl}' sail hove in sight. As the 
darkness stole on, their hopes sank, and 
man}' of the poor creatures, famished and 
thirsty, and sorely buffeted by the waves, 
grew delirious. Some swore and raved in 
tlieir insanity; others babbled of cool and 
limjiid springs, whose clear watere flowed 
mockingly at their feet, — or dreamed of 
rich feasts, to which they were invited, 
spread before their famished eyes, but 
from which they were withheld by a super- 
human power. 

During Sundav night, eight of the ten 
persons on the raft, worn out by their suf- 
ferings, were washed off, and drowned. 
On Monday morning, the same cheerless 
prosi)ect greeted the survivors. In a short 
time, they floated near a piece of plank, on 
which was a colored passenger from the 
steamer, George W. Dawson by name. 
He was helped on to the raft; and toward 
evening a second man was picked up. 
Time wore on slowly and painfully, with- 
out hope or relief, and death was fast 
drawing nigh unto all of them. The raft 
had now become so light, however, owing 
to the number who had been swept off, 
that the remaining survivors could kneel, 
the water being barely a foot deep ; and 
in this kneeling position, they contrived 
for a while to sleep. On Tuesday, they 
fell in with a passenger who was floating 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



641 



on a part of what was once the captain's 
room. They offered him a place on their 
raft, but he declared that he was better off 
as he was, as he could paddle himself 
round, and pick up anything he saw. 
Next day, two of the four tenants of the 
raft became deranged and fell off, leaving 
only Grant and Dawson. 

It was now the fifth day of Grant's 
hapless and suffering condition, as a 
drifter upon the wide ocean. On this day, 
as he narrates, •' I saw a boat three miles 
off, but could not tell whether there was 
any one in it or not, but thought there 
was. I resolved, therefore, to reach it if 
possible, and accordingly I divested myself 
of all but my underclothing, and tying a 
life-preserver around me, I jumped into 
the sea and swam toward the boat with all 
my might. I cannot say how long I was 
before I finally reached the boat ; but 
before I got to her I discovered a man 
sitting down and trying to scull the boat 
toward me. On reaching the side of the 
boat, the man (who proved to be Mr. 
Tice,) helped me in. The boat, which, 
when secured by Mr. Tice, was full of 
water, had been bailed out by him through 
the aid of a bucket and tin pan which he 
had found in it, in addition to three oars 
in good order, which had remained in the 
boat after being swamped. The hole in 
the bottom of the boat for allowing the 
water to drain out on being taken on board 
ship, and which was open on being discov- 
ered by Mr. Tice, had been plugged up by 
him by a thole-pin, so that when I got 
into her she was in fine trim. Mr. Tice 
and myself immediately pulled the boat as 
fast as possible to the hurricane deck, and 
took Mr. Dawson in. He was as strong 
as either of us, as we had all been without 
food from twelve o'clock at noon of the 
Saturday before, and were completely ex- 
hausted, as we had been incessantly at 
work for some thirty-six hours before the 
ship went down, in trying to save her, and 
none of us had cared to eat but a very 
little during that time. After jtaking 
Dawson on board, we allowed the boat to 
drift with the wind to seaward, not being 
41 



able to help ourselves if we had wished, 
and not knowing which way to pull." On 
Sunday, the eighth day of the shipwreck, 
a sail was seen ; but after tantalizing the 
poor sufferers for a coujjle of hours, she 
disappeared in the far distance. 

It was not until the ninth day, that 
relief came to these unfortunates. "I 
left the ship," says Mr. Tice, " on a board, 
just as she went down. I had no life-pre- 
server, and had no time to get one. I saw 
others with them on, struggling in the 
water ; they seemed to do but little good. 
The last object I saw was Captain Hern- 
don, as the ship was sinking. I drifted 
awaj' from the others almost immediately, 
and was three days on that board, expect- 
ing every moment to be my last. On the 
third day, I fell in with a boat, which was 
about half full of water. I swam to it, got 
in with great difficulty, and succeeded in 
bailing out the water. I was two days in 
the boat when I fell in with a portion of 
the hurricane deck, and two men. Grant 
and Dawson, succeeded in getting into the 
boat with me. We floated around till the 
ninth daj', when we were picked up by 
the brig Mary. All that time we had 
nothing to eat, and not a drop of fresh 
water. Most of the time, the sea was 
breaking over the boat. We suffered 
everything but death. No man could 
describe what we endured." Grateful, 
beyond expression, were these famished 
and wasted men, for the kindness of the 
"good old Scotch captain of the Mary," 
who, after taking them into the cabin, 
removed their clothing and gave them a 
sip of wine, and afterward water and 
gruel, gradually increasing the amount, as 
they were able to take the same without 
injurj'. They were found to have been 
severely bruised, and exposure to the 
action of salt water had produced boils all 
over their persons. 

In the labor of pumping out the Central 
. America, to prevent her from sinking, the 
men became excessively wearied, and it 
gradually wore them out. When, there- 
fore, the ladies found that the men could 
not hold out much longer, some of them 



642 



OUR FIKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



proposed to work themselves at the pumps. 
But they were not suffered to do this. 
The meu took fresh courage and staid at 
tlieir posts, doing their duty bravely, even 
when they were long past fit for it. The 
ladies were in no worse spirits toward tlie 
end than they were at the beginning of 
the danger ; in fact, they all ai)peared to 
grow more and more calm and resigned as 
matters progressed. Those who had no 
young children to take care of, and to bo 
anxious for, were quite as brave and liope- 
ful as the men. One of the sex, — a mother 
with two babes — writing on this and kin- 
dred points, says: "A few of the ladies 
showed no signs of fear, and kept up to 
the last. It was wonderful to see their 
composure. In fact, it was wonderful that 
we were not all frantic. We were all weak 
and reduced, from having nothing to eat, 
of any consequence, for two days before 
the ship went down. There was no fire to 
cook anything, and there was no chance to 
get any hearty, sustaining food. We 
hardly had water to drink. Some of the 
men, at work, became so exhausted, that 
they dropped down in their places, as if 
they were dead. In transferring the ladies 
from tlie steamer to the brig, it was my 
lot to go with the third boat. The sea 
was very violent, and the prospect of out- 
riding it in sucli a Httlo frail craft was 
terrible. Before going off, I put on a life- 
preserver, which was the only preparation 
I could make for my escape, but ncitlier 
the life-boat nor the life-preserver seemed 
like safety ; for it is impossible to describe 
the roughness of the waves, and the brig 
was a great way off. The rope-noose was 
tied around me, and was swung out over 
the water into the boat. The life-boat 
could not come close to the side of the 
steamer, and we all had to take our chance 
to jump at it. Some of tlii' hulii's fell two 
or three times into the sea before they 
could be got into the boat. One of them, 
the stewardess, fell in three times, and 
once was pinched between the boat and 
the side of the steamer. A hea\'y wave 
dashed the boat against the ship, and 
struck the poor woman a severe blow. 



After I got safely into the little boat, and 
my two babes with nic, I had but little 
hope of getting to the brig. The peril 
then seemed to be greater than ever ; but, 
as the sliip was in a sinking condition, the 
only hope seemed to be in attempting even 
this dangerous escape from her. The 
water dashed into the boat, and we had to 
keep dipping it out all tlie time. Two 
high waves passed entirely over us, so 
that it seemed .as if we were swamped 
and sunk ; but the boat recovered from 
them both." After a two hours' row 
from the steamer to the brig, this brave 
woman, with her two little babes, caught 
hold with one hand, and hung for some 
minutes over the vessel's side, till the 
men on deck caught hold of her and pulled 
her in. 

According to the statements made by 
many of the survivors, there was seldom 
so large an amount of money owned by 
passengers as \vas the case with those who 
came by the Central America, and tlie 
quantity of treasure on board was, conse- 
quently, far greater than the one and a 
half to two millions named on the freight 
list. Many, indeed, were persons of large 
means, and there were but few whose 
immediate wealth did not amount to hun- 
dreds, while numbers reckoned their gold 
by the thousands of doli.irs. The greater 
portion of the passengers were returned 
miners, some on their w.ay to invest the 
capital they had realized, in hopes to live 
a life of greater ease as the result of tlieir 
industry, and others to get their families 
and once more go to the land of gold. 
But, as the storm <'ontiinied to rage, less 
and less was thought of gold, and when, on 
Saturday, it became evident that they 
were likely .at any moment to be buried 
beneath the waves, wealthy men divested 
themselves of their treasure belts and scat- 
tered the gold upon the cabin floors, tell- 
ing those to take it who would, lest its 
weight about their persons — a few extra 
ounces or pounds — should carry them to 
their death. Full purses, containing in 
some instances thousands of dollars, lay 
around untouched. Carpet ■ bags were 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



643 



opened; aud the shining metal was poured 
out on the floor with tlie prodigality of 
death's despair. One of the passengers 
opened a bag and dashed about the cabin 
twenty thousand dollars in gold dust, and 
told him who wanted to gratify his greed 
for gold to take it. But it was passed by 
untouched, as the veriest dross. 

The praises of all who survived were 
unmeasured in laudation of Captain Hern- 



don's gallant and heroic conduct, and their 
sorrow, as well as that of the country at 
large, over his death, was most profound. 
His best eulogy was that pronounced by 
her who knew him best. His wife, on 
being told of the loss of the steamer, and 
that possibly the commander was saved, 
instantly replied : "No; if any one is lost 
he is lost, for he would save every one 
before he could think of himself ! " 



LXXV. 

TEERIBLE CRISIS IN THE BUSINESS AND FINANCIAL 

WORLD.— 1857. 



Known as " the Great Panic." — A Sudden, Universal Crash in the Height of Prosperity .-r-Caused by 
Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Banks all Over the Country. — Failure of the 
Oldest and Wealthiest Houses — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Prostration of Every Branch of 
Industry. — Prolonged Embarrassment, Distrust, and Suffering — The Panic of 1837 a Comparison — 
Extravagance and High Prices. — Chimerical Kailroad Schemes. — Mania for Land Investments — 
Reckless Stock Gambling. — Western Pajier Cities — Fabulous Prices for " Lots." — Money .Absorbed 
in this Way. — Bursting of the Bubble. — The First Great Blow. — .^ Bomb in Money Circles — Wide- 
spread Shock and Terror. — Fierce Crowds at the Banks. — A Run U|Km Them for Specie. — They 
"Goto the Wall." — Savings Bank E.xcitement. — Bare Doings at the Counters. — Wit, Mirth, Despair, 
and Ruin. — Forty Thousand Persons in Wall Street. — Factories, Foundries, etc.. Stopped. — Business 
Credit Destroyed.— Root of the Whole Difficulty. 



" The mo«t eztnwrdinaiy, TiolcDt, and dcstructWe paoie ever experienced in thU country."— GlBBO.ts's liisTOKT or Bakks AMD 




.VXY persons will I'ven at this 

remote lapse of time, tlie terrible com- 
RrN ON A BA>-K. mercial and business revulsion which 

preceded, by just a score of years, tliat more general and calamitous one of 1857, — the 
latter being universally known to this day as "the Great Panic." During the first- 
named, every bank in the Union failed and suspended specie payment, with a compar- 
atively few exceptions. Extravagance pervaded all classes of societj', and so general 
and feverish was the excitement in western lands' speculation, that men grasped at 
'lots' in that boundless and then almost untracked region, as if the suiii)ly was about 
to be exhausted. Indeed, the picture is but slightly if at all overdrawn, which repre- 
sents the land mania of that period as swallowing up, in its mad whirl, all classes. 
The " man of one idea " was visible ever^-where ; no man had two. He who had no 
money begged, borrowed, or stole it ; he who had, thought he made a generous sacri- 
fice, if he lent it cent per cent. The tradesman forsook his shop ; the farmer his 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



645 



plough ; the merchant his counter ; the 
lawyer his office ; the clergyman his study 

to join the general chase. The man 

with one leg, or he that had none, could 
at least get on board a steamer, and make 
for Chicago or Milwaukee ; the strong, the 
able, but above all, the " enterprising," 
set out with his pocket map and his pocket 
compass, to thread the dim woods, and see 
with his own eyes, — for who could be so 
demented as to waste time in planting, in 
building, in hammering iron, in making 
shoes, when the path of wealth laj' wide 
and flowery before him ! A ditcher, hired 
by the job to do a certain piece of work in 
his line, was asked — • 

" Well, John, did you make anything ? " 

" Pretty well ; I cleared about ten dol- 
lars a day, but I could have made more by 
standin' round " — that is, watching the 
land market, for bargains. 

The host of travelers on their western 
speculating tours met with many difficul- 
ties, as might be supposed. Such search- 
ing among trees for town lines ! — such 
ransacking of the woods for section cor- 
ners, ranges, and base lines ! — such anxious 
care in identifying spots possessing " par- 
ticular advantages ! " And then, alas ! 
after all, such precious blunders, — blun- 
ders which called into action another class 
of operators, who became popularly known 
as "land lookers." These were plentiful 
at every turn, ready to furnish " water- 
power," "pine lots," or anything else, at 
a moment's notice. It was impossible to 
mention any part of the country which 
they had not "jaersonally surveyed." 
They would state, with the gravity of 
astrologers, what sort of timber predomi- 
nated on any given tract, drawing sage 
deductions as to the capabilities of the 
soil ! Did the purchaser incline to city 
property ? Lo ! a splendid chart, setting 
forth the advantages of some unequaled 
site. 

But at last this bubble burst — thousands 
of fortunes vanished into thin air — the 
crisis and the panic came like a whirl- 
wind. 

Similar was the state of things preced- 



ing the awful crash in 1857. The times 
were characterized by excessive debts and 
almost incredible extravagance and specu- 
lations. The cities, and many parts of the 
country, were drained of means for legiti- 
mate purposes, being devoted, instead, to 
the construction of unproductive railroads, 
or absorbed in western land speculations. 
The new territories, and some parts of the 
western states, were almost covered with 
paper cities, selling to the credulous at 
almost fabulous jjrices. In Kansas alone, 
where scarcely one legal title had as yet 
been granted, there were more acres laid 
out for cities, than were covered by all the 
cities in the northern and middle states. 
Nearly the whole west swarmed with spec- 
ulators, who neither intended to cultivate 
the soil nor settle there, but who expected 
to realize fortunes, without labor, out of 
the bona fide settler. Lots in " cities," 
where was scarcely a house, were sold to 
the inexperienced and the unwary, at 
prices equaling those in the large cities. 
These operations, with others of a similarly 
chimerical character, made money scarce 
everywhere, and diverted thousands of 
men, and much of the capital of the coun- 
try, from tlie business of producing, — 
tending, of course, to extravagant prices 
of food. 

But the omens of disaster began to cast 
their spectral shadows athwart the finan- 
cial sky, the first manifestation being a 
regular decline in the value of leading 
railroad stocks, especially the western 
roads. But the first great blow to public 
confidence was given by the unexpected 
failure, in August, of the Ohio Life Insur- 
ance and Trust Company. The magni- 
tude and importance of the operations of 
this institution throughout the country, 
amounting to millions of dollars, and in- 
volving so many individuals and corpora- 
tions, rendered its suspension a fearful 
disaster. The announcement fell like a 
bomb in the money circles, and, by the 
first or second week of September, banks 
and business houses began to stop pay- 
ment, and a panic ensued, which became 
almost universal during the month. The 



646 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



best inerciiiitile pajier was at a discount of 
from three to five per cent, a month. 
Toward the close of the month three of 
the leading banks of Philadelphia failed, 
and the remainder resolved upon a tempo- 
rary suspension of specie payments. This 
was followed by a similar stei) on the part 
of most of the banks of Pennsylvania, [ 
Maryland, the District of Columbia, and 
New Jersej'. 

No such intense excitement had ever 
before prevailed in I'hilailelpliia, as that 
which reigned when the bank of Pennsyl- | 



being nearly two million dollars. Very 
early on the same day, the Girard and 
Commercial banks ceased paying their de- 
posits, but continued to pay their bills. 
Checks were marked good and returned to 
the holders. After three o'clock, the city 
was full of all sorts of rumors, and, at a 
meeting of the bank presidents, a universal 
suspension was agreed upon. These tid- 
ings became rapidly known throughout the 
towns and villages of the state, and the 
next morning a vast number of anxious 
people flocked into the city by sti-.nn-linat 




EXCITEMENT IX BUSINESS CIRCLES I>UU1N<< 



vania closed its doors. Crowds of people 
poured into Third street from the distant 
extremities of the city, and the street 
became a jierfect jam, everybody who had 
any money in those banks which had not 
yet stopped specie payment, being in hasto 
to obtain their dues. From this vast mass 
of people tliere radiated lines reaching to 
the counters of all tlio banks, demanding 
coin for bills and deposits ; and all the 
various applicants, as they presented them- 
selves, received their money, and retired 
in good order. This scene continued until 
the hour of closing, the amount of coin 
thus paid out, from eleven to three o'clock, 



and railroad. As if unwilling to believe 
the unwelcome news, they gathered in 
crowds opposite the various banks, pa- 
tiently awaiting the hour for opening. 
All aj)j)eared bent on getting coin for their 
checks and bills. At ten o'clock the doors 
opened, police officers being everywhere 
about, to preserve order. Each customer 
went up in turn, jiresented his check, and 
had it marked good; while such as held 
bills were told that the redemption of them 
in specie was temporarily suspended. 

And now, all over the land, oast, west, 
north, and south, the dark days of fear, 
alarm, and ruin, settled down upon the 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



647 



people, and panic raged like a pestilence. 
Indeed, the extent uf the cra.sh far ex- 
ceeded what it would have been, but for 
the shock and teiior which so needlessly 
possessed men's minds at the instant, and 
unbalanced their judgment. Universal 
distrust prevailed — a loss of that mutual 
confidence between man and man, without 
which, the foundations of mercantile credit 
are washed away as so much sand, but 
witli which, temporary difficulties, even 
though stringent, may be surmounted, and 
total ruin to individuals and the public 
prevented. No more fitting illustration of 
the working of this principle of confidence 
could be cited, in sustaining or overturn- 
ing the steadiness of business affairs, than 
the anecdote of the little Frenchman who 
loaned a merchant five thousand dollars, 
when times were good, but who called at 
the counting-house on the times becoming 
"hard," in a state of agitation only faintly 
portrayed in the following hasty colloquy 
which ensued : 

"How do you do?" inquired the mer- 
chant, as the French creditor presented 
himself at the counter. 

" Sick — ver sick," — replied monsieur. 

"What is the matter?" 

" De times is de matter." 

" De times ? — what disease is that ? " 

" De malaide vat break all de marchants, 
ver much." 

" Ah — the times, eh ? Well, they are 
bad, very bad, sure enough ; but how do 
they affect you ? " 

"Vy, monsieur, I lose de confidence." 

" In whom ? " 

"In everybody." 

" Not in me, I hope ? " 

" Pardonnez moi, monsieur ; but I do 
not know who to trust a present, when all 
de marchants break several times, all to 
pieces." 

"Then I presume you want your 
money." 

"Oui, monsieur, I starve for want of 
I'arrjent" (the silver). 

" Can't you do without it ? " 

''No, monsieur, I must have him." 

"You must?" 



"Oui, monsieur," said little dimity 
breeches, turning pale with apprehension 
for the safety of his money. 

"And you can"t do without it ? " 

"No, monsieur, not von other leetle 
moment longare." 

The merchant reached his bank book, 
drew a check on the good old ' Continen- 
tal ' for the amount, and handed it to his 
visitor. 

" Vat is dis, monsieur ? " 

" A check for five thousand dollars, with 
the interest." 

" Is it hon ? " (good,) said the French- 
man, with amazement. 

" Certainly." 

" Have jou I' argent in de bank ? " 

" Yes." 

"And is it parfaitement convenient to 
pay d 



e same .' 



9" 



" Undoubtedljf ! What astonishes you ? " 

" Vy, dat you have got him in dees 
times." 

"Oh, yes, and I have plentj* more. I 
owe nothing that I cannot pay at a mo- 
ment's notice." 

The Frenchman was perplexed, 

" Monsieur, you shall do me von leetle 
favor, eh ? " 

"With all my heart." 

"Well, monsieur, j'ou shall keep P ar- 
gent for me some leetle year longare." 

" Why, I thought you wanted it ! " 

"Tout ail contra ire. I no vant de 
argent. I vant de grand confidence. 
Suppose j'ou no got de money, den I vant 
him ver much — suppose jou got him, den 
I no vant him at all. Voics coinprenex, 
eh?" 

After some further conference, the little 
chatterer prevailed upon the merchant to 
retain the money, and left the counting- 
house with a light heart, and a counte- 
nance very different from the one he wore 
when he entered. His confidence was 
restored — he did not stand in need of the 
money. 

The banks of New York and New 
England remained firm, far into the month 
of October, but so rapid and numberless 
were the failures, each succeeding day, of 



648 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



railroad and other corporations, and busi- 
ness houses which liad — some of them — 
breasted all tlie financial storms of the last 
Inilf century, that these were finally obliged 
to succumb to the avalancJie of pressure, 
and fell into the vortex of NUjiiversal sus- 
pension. Tuesday, the thirteenth of Octo- 
ber, the day preceding the suspension, was 
the climax of the struggle, and Wall 
street. New York, as the great center of 
money operations in the United States, 
presented a scene of wild excitement never 
before witnessed. 

The account of that scene, as given by 
the reporter fur the Tribune, is here in 
part reproduced. At ten o'clock in the 



was liurriedly dashed off at its foot, and in 
another moment it was on its way to the 
bank. 

The crowd increased in numbers. Each 
person took his place in the line and 
awaited his turn, while policemen kept 
those out who were present only from 
motives of curiosity. One after another 
was paid, and with the shining treasure 
departed. Scores of hands, skilled by long 
experience in counting coin, were taxed to 
their utmost in their efforts to keep ]>ace 
with tlic demand for gold. Altogether, 
the scene jiresented was one of the wildest 
excitement. Tliirty to forty thousand 
persons were at the same moment in the 




i:KFECr8 OF THE 

niniiiing, says that journal, the fronts of 
the different institutions indicated, bj' the 
crowds gathered around them, that the 
aliility of the vaults to j-ield up their treas- 
ure at the call of depositors and bill-hold- 
ers was to undergo no ordinary test. 
Check after check was presented and paid, 
and still they came. Word soon went 
forth that a run had commenced on the 
banks, and it passed from one house to 
another until the whole lower part of the 
city was alive with excitement. Bank 
books were examined; but a moment was 
required to prepare a check — a signature 



U.VUD il.\li:6. 



street — some rushing onward in the hope 
to secure their deposits before the hour of 
closing should arrive, and others clustered 
together, discussing the condition of af- 
fairs. One after another of the announce- 
ments made, of banks failing under the 
continued drain upon theui, fell with dis- 
m.ay among the crowd, and confident pre- 
dictions were uttered that ten o'clock of 
Wednesday would tell the story of the 
suspension of all. But not a few there 
were, whose belief in the abilitj' of the 
moneyed institutions was still unshaken, 
and they asserted, with earnestness, that 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



649 



every demand in checks and bills would 
be met to the last, and Panic be laughed 
to scorn. 

But, with all the anxiety and resolute- 
ness depicted upon so many countenances, 
there were those who laughed and cracked 
jokes about their deposits in banks which 
had suspended, and about their stock in 
smashed-up railroads, as though the whole 
thing were a huge joke. From the top of 
Wall street to the bottom — from Broad- 
way to Water street — the sidewalks were 
crowded with people, desirous to know the 
truth of the rumors which filled the air. 

In other parts of the city, stirring 
scenes were transpiring, and not a few 
that were quite illustrative of human 
nature in its different veins. During the 
run upon the Bowery Savings Bank, an 
old Irishwoman, short, thick, resolute, and 
' a little in for it,' made herself conspicu- 
ous by elbowing her way through the dis- 
trustful depositors, verj' unceremoniously, 
and denouncing, in no measured terms, 
" the big blackguards that would be afther 
chating a poor body out iv her hard earned 
wagis." Some order of precedence is cus- 
tomary at such times, but the heavy shoes 
of the Irishwoman did such execution 
upon the corns of all who stood in her way, 
that she soon obtained a good place near 
the door, in sjiite of the remonstrances of 
a dozen or two of younger Biddys, Mag- 
gies, Marys, and Kathleens, who had been 
waiting an hour or two. At the door, she 
had a wordy quarrel with a broad-should- 
ered black man in advance of her, calling 
him a " runaway nagur ; " and anon she 
varied her performances by shaking her 
fist in the face of a policeman — who, as an 
official conservator of the peace, had under- 
* taken to check her, — and, at length, very 
red and sweaty, she stood before the pay- 
ing teller and presented her book, with a 
vocal invocation to him to do the clean 
thing. "What's this mean ? " said he, look- 
ing at her somewhat impatiently. " What's 
your name ? " " Can't yoos rade writin' 
hand ? " she rejoined sharply ; " shure, 
me nam's on the book ! " " But this," said 
he, " is only a grocer's old pass book ! 



What's j'our name, I say ? " " Mary 
McRagan I was christened, but I married 
Pat Millikens." The teller turned rapidly 
to his index of depositors. " You have 
got no money in this bank ! " said he, when 
he had ascertained the fact. She left the 
premises in company with an officer, to 
■whom she confessed that she had found 
the pass book near the crowd, and think- 
ing it had been dropped accidentallj' by a 
depositor, she had thought to obtain the 
money before the depositor applied for it. 
At the same bank, one man who drew out 
his deposits was so intoxicated that he 
could hardly stand ; quite likely, he lost 
the savings of years before the night was 
over. At another savings bank, one poor 
girl had her pocket picked of her little all 
— about seventy-seven dollars, before she 
had got out of the crowd. A vast deal 
of chaffing occurred among those who 
thronged the doorways of the banks. " I 
don't know," said one to a bystander, 
" where to i)ut my money when I get it ! " 
" Give it to me," rejoined the other. 
" Sew it up in your shirt," said another ; 
and several other methods were proniptl}' 
and merrily suggested by the sympathiz- 
ing spectators, such as " Stick it in your 
wig " — " Let the old woman have it " — 
" Put it in your boots, and let me wear 
them ; " etc. 

At the Sixpenny Savings Bank, a little 
newsboy, without a jacket, and only one 
suspender (and that a string), confronted 
the teller on Monday, and demanded to 
know whether " She was all right " — 
meaning the Institution — because if she 
was, he didn't mean to be scared, if every- 
body' else was. He'd got forty-two cents 
salted down there, and all he wanted was 
his (the teller's) word of honor that it 
wouldn't spile. The teller assured him 
that his money was ready for him at any 
moment. '"Nuff said, 'tween gen'l'men, 
but I don't want it," rejoined the youth, 
and with a self-complacent, well-satisfied 
air, walked out of the bank. "Is she 
good ? " cried two or three other news- 
boys who were awaiting the result, at the 
doorsteps. " Yes, s-i-r-r-e-e ! " he replied, 



650 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



"as good as wheat. Ketcli our bank to 
stop ! Yoos ought to si'fd the gold I seed 
in der safe ! " '• How iniiih was they '/ " 
inquired a companion. " More'n a house- 
full ! " was the prompt response, "an' yoos 
don't ketch dis 'ere chile a-makin' an oold 
woman of his-self, an' drawin' out his 
money ; I ain't so green — I ain't ! " 

It will require iiut little strain of the 
imagination to realize, to one's miud, tlie 
case of Mrs. Jones, who, on receipt of the 
news of tho banks suspending specie pay- 
ments, hasteno<l to her savings bank, 
elbowed her way smartly to the desk, pre- 
sented her book, and demanded her money. 

" Madam," said the clerk, per.suasively, 
"are you sure j'ou want to draw this 
money out in specie ? " 

" Mrs. Jones," said a director, with an 
oracular frown, "do you know that you 
are injuring your fellow depositors ? " 

"And setting an example of great folly 
to less educated persons in this commu- 
nity ? " struck in another director. 

" Let us advise you simply to reflect," 
interposed the clerk, blandly. 

"To wait for a day, at least," said the 
director. 

At last there was a pause. 

Mrs. Jones had been collecting herself. 
She burst now. In a tone which was 
heard throughout the building, and above 
all the din of ordinary business, and at 
wliicli her questioners turned ashy pale, 
she said : 

" Will you, pay me my money ? — yes or 
no!" 

They paid her instantly. 

Not only in the great centers of business 
and finance, like New York, Philadelphia, 
Boston, Baltimore, Cincinnati, St. Louis, 
and New Orleans, but in every town and 
village, the scarcity of money and the 
failure of banks and commercial houses, 
operated to paralyze industry and bring 
want to thousands of families. In conse- 
quence of the universal stoppage of facto- 
ries, the poorer classes in some of the man- 
ufacturing communities saw winter ap- 
proaching, with no prospect of earning a 
livelihood. Wliole families began to suffer 



for Ijread — the fathers willing and eager to 
work, but absolutely nothing to do. Tales 
of distress were to be heard at almost 
every step, for the factories, forges, and 
foundries, had all ceased their cheerful 
hum of activity, and every day's intelli- 
gence from different parts of the land was 
that of fresh accumulations of disaster, 
increasing the severity of the situation, 
and adding to the general gloom. The 
oldest, heaviest, richest, and firmest mon- 
eyed institutions, corporation.s, companies 
and firms, which were considered equal to 
any pressure that might be brought to 
bear against them, were daily chronicled 
as having " gone to the wall." Fortunes 
were swept away, like ashes in a whirl- 
wind. Not even in 1837, when the bank- 
ing system of the countrj- was in so preca- 
rious a condition, was there such a terrible 
downfall of old and wealthy houses. At 
the west, there was one short, tremendous 
collapse, that seemed to lu'ing ruin, at one 
quick blow, upon ever3'thing and every- 
body ; and at the south, the devastation 
was no less wide-spread and fatal. 

Various means were resorted to, to real- 
ize cash for stocks of goods on hand, even 
at a ruinous discount. At numberless shop 
windows were to be seen in staring letters, 
such announcements as: 'These goods 
sold at wholesale prices.' 'Selling off at 
half cost.' ' Bargains to bo had for two 
days — now or never ! ' ' We must realize 
ten thousand dollars to-tlay, at an}' sacri- 
fice ; ' etc. Indeed, in all the large cities, 
the dry goods dealers, being severely 
pressed for rfione}', offered their goods in 
this way, and etTected large sales. A large 
number of the most prominent wholesale 
dealers threw open their vast warehouses 
to retail customers, and by this means, 
probably, not a few houses, of that clas.s, 
managed to escape the hard fate that befell 
others. 

Thus, in a word, there was exhibited 
the melancholy spectacle of a great nation's 
commercial, financial, manufacturing, and 
industrial interests in utter ruin, from one 
end of the broad land to the other ; pros- 
perity succeeded by abject adversity ; con- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



651 



fidence supplanted by total distrust ; a 
paralysis of all trade ; the stoppage of 
almost every bank in every part of the 
United States, the cessation of factories, 
the discharge of thousands of laborers, the 
inability to bring our large crops of prod- 
uce to market, the ruinous rate of two or 
three per cent, a month on the strongest 
paper, and a ruinous depreciation in the 
price of all stocks. The steamers on the 
great rivers and lakes stood still ; the 
canal boats ceased to ply ; the railroad 
trains conveyed less than half the usual 
amount of travelers and merchandise ; the 
navigating interest shared the common 
distress, so that the cargoes, brought from 
abroad, either passed into the public stores, 
or were re-exported at great loss ; the 
freighting business was nearly annihilated. 
Alarmed, too, at the prospect before them, 
ship-loads of emigrants were taken home 
to their native land, in the packets run- 
ning from Boston and New York to Eu- 
rope. Nor did the fortune-tellers fail to 
drive a brisk business in infoi-ming igno- 
rant and credulous inquirers what was to 
"turn up." 

That this great national calamity had 
its root in the fever for land and radroad 
speculation, involving enormous debt, with 
no corresponding sound basis or adequate 
means, cannot be doubted. Mr. Gibbons, 
one of the very ablest of American finan- 
cial writers, argues, in respect to this 
point, that, notwithstanding the appear- 
ances of prosperity previous to the panic, 
there existed all the conditions of extraor- 
dinary financial disturbance. A prodig- 
ious weight of insolvency had been carried 
along for years in the volume of trade. 
Extravagance of living had already sapped 
the foundations of commercial success, in ' 
hundreds of instances where credit sup- 
plied the place of lost capital. Misman- 
agement and fraud had gained footing in 
public companies to an incredible degree ; 
hundreds of millions of bonds were issued 
with little regard to the validity of their 
basis, and pressed upon the market by dis- 
honest agents, at any price, from sixty 
down to thirtv cents on the dollar. False 



quotations were obtained by sham auction 
sales. The newspaper press, in particular 
instances, was bribed into silence, or 
became a partner in the profits to be 
derived from the various schemes which it 
commended to general confidence. The 
land grants by congress to railway compa- 
nies gave added impetus to speculation, 
and state legislatures were bribed to locate 
roads to serve individual interests. Public, 
as well as private credit, was compromised. 
It could not be otherwise than that 
bankruptcy and an overwhelming crash 
should succeed such an inflated and preca- 
rious state of things. Even when trade 
and business are conducted in accordance 
with fair and legitimate rules, the records 
of insolvency among American merchants 
tell a woful tale. Thus, General Dearborn, 
who for twenty j'ears was collector of the 
port of Boston, and who had ample oppor- 
tunities for observing the vicissitudes of 
trade, ascertained, on investigation, that 
among everj' hundred of the merchants 
and traders of that city — whose character 
for carefulness and stability will compare 
favorably with that of merchants in anj' 
other portion of the land — not more than 
three ever acquired an independence. 
This conclusion was not arrived at without 
great distrust ; but an experienced mer- 
chant, who was consulted, fully confirmed 
its truth. A Boston antiquarian in the 
year 1800 took a memorandum of every 
person doing business on Long Wharf, 
and in 1840 only five in one hundred 
remained ; all but these had either failed 
or died insolvent. The Union Bank com- 
menced business in 1798, there being then 
only one other bank. The Union was 
overrun with business, the clerks being 
obliged to work till midnight, and even on 
Sundays. An examination, some fifty or 
sixty years from the starting of the bank, 
showed that of one thousand accounts 
opened at the commencement, only six 
remained ; all the others had either failed, 
or died insolvent, — houses whose paper 
had passed without question, the very par- 
ties who had constituted the solid men of 
the citj-, all had gone down in that period. 



652 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Of the direful havoc, therefore, created by 
a sudden and violent panic, sweeping over 
the whole countr\' like a hurricane, some 
idea may be formed from the statistics 
here given. 

Notwithstanding the resumption of 
business on a specie basis, in about two 
months from the time of their suspension, 



by most of those banks which were in a 
solvent condition, it was a long while 
before trade and industry recovered from 
their crippled state ; and the embarrass- 
ment and suffering which consequently 
weighed, during so protracted a period, 
upon all classes of the community, were 
painful to the last degree. 



LXXVI. 

THE "GREAT AWAKENING" IN THE RELIGIOUS WORLD ; 

AND THE POPULAR REVIVAL MOVEMENT (IN 1875-6) 

UNDER MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEY.— 1857. 



Like a Mighty Rushing Wind, it Sweeps from tlie Atlantic to the Pacific. — Crowded Prayer-Meetings 
Held Daily in Every City and Town, from the Granite Hills of the North to the Rolling Prairies of 
the West and the Golden Slopes of California. — Large Accessions, from all Classes, to the Churches 
of Every Name and Denomination. — The " American Pentecost." — Early American Revivals. — Dr. 
Franklin and Mr. Whitefield. — The Revival of 1857 Spontaneous. — No Leaders or Organizers. — Its 
Immediate Cause. — Universal Ruin of Commerce. — Anxiety for Higher Interests. — All Days of the 
Week Alike. — Business Men in the Work. — Telegraphing Religious Tidings. — New York a Center 
of Influence. — Fulton Street Prayer-Meeting. — Scenes in Burton's Theater. — New Themes and Actors. 
— Countless Requests for Prayers. — A Wonderful Book. — Striking Moral Results. — Men of Violence 
Reformed. — Crime and Suicide Prevented. — Infidels, Gamblers, Pugilists. — Jessie Fremont's Gold 
Ring. — " Awful " Gardner's Case. 



" What nothing earthly giTea, or can destroy, 
The Boul's calm Bunabine end the heartfelt joy." 




^^^ EVIVALS of religious feeling 
r^^ and interest, attended with 
^ great numerical accessions to 
the church, have been not 
unfrequent among the various 
denominations of Christians in Amer- 
ica, from the very earliest period of the 
country's settlement; and, during the 
eighteenth century, under the labors of 
such men as Whitefield, Edwards, the 
Tennents, and others, such results fol- 
lowed as had never before characterized 
any age or people. The labors of 
Whitefield, in especial, stirred the public mind to its depths, and reached all hearts. 
Even Dr. Franklin, rationalist though he was, was won upon, head, heart, and pocket, 
by the power of this mightiest of pulpit orators. Happening to attend one of his meet- 
ings in Philadelphia, and perceiving, in the course of the sermon, that Whitefield 
intended to finish with a collection, Franklin silently resolved that the preacher should 
get nothing from him, though he had in his pocket a handful of copper money, three or 
four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As Whitefield proceeded, Franklin began 
to soften, and determined to give the copper. Another stroke of the preacher's oratory, 
made Franklin ashamed of that, and determined him to give the silver instead ; but 



BOOK OF REQUESTS FOB PRAYERS. 



654 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177&-1876. 



the preacher finished so admirably, that 
the pliilosopher emptied his pocket wholly 
into tlie collector's dish, gold and all. On 
the same occasion, another gentleman, sus- 
pecting a collection might be intended, 
had, by precaution, emptied his pockets 
before leaving home. Towards the conclu- 
sion of the discourse, however, he felt a 
strong inclination to give, and applied to 
a neighbor, who stood near him, to lend 
him some money for the purpose. The 
request was made to, perhaps, the only 
man in the assembly who h.ad the firmness 
not to be affected by the j)reacher. His 
answer was, " At any other time, friend 
Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee freely; 
but not now, for thee seems to be out of 
thy right senses." The multitudes, of all 
denominations, that went to hear this won- 
derful man, were enormous — indeed, one 
great secret of his success was, his freedom 
from sectarian prejudice and animosity. 
As an illustration of this quality, it is 
related that in the midst of one of his 
most overpowering discourses, he stofjped 
short for an instant, and then uttered the 
following impressive apostrophe : " Father 
Abraham, who have you in heaven ? any 
Episcopalians?" "No." " Any Presby- 
terians ? " "No." "Any Baptists?" 
"No." "Have you any Methodists, Sece- 
ders, or Independents there?" "No, 
no!" "Why who have you there?" 
" We don't know those names here. All 
who are here are Christians, believers in 
Christ — men who have overcome by the 
blood of the Lamb, and the word of his 
testimony." "Oh, is that the case ? then 
God help me, God help us all, to forget 
party names, and to become Christians, in 
deed and in truth." The labors of such a 
champion could not be otherwise than 
fruitful of good. 

Without dwelling upon the scenes and 
results relating to the early religious 
efforts alluded to above, it may be said of 
the revival in 1857-8 — known as "the 
Great Aivahenimj" and which is the 
subject of this chapter, — that it depended 
not upon any leader or preacher, however 
eloquent, but was the spontaneous out- 



growth of the heart's necessities, felt in 
common by the great mass of the public, 
in view of the financial tornado which, 
sweeping with such universal destructivc- 
ness over the land, had given impressive 
weight to the truth, that " the things 
which are seen are temporal, but the 
things which are not seen are eternal." 
No words could convey a better idea of the 
general feeling which thus possessed men's 
minds at this period of mercantile ruin on 
the one hand, and of religious anxiety on 
the other, than those uttered by a promi- 
nent merchant of New York, at one of the 
business men's daily prayer-meetings in 
that city. "Prayer," said he, "was never 
so great a blessing to me as it is now. I 
should certainly either break down or turn 
rascal, except for it ! Wlien one sees his 
propertj' taken from liim every day, by 
those who might pay him if they were 
willing to make sacrifices in order to do it, 
but who will not make the least effort even 
for this end, and bj' some who seem de- 
signedly to take advantage of the times, in 
order to defraud him — and when he him- 
self is liable to the keenest reproaches from 
others if he does not pay money, which he 
cannot collect and cannot create — the 
temptation is tremendous to forget Chris- 
tian charity, and be as hard and unmerci- 
ful as anybody. If I could not get some 
half hours every day to pray myself into a 
right state of mind, I should either be 
overburdened and disheartened, or do such 
things as no Christian man ought." Tes- 
timonies like this were innumerable from 
business men, — they, a.s well as the laity 
in general, being most prominent in carry- 
ing on the work. 

But, though this movement was, in a 
ver^' great degree, sjiontaneous, it was 
earl}' accompanied by a s^-stematic plan of 
family visitation, in the principal cities, 
and by noonday prayer-meetings, in almost 
every city, town, and village, from one end 
of the country to the other. In such 
places as Now York, Boston, Philadelphia, 
Cincinnati, Chicago, Richmond, as well as 
farther south and west, not only were the 
usual houses of wor-^hip crowded daily, but 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



655 



the largest public halls were hired for the 
same purpose, and resounded every day 
with fervent prayers, songs of praise, and 
earnest exhortations. 

Thus, in Philadelphia, the vast audience 
room of Jayne's Hall, and, in New York, 
Burton's well-known theater, were appro- 
priated for religious assemblings. The 
room hitherto occupied in the first-named 
hall, contained accommodations for about 
three hundred persons, and when it was 
decided upon to remove into the large hall, 
it was with no expectation that the room 
would be filled, at such an hour as noon- 
day. To the amazement of all, however, 
it was densely crowded, every seat being 
occupied, including the settees in the aisles, 
and a large portion of the immense galler- 
ies, and those who left for want of room 
upon the main floor, are said to have 
exceeded the number who could not gain 
admission on the day previous, when the 
meeting was held in the small room ad- 
joining. It was estimated that there were 
certainly not less than three thousand per- 
sons who entered the hall during the hour, 
and it was conceded, by those whose 
means of knowledge enabled them to judge, 
that this was the largest meeting convened 
for the simple purpose of prayer to God, 
that had ever been assembled in this 
country. 

From New York city, a vast religious 
influence went forth to all parts of the 
land, and details of the daily proceedings 
in the prayer-meetings held at Burton's 
theater, and in the Fulton street and John 
street church vestries, were published far 
and wide by the secular press. Indeed, 
the fullness and candor characterizing the 
reports contained in the city journals, 
were, with scarcel}' an exception, most 
honorable to those influential mediums of 
public enlightenment. Of the now almost 
world-renowned Fulton street prayer-meet- 
ing, held at first in one room, but to which, 
as the revival progressed, it was found 
necessary to add two more, the Daily Tri- 
bune of March 6, 1858, said : " All three 
are now not only filled to their utmost 
capacity, but would be still more largely 



attended if there were sitting or even 
standing-room to be offered to the multi- 
tude. A placard is posted on the gate, 
inviting persons to enter, though such an 
invitation seems no longer necessary : 
' Step in for five minutes, or longer, as 
your time permits.' Inside notices are 
hung on the walls, to the effect that 
prayers and remarks should be brief, 'in 
order to give all an opportunity,' and for- 
bidding the introduction of ' controverted 
points,' for the purpose of preventing the- 
ological discussion. These precautions are 
taken, in order to give as much variety as 
possible to the exercises, for it is always 
unpardonable to render a crowded meeting 
dull. The frequenters of this meeting 
come from all classes of society, and are 
invited as such, without regard to their 
differences. Many clergymen of the city 
churches, and many prominent laymen, 
including merchants and gentlemen in the 
legal and medical professions, are seen 
there every day — as they ought to be seen 
— side by side with the mechanic and the 
day laborer, and even the street beggar. 
Draymen drive up their carts to the 
church, and, hitching their horses outside, 
go in with the crowd ; and ' fine ladies,' 
who sometimes have Christian hearts in 
spite of unchristian fashions, driven down 
from ' up town ' in their fine carriages, also 
step in and mingle with the same multi- 
tude. The exercises consist about equally 
of prayers, remarks, and singing. Of 
course it is impracticable for so many to 
take part in the speaking or the audible 
praying, but they all join in the singing 
with great zeal and emphasis. On one 
occasion, the volume of sound was so heavy 
as to dislodge from its place on the wall 
the clock which had been securely fastened, 
as was supposed, and bring it crashing to 
the floor. It is not unfrequent, during the 
continuance of the meeting, to see a crowd 
of persons collected in the street in front 
of the church, to listen to the spirit-stirring 
hymns that are sung inside. The prayer- 
meeting held in the old Methodist church 
in John street is similar to this. The 
attendance here is already found sufficient 



656 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



to crowd the entire ground floor of the 
building. Many Methodist brethren at- 
tend tliis meeting in preference to the 
other, liut the proceedings are character- 
ized witli entire catholicit}- and freedom 
from sectarianism." I'erhaps no better 
illustration could be afforded of this unsec- 
tarian feeling, as well as of the prevailing 
si)irit of the times, than the following dis- 
patch, which was sent by telegraph, at 
noon, March 12th, to the great union 
praj'er-meeting in Jayne's Hall, Philadel- 
phia : 

" Christian Brethren — The New York 
John street Union Meeting sends you 
greeting in brotherly love: 'And the in- 
habitants of one city shall go to another, 
saying, Let us go speedily to pray before 
the Lord, and to seek the Lord of Hosts — 
I will go also. Praise the Lord — call 
upon his name — declare his doings among 
the people — make mention that his name 
is exalted.' " 

To the above message, the following 
disjtatch from !Mr. George H. Stuart, a 
prominent Old School Presbyterian and 
chairman of the Philadelphia meeting, was 
immediately telegraphed and read to the 
John street meeting: 

"Jayne's Hall daily Prayer Meeting is 
crowded ; upwards of three thousand pres- 
ent; with one mind and heart they glorify 
our Father in heaven for the mighty work 
he is doing in our city and country, in the 
building up of saints and the conversion of 
sinners. The Lord hath done great things 
for us, whence joy to us is brought. May 
He who holds the seven stars in his right 
hand, and who walks in the midst of the 
churches, l)e with you by His Sjiirit this 
day. Grace, mercy, and peace, be with 
you." 

Even among those denominations unac- 
customed to what are known as ' revival 
measures ' for the furtherance of religion, 
such as the Unitarian, Universalist, and 
Episcopalian, a disposition was manifested 
to co-operate, in prayers and labors, for the 
success of the good work. In Boston, and 
other places, prayer-meetings were con- 
ducted by the Unitarian clergy and laity, 



which were thronged to the utmost capac- 

itj' of the halls used for the purpose. In 
New York, the Orchard Street Universalist 
church. Rev. Dr. Sawyer, exhibited a warm 
sym]iathy with the revival, and took an 
active part in its progress ; prayer-meetings 
were held twice a week, which were fully at- 
tended, a deep religious feeling pervaded 
the congregation, and large numbers 
united with the church. The card of invi- 
tation to their prayer-meeting, which, like 
that of other denominations, was exten- 
sively circulated, read as follows : A gen- 
eral prayer-meeting will be held every 
Wednesday and Friday evening, at half- 
past seven o'clock, in the lecture-room of 
the Rev. Dr. Sawyer's church, Orchard 
street, near Broome. ' Ho, every one that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he 
that hath no money ; come ye, buy and 
eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk with- 
out money and without jirice.' 

Among the Episcopalians, meetings of 
deep interest were held, including regular 
evening services for prayer and short ad- 
dresses, at the Ohurch of the Ascension, 
New York, Rev. Dr. Bedell's. One of 
these meetings was of a ver}^ impressive 
character. The meeting commenced with 
singing the h^ymn, "Stay, thou insulted 
Spirit, stay," a series of prayers followed, 
after which Rev. Mr. Dickson delivered 
a short address, founded on the words, 
" Lord, are there few that be saved ? " 
Other hymns were sung, and then remarks 
made by Rev. Drs. Dyer and Cutler, Epis- 
copal rectors. Doctor Cutler said that, 
twenty years ago, such a meeting as the 
present one wouhl have been denounced as 
Methodistical ; but he felt that lie could 
almost say, with Simeon of old, "Now, 
Lord, let thy servant dej)art in peace," for 
he had witnessed that glorious "levia- 
than," the Episcopal Church, which for 
forty years he had lamented to see, with 
all its noble qualities and precious gifts, 
being fast in the stocks, at last launched 
and making full headway in the river that 
flows from the City of God. 

Next to the Fulton street prayer-meet- 
ing, in point of wide-reaching influence, 



GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



657 




GEODP OF EMINENT REVIVAL PEEACHEBS DURING THE NATIONAL CENTnBT. 

42 



658 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the meetings for prayer lielJ daily, at 
noon, in liurton's tlieater, may be spoken 
of as most conspicuous. It was liired for 
this purpose by the New York Young 
Men's Cliristian Association, and was 
crowded dail}' with earnest-minded men 
anil women, fervent in tlieir songs, prayers, 
and exhortations. The place made so 
famous, in years past, by the histrionic 
j>erformances of Burton, Blake, PJacide, 
Holland, Davenport, Johnston, Lester, 
Jordan, Fisher, Brougham, and other 
celebrities, now resounded with the soul- 
stirring apj>e:ils of such men as Cuyler, 
Beeclier, Hatfield, Aruiitage, and a host of 
warm-hearted merchants and ])rofessional 
men. all enlisted in the good work of ex- 
tolling the glad tidings of salvation. In- 
stead of polkas, schottisches, and waltzes 
— instead of fiddle and bow, orchestra and 
overture, — there were the grave and seri- 
ous Iiymns, "Children of the Heavenly 
King," and "Salvation, the joyful 
sound," "Return, my wandering soul, 
return," etc. With the exception of now 
and then a fervid " Amen," or a hearty 
" Yes, Lord," the order a»d quiet of the 
audience during the speaking were entirely 
uninterrupted. 

At all the multitudinous prayer-meet- 
ings held in different places tliroughout 
the country, one marked feature of the 
proceedings was that of receiving and 
reading requests for prayers. The re- 
quests of this character sent to the Fulton 
street meeting have all been carefully pre- 
served in a book, constituting a vohnno 
upon which no one can look without the 
deepest interest. The scope and variety 
of these requests afford so apt a reflection 
of the state of feeling during the revival 
period, that a few specimens of those pre- 
sented at different times and places, will 
be a fair illustration of all : 

' A Christian niorchant earnestly desires 
the prayers of God's ])eople for his co-part- 
ners in business, and for all the young 
men in their employment unconverted to 
God.' 

'An anxious wife is praying earnestly 
at this hour for lur lui>Kaii(l, who once 



made a profession of religion, but is now 
fearful that he never was born of the 
Spirit, and is in darkness. She asks for 
an interest in your prayers in his behalf.' 

' The prayers of those who are accus- 
tomed to intercede with God, are requested 
by a San Franciscan, that the Almighty 
would visit the city of San Francisco with 
a gracious out])ouring of his Spirit. Re- 
member your brothers and fathers on the 
Pacific coast.' 

'The prayers of this meeting are re- 
quested for a young lady wlio scoffs at 
religion. Don't forget her, brethren. She 
has no one to pray for her but the writer 
of this. Oh, pray for her.' 

'A widow asks for the prayers of the 
brethren and sisters for a son brought up 
under careful religious instruction, who 
last night rm-si'd /lis iiintlier — that he may 
this day be brought to the feet of Jesus.' 

' Prayers are requested for a sister who 
is given to intemperance.' 

' The prayers of Christians are most 
earnestly recjuested by a son in behalf of 
an aged father, nearly seventj* years old. 
A family of ten children are praying 
morning, noon, and night for him.' 

'The prayers of Christians are requested 
for a young man — the son of a clergyman 
— who is an idle jester on the subject of 
religion, and who has, within the last 
hour, been heard to ridicule these meet- 
ings, and to jest uj)on these subjects.' 

'!My husband is not a Christian, though 
often thoughtful. I have prayed for his 
conversion every day since our marriage 
— nine years. May I ask an interest in 
your prayers that my husband may seek 
71011' an interest in Christ, and that we 
m.ay both become devoted, earnest, Bible- 
Christians ? ' 

' The prayers of the Fulton street meet- 
ing are earnestly requested for a bible 
class of twentj'-two young ladii'S, con- 
nected with one of the Dutch Reformed 
churches in this vicinity, some of whom 
ajipear to be anxious for their souls.' 

It was in this spirit that the Great 
Awakening showed its character and its 
pcivvir in all sections of the land, north, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



659 



south, east, and west, the Wind of God 
sweeping benignly from tlie Atlantic to 
the Pacific, — reaching across the length 
and breadth of the continent, — from the 
granite mountains of the north to the roll- 
ing prairies of the west and the golden 
slopes of California. It was, in a word, 
the American Pentecost, — the great relig- 
ious epoch of the national centurj', un- 
equaled in earnestness, union, and univer- 
sality, by any similar movement tliat had 
preceded it, in the history of the western 
world. The spiritual activities of the 
denominations were everywhere constant 
and fruitful, the accessions to the churches 
being numbered by scores of thousands. 
In places the most obscure, remote and 
isolated, the most fervid religious engaged- 
ness was to be found, while, in the larger 
towns and cities, no business man, what- 
ever his location, needed to go forty rods 
to find a prajer-meeting in operation, with 
a printed invitation outside for him to 
enter and listen to the prayers and expe- 
riences of others, and, if he so desired, take 
a part in the exercises himself. There 
were special meetings for prayer, also, in 
behalf of firemen, policemen, waiters at 
hotels, seamen, and boys, maintained 
wholly or in part by the classes specially 
named, and i-esulting in a large amount of 
good. Men of established Christian char- 
acter were strengthened in their good pur- 
poses ; the indifferent and heedless were 
awakened to thoughtfulness on religious 
themes ; and multitudes, everywhere, who 
had led lives of immorality and wicked- 
ness, dangerous to society, were reclaimed, 
and henceforth walked in the path of 
virtue and honor. 

Of the many interesting incidents which 
transpired during this wonderful period, 
only a few can here be cited. 

Just after the commencement of the 
great panic, (says Rev. Mr. Adams, a well- 
known Methodist preacher in New York,) 
a young man called on me late on Satur- 
day night. He was the picture of distress 
and despair. Supposing him to be one of 
the many cases that daily came under my 
notice, I invited him in. He sat some 



minutes in perfect silence, and finally 
burst into tears. It was some time before 
he could control himself sufficiently to go 
on, and then said, " Can you do anything 
for me ? " I requested him to state his 
case. He said he was miserable beyond 
description — had been blessed with pious 
parents and a religious education, but had 
gone far away from the counsels of his 
fathers ; he had fallen into shameful sin, 
until his soul loathed himself, and he had 
been on the verge of self-destruction. 
"This afternoon," said he, "feeling a hell 
within, I went and bought poison, — went 
into my room, and was about to take it, 
when something seemed to saj' to me, 'Go 
down and see the minister,' and I have 
come. Will you pray for me ? " He fell 
on his knees and cried aloud for mercy. 
After two hours of prayer, he grew calm, 
and finally joyful. He gave me a package, 
and requested me to destroy it; there was 
laudanum in it — enough to have killed 
half a dozen men. 

One of the first conversions among the 
sailors, was that of a man who had been 
greatly addicted to gambling, and to other 
vices that usually accompany this. When 
he went to the meeting, he had just left 
the gaming-table ; but when he returned, 
his first act was to consign his cards and 
dice to the flames. He then knelt down, 
prayed, and was converted. He went to 
sea, and on board the ship daily prayer- 
meetings were held both in the cabin and 
forecastle. 

A merchant, after having attended one 
of the crowded prayer-meetings held in 
the city, determined, on returning home, 
to make an effort for the spiritual good of 
some of his friends and neighbors. One 
of these was a man who avowed himself an 
infidel. A lara^-er-meeting w'as organized, 
to which this man with others was invited, 
and, after several days' attendance, rose 
on one occasion, and requested that prayer 
should be made in his behalf. To the 
surprise and almost astonishment of his 
acquaintances, he shortly afterward re- 
nounced infidelity, and embraced the 
Christian religion. 



6C0 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



At many of the telegniph oflSccs, mes- 
sages were constantly being sent to all 
parts of the land, announcing conversions. 
Some oftiie.se were exceedingly tender and 
touching, such as, ' Dear mother, the revi- 
val continues, and I, too, have been con- 
verted.' ' My dear parents, you will re- 
joice to hear that I have found peace with 
God.' 'Tell ni}- sister that I have come 
to the Cross of Christ.' ' At last I have 
faith and peace.' 

The influence of personal effort and a 
good example was forcibly illustrated in 
the following case of a man and wife, who 
were utterly regardless even of the forms 
of religion, the husband, indeed, being an 
infidel. The wife had, however, been 
taken by some one to the meetings in a 
neighboring Methodist church, and, un- 
known to her husband, had become inter- 
ested in them. One day he was scoffing 
in her presence at the revival, expressing 
his disbelief in everything of the kind, 
especiall}' ridiculing the Methodist modes 
of labor, ami winding up with a threat 
that he would soon stop any of Itis family' 
who should bo guilty of the folly of going 
up to the altar. " Why," said his wife, 
throwing her arms round his neck, and 
giving him a kiss, "do you know that / 
was there last night ? " " No," he replied, 
returning her kiss; "but I am glad of it." 
He was softened ; that same evening he 
accompanied her to meeting, and went up 
to the altar himself. 

St. Paul's Episcopal church, on Broad- 
way, New York, was filled with multi- 
tudes, on Wednesday and Friday evenings, 
in attendance on the devotional services 
performed there. On one of these occa- 
sions, soon after the exercises commenced, 
the large and fashionable congregation was 
surprised by the entrance of three Indian 
maidens, wra]>ped in their blue blankets. 
They paused for an instant at the door, 
and then advanced to the front of the altar 
with quiet dignity and self-possession, and 
knelt down to their devotions. As the 
solemn ceremonies drew near to a close, 
they rose, crossed themselves, and, saluting 
the altar, glided down the aisle and from 



the church. They were of the Caughne- 
waga tribe, residing near Montreal, and 
had visited New York for the pur|)Ose of 
selling their trinkets, bead moccasins, and 
baskets. Being mostly Catholics, they 
usually worshiped in the church of that 
order on Canal street ; but it seemed that 
they had observed the brilliantly illumin- 
ated church in passing by, and had entered, 
forgetful of form or sect, to kneel with 
their white sisters before the common 
Father of all. 

In Mr. Beecher's church, Brooklyn, at 
the close of one of the morning meetings, 
a charitable collection was taken up. 
Among the audience was Mrs. Fremont 
("Our Jessie"), who, hapi)eiiiiig to have 
no money in her pocket, as the plate was 
passed, took from her finger a heavy gold 
ring, and threw it in as the only contribu- 
tion which she was able at the moment to 
make. The ring contained on the outside 
an engraved i«c, — in allusion to a beautiful 
incident in Fremont's passage of the 
Rocky Mountains, — and, on the inside, 
the inscription, ' March 4, '57.' 

One of the most remarkable conversions 
among the dangerous and criminal classes, 
was that of Orville Gardner, commonly 
called "Awful" Gardner, a noted prize- 
fighter and trainer of pugilists. He was 
induced to attend one of the Methodist 
meetings, and, to the surprise of multi- 
tudes, he requested the prayers of the con- 
gregation, a request which on three differ- 
ent occasions he repeated. At this time, 
he was residing in the vicinity of New 
York. Having some unimportant busi- 
ness to do in that city, a friend asked him 
if ho would " jump into the cars and go 
down and attend to it." He replied, " I 
have more important business to attend to 
first, and I shall not go to the city till it 
is done." He had then three men under 
his training for a prize-fight. On being 
asked if he would give them further les- 
sons, he rejilied th.at "he would go to 
them soon, but on a different errand from 
boxing and training — he would try to jier- 
suade them to reform, and to embrace 
religion." 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



661 



A young man, hearing himself prayed 
for by some friends, became so angry, that 
he resolved to sell his farm and go west, 
away from such interfering relatives. 
They continued to pray, and he finally 
sold his farm, and was going to start for 
Albany, o"n his way to the west. While 
going to take the cars, he passed the 
prayer-meeting, and, having some time to 
wait for the train, thought he would just 
step in, to pass the time away, and see 
what was going on. He went in, w^as 
deeply impressed, and his case was imme- 
diately added to the great multitude of 
similar instances of reformation, which 
made the Great Awakening of 1857-8 so 
memorable in the religious history of the 
nation. 



world-wide fame, who had some time pre- 
viously been on a tour of active and suc- 
cessful religious labor in different parts of 
Europe. Returning to their native land, 
they devoted themselves, for consecutive 
months, and with great and disinterested 
earnestness, among the masses, and this, 
too, as it appeared, not only without stated 
or assured pecuniary compensation, but 
absolutely without consideration of money 
or hire, bej-ond what was voluntarily con- 
tributed by friends for their current ex- 
penses. 

Never before, perhaps, were the fount- 
ains of the higher life in man opened up 
so abundantly and universally in our land, 
as by the efforts of these simple-spoken 
but intrepid and warm-hearted reformers, 




''^atLf 



'"n'.Dsmf-' 



But, in addition to tlie Great Awaken- 
ing thus distinguishing the periods de- 
scribed, and which wrought such mighty 
results, there was to succeed another, 
which, in some of its aspects, was to prove 
even more noteworthy. Indeed, it may 
be said, without exaggeration, that one of 
the most happy, conciliatorj^, and widely 
useful religious movements characterizing 
the history of our country, and, in fact, 
the history of modern times, — creating an 
enthusiasm as genial and far-reaching as 
it was decorous and practical, — was that 
which commenced in the fall of 1875, 
under the personal auspices of Messrs. 
Moody and Sankey, lay evangelists of 



as they went from town to town and from 
city to city, with the proclamation, by fer- 
vent discourse, and cheering, melting song, 
of the " glad tidings of good." 

Standing aloof from even the shadow of 
sectarian propagandism or theological dis- 
putation, they enlisted the co-operation — 
or, at least, the good will and God-speed — 
of all denominations of Christians, and, so 
conciliatory was their speech, and so ra- 
tional their methods, in appealing to the 
irreligious or indifferent, that, unlike the 
experience which would probably have at- 
tended a different course, little if any time 
was lost in provoking criticism or combat- 
ing objections. And this, in a word, was 



G62 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



tlie cause of the welcome extended tliem, 
wherever they went, and of the ahnost 
invariably rich harvests whiili accom- 
panied their labors. Nothing, in fact, 
could better evince the favorable impres- 
sion made by these evangelists upon soci- 
ety, than the judgments of the value of 
their work, expressed by those not holding 
their opinions. Thus, the Tablet, an in- 
fluential journal of the Roman Catholic 
faith, published in New York, spoke of 
Mr. Moody as affording, in " the midst of 
an age of mocking and unlielieving, a kind 
of earnest testimony to Jesus, and we can 
not find it in our heart to say it is not of 
God ;" and, though guarding its conces- 
sions by the claim for its own Church of 
possessing solely the real truth, it admit- 
ted, nevertheless, that "it is something in 
cities where the divinitj- of Christ and Ilis 
divine teaching are openlj' blaspliemed, 
and where to the great bulk of the ]iopida- 
tion the Christian religion is a matter of 
complete indilTerence, wlien it is not one 
of scorn, that their ears should be accus- 
tomed to words of adoration and love of 
Him, and that even the dreary wastes of 
heresy should eclio with tlie name of 
Jesus. . . . This work of Mr. Moody's is 
not sin. It cannot be sin to invite men 
to love and serve Jesus Christ." 

And in a similar spirit to tliat just cited, 
the Jewish ^Messenger, referring to the 
meetings contemplated to be held bj- these 
evangelists, in the vast hippodrome. New 
York city, expressed it as its opinion that, 
whatever objection might be urged to 
emotional religion as spasmodic, lacking , 
in substantial good, no man of sense could 
declaim against suidi services, if conducted i 
in the same orderly and earnest way that 
had characterized the meetings else- 
where. In the same vein was the utter- 
ance of a distinguished preacher in 
Brooklyn, N. Y., — one representing the 
extreme wing of the 'liberal' school, — 
who declared, in a sermon, that, if 
Moody and Sankey could reach the 
masses of the people, " they would per- 
form a work for whicdi all lovers of man- 
kind would be grateful." That this hope 



was largely realized, in the case of 
liroiiklyn itself, is well known. 

One of the events in Mr. Jloody's career 
wliich i»eculiarly conspired to awaken pop- 
ular enthusiasm in behalf of him and his 
cause, on this side of the Atlantic, was the 
account, which preceded his arrival in 
America by some weeks, of the extraordi- 
nary o<'casion attending the <-lose of the 
evangelists' wonderful lalior.s in London, 
and which, on being read by tlieii- friends 
in this country, seemed like a prophecy of 
great things in store for their native land, 
when their homeward voyage should be 
accomplished. It appeared, according to 
the account of the meeting referred to — 
tlie last of the immense gatherings of this 
kind in that metropolis — that, for some 
days prior to its taking place, the anxietj' 
of the people to obtain admission to the 
hall amounted almost to a frenzy, and not 
altogether a harmless one. Number.* were 
waiting for admission as early as three 
o'clock in the morning, or hours before the 
opening, — all the approaches were crowded 
with surging throngs, some of wliom had 
come from great distances, — and, all 
around, dense masses of men, women, and 
children, were ju-esent, worked up to the 
highest point of interest and expectation. 
Mr. Moody found entrance through a pri- 
vate house adjoining, and with the hel]> of 
a ladder. Meetings were lield outside, but 
nothing less than seeing and hearing Mr. 
Moody would satisfy the densely packed 
multitude. Among the great dignitaries 
present were the (^iieen of tlie Netherlands 
and the Duchess of Sutherland. The last 
words of the evangelist were very impres- 
sive, as indeed, was the whole scene of 
this most memorable occasion, and his sen- 
timents, as then and there littered — raj)id, 
s])ontaneous, gushing, — may be sai<l to 
tifly represent the preachers character and 
power. ■' It is," he said, " the last time I 
shall have the unspeakable privilege of 
preaching the gospel in Kngland. I have 
never enjoyed preaching so much as I have 
in this countr3\" " Have another week," 
shouted a man. " I want to have j'ou all 
saved to-night," said Mr. Moody, looking 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



663 




BEVrTAL MEETING IN BROOKLYN, CONDCCTED BY MESSRS. MOODY AND SAXKEY. 



toward the speaker. " If I were to stay 
another week, I could tell you no more. I 
have not told you a hundredth part of the 
story, but I have done the best I can with 
this stammering tongue. I don't want to 
close this meeting until I see you safe 
behind the walls of the city of refuge. 
During the past thirty days I have been 
preaching here, I have tried to allure 
you away to that world of light. I have 
told you of hell to warn you, and I have 
told you of the love of God. To-night I 
have been trying to illustrate salvation. 
You can receive Christ and be saved, or 
reject him and be lost. By-and-by there 
will be a glorious future, and I want to 
know how many there are willing to join 
me for eternity. How many will stand up 
here before God and man, and say, by that 
act, you will join me for heaven ? Those 
who are willing to do so to-night, will you 
just rise ? " Multitudes rose to their feet. 



Of this remarkable European tour of the 
evangelists, one of them afterwards said, 
"I remember when we left home, not 
knowing what was before us. We landed 
in Liverpool, and found the friends who 
invited us over both dead. We were 
strangers, but God led us ; His Spirit 
directed us up to a dead town, where we 
held a prajer-ineeting, at which, at first, 
there were hit foui- persons 2)resevt. After- 
ward more came. People thought we were 
two Americans with sinister designs. The 
meetings, however, increased in interest 
and power, and then the work began." 

In due time, after returning to this 
country, the evangelists commenced their 
public labors, selecting Brooklyn, N. 1., 
as their first field. No church edifice, 
however, in that city, having the seating 
capacity to accommodate the throng of 
people who desired to listen to Mr. Moody's 
powerful exhortations and Mr. Sankey's 



664 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



singing, the large structure known as the 
rink, on Clermont avenue, was fitted up 
for thi.s purpose. It accommodated five 
thousand persons. The interior of this 
vast building, as viewed from the platform, 
a large semi-<-ircul:ir dais, was in the high- 
est degree inspiring. Mr. Moody's posi- 
tion, when speaking, was at the center of 
this platform, in front; on his left were 
seats for visiting clerg3'men; on his right, 
in front, was Mr. Sankey's position, at a 
small organ, on which he played the ac- 
companiment to his admirable rendering 
of the hymns which formed such a marked 
and helpful feature of these services. It 
was in this rink, that, day after day and 
night after night, for successive weeks, 
dense throngs assembled, and discourse, 
song, and prayer united to bring thousands 
of hearts to religious consecration. Out- 
door meetings, as well as meetings in the 
neighboring churches, were also held dail}', 
with the most beneficial results, the pastors 
joining heartily in the work, — and, in 
fact, all over the land, the stimulus to 
renewed zeal and activity in spiritual 
things, received from this source, was 
most decided. 

Commencing in Brooklyn, October 21th, 
and continuing some weeks, only a brief 
interval elapsed before the revivalists com- 
menced their labors in Philadelphia, 
namel}', on Sunday morning, November 
21st, the meetings being held in the old 
freight depot, at Thirteenth and Market 
streets, which had been fitted up for this 
use. The inclemencj- of the weather did 
not prevent the assembling of at least ten 
thousand persons at the opening services, 
including hundreds of prominent persons. 
Indeed, long before the hour of opening, 
the streets leading to the building were 
alive with people of every age and condi- 
tion, ajid of both sexes ; thousands came 
by the various lines of passenger railway 
running bj' or near the spot, and other 
thousands wended their way thither on 
foot, many of them coming wearj- dis- 
tances. Within the building, the sight of 
Buch a vast sea of humanity — now eager to 
catch the earnest words of the speaker. 



and, again, with heads bowed in solemn 
praj-er — was most impressive ; nor was 
it less so, when, under Mr. Sankey's in- 
spiring leadership, the joyous multitude 
united in singing those sweet and favorite 
songs, ''Hold the Fort,'' "The Ninety and 
Nine," " Jesus of Nazareth Passeth by," 
etc. The interest and enthusiasm in these 
meetings continued without abatement for 
consecutive weeks, not the least interested 
among the attendants, during one of the 
December sessions, being President Grant, 
with members of his cabinet. 

New York city was the next field of 
labor chosen by the evangelists, the hippo- 
drome being chosen by the Young alien's 
Christian Association of that city, for the 
meetings, the opening one taking place 
February 4, 1876. Both halls, the larger 
containing seven thousand persons?, and 
the smaller, containing four thousand 
were filled, and several thousand persons 
more stood outside. Distingui.shcd preach- 
ers occupied the platform ; a choir of 
twelve hundred voices conducted the sing- 
ing; Mr. Mood}' preached with great 
power; and the spectacle altogether was 
truly sublime. Mr. Sankey carried all 
hearts with him while he sang "Hold the 
Fort," the people joining in the chorus. 
There was not only no diminution in 
enthusiasm or attendance while the meet- 
ings were in progress, but rain and storm 
offered no obstacle to the pressing throngs. 
Mr. Moody gained favor constantly by the 
judicious judgment which he showed in 
his management both of the people and 
himself ; and when, on one occasion, he 
said, "I want no false excitement," the 
expressions of approval were unmistaka- 
ble. On Sunday, February 13th, the en- 
tire attendance was estimated to be from 
twcntv to twenty-five thousand ; even as 
early as eight o'clock, a. m., at a special 
meeting for Christians, the admission 
being by ticket, over four thousand per- 
sons were present;- at three o'clock, P. M., 
a meeting specially for women was at- 
tended by more than six thousand of them ; 
and in the evening, when men alone were 
admitted, the audience numbered some ten 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



665 



thousand. At all these services the order 
was perfect, and all hearts seemed in 
accord. Though a Roman Catholic, Dom 
Pedro, emperor of Brazil, being in the 
city on his American tour, during the 
holding of the meetings, became an audi- 
tor, and was not only deeply moved by 



such a vast and unusual spectacle, but 
expressed his admiration of Mr. Moody's 
fervid preaching and Mr. Sankey's beauti- 
ful songs. The New York meetings were 
succeeded by visits from the evangelists to 
the south and west, with the most benefi- 
cial results. 



LXXVII. 

UNRIVALED PERFORMANCES BY PAUL MORPHY, THE 
AMERICAN CKESS CHAMPION.— 1858. 



His Extreme Youth, Marvelous Gifts and Genius, and Astonisliing Triumplis. — Tlie Most Renowned 
Players in America and Europe Vanquished by Him. — His Wonderful Victories in Blindfold Games 
with the Veteran .M.isters of Chess. — .Morphy's Bust Crowned with Laurel in Paris — Honors and 
Testimonials at Home — Morphy's Personal History — Early .Aptness for Chess. — .Skill When Twelve 
Years Old — Introduction to the Public — At the National Chess Congress. — Great Champions There. 
— Morphy Takes the First Prize. — Wins Eighty-one out of Eighty-four Games — Professional Visit 
Abroad. — Challenges the Chess Celebrities — His Boyish Appearance. — Modesty and Great Memory. 
— Aspect when at I'lay. — His Brilliant Combinations. — Feats Performed in Paris — Long anil Pro- 
foimd Games — Great Match Against Eight. — Unparalleled Spectacle. — Victor over Every Kival. — 
Without a Peer in the World. — Banquets to Him in Europe. — America Proud of Her Son. 



"Mr. Mo'phy always pItT». nnt merely the beat, but (he virrtT beatnioTe; ond If we p'ay themoye only ■ppmximitely cnrrfcl. we arc 
re to looe. Nobody ca'n liop'e u> gain Diurv than game, Duw and then, frum him."— A-NbaKsst.-*, liiE Ciiass Cuami-iux in Glkha5t. 



E^^ EST and good humor possessed the public mind, from one end of tlie 
■uiitry to the other, as the triumphs of Paul Morphy. the chess 
champion of the world, though scarcely yet attained to manhood, 
were announced one after the other, in an almost unbroken series 
at home and abroad, and against such odds as no 
other person of similar j'ears had ever before en- 
countered. His name was a pleasant charm in 
every mouth, and great was the honor accorded to 
.\merica when this New Orleans youth fought, and 
fairly beat on their own ground, and in the pres- 
ence of thronging crowds, all the greatest pvofes- 
__ sors, not onlv in Enuland but in Europe, of the 

MORfHv's woKLD-RKxowsED TRirMPHs. noole game 01 chess. 
The history of this extraordinary young man, as given by his biografihers at the 
period named, shows an astonishing natur.il adaptation to and fondness for the game, 
combined with the most patient and enduring study. He was born in New Orleans, in 
June, 1837. His father, a lawj-er, and judge of the supreme court of Louisiana, was 
fond of chess, and taught it to his son at a very early age. His inclination to it was very 
strong, and lii.s assiduity in cultivating it enormous. At the age of ten j'ears he was 
familiar with the moves of the game ; and when he was only twelve, he played with 
the celebrated Herr Lowenthal — a European jdayer of the first strength, who happened 
to be visiting the Crescent City. — and the result was that the veteran and world-famous 
plaj-er lost two games and drew one in contending with this little lad. From that time 




GREAT AND IVIEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



667 



forth, tlie name of Paul Morplij' was noised 
abroad in the chess circles of America with 
great commendation ; few were to be found 
bold enough to cope with him, and when 
they did so, it was to meet with unvaried 
defeat. Such a phenomenon as Morphy 
was perfectly unaccountable. 

On the assembling of the National 
Chess Congress in New York, in 1857, Mr. 
Morphy was for the first time introduced 
to the public. His youthful appearance 
and wonderful power soon made him the 
center of attraction, and as the labors of 
the Congress proceeded, it became appar- 
ent that he would be its champion — a 
position that he finally won by the remark- 
able force of his combinations and the 
marvelous skill and foresight of his de- 
signs, winning some eighty-one out of 
eighty-four games, his opponents being 
unrivaled pla^-ers. Paulsen, Lichtenhein, 
Thompson, Montgomery, Hammond, and 
Stanlej', all succumbed to his superior 
power, and he carried off the first prize of 
the American Chess Congress. 

Confident in his powers, Morphy- now 
sent a challenge to Mr. Staunton, the 
champion of English chess, inviting him 
to play at a match, the stakes to be five 
thousand dollars. But Mr. Staunton de- 
clined, on account of the distance. Mr. 
Morphy's enthusiasm soon led him to visit 
England, and there the j-outhful hero was 
received with most distinguished atten- 
tions. His opponents at the chess-board 
were the very strongest in the English 
field, including such men as Lowenthal, 
Boden, and other celebrities. Mr. Mor- 
phj-'s appearance, during these great strug- 
gles, is described by the English press as 
exceedingly interesting — indeed, curious. 
His slight, even boyish frame, his puny 
limbs, small face (though redeemed by the 
high and massive brow towering above it), 
the almost infantine expression of his 
features, rendered it difficult for English- 
men to believe that this was the great 
mental phenomenon of whom all were t.alk- 
ing and at whom all were marveling. His 
attitude was one of remarkable modest}', 
evidently quite unaffected, — not a sparkle 



of triumph in his eye, not a flash of half- 
concealed exultation on his cheek; nothing 
but a perfectly motionless and inscrutable 
impassibility, a gazing calmly and stead- 
fastly onwards to the end in view, as if 
with a fixed determination to attain that 
end. and an utter disregard for any small 
triumph of conquest fordoing what he was 
irresistibly' compelled to do. And as he 
looked, so he was, invincible. Game after 
game was won with a precision truly mar- 
velous, and that not so much b}- what is 
called stead}- play, as by a series of brill- 
iant combinations, depending upon calcu- 
lations involving .'sometimes many moves, 
and followed out with an unerring cer- 
tainty that must have been as terrible to 
his opponent as it was admirable to all the 
spectators. During one d.ay, he j^lajed 
and won eleven profound games, and, after 
returning to his lodgings at night, he 
recapitulated from memory, to a friend, 
every game, pointing out the variations 
minutely, and demonstrating the critical 
positions at which each was won or lost. 
This showed not only his superlative 
genius as a player, but also his astonishing 
power of memor}'. Among his antago- 
nists in London was the renowned Mr. 
Lowenthal ; fourteen games were plaj-ed, 
of which Mr. Morphy won nine, Mr. Low- 
enthal three, and two were drawn. In- 
deed, Mr. Morphy was victorious o^er all 
who opposed him, in London, and on the 
Continent it was the same. 

In Paris, he encountered such men as 
Harrwitz, Riviere, Laroehe, Journoud, and 
Devinck ; but the most celebrated rival 
with whom he was matched, while in 
Europe, was Adolph Anderssen, the ac- 
knowledged champion of German chess, — 
the result of this match being Morph}- 
seven, Anderssen two, drawn two. Though 
deprived of his long-enjoyed supremacy as 
the king among European chessmen, An- 
derssen magnanimously said: "Mr. Mor- 
jihy always plays, not merely the best, but 
the veri) best move ; and if we play the 
move only approximately correct, we are 
sure to lose. Nobody can hope to gain 
more than a game, now and then, from 



668 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



liini." And agiiin, this great master of 
chess said of his conqueror, " It is impossi- 
ble to play chess better than Mr. Morphy; 
if there be any difference in strength 
between him and Labourdonnais, it is in 
his favor." Anotlier great pla3-er, after 
trying him, said: "It is of no use; it is 
uiicertainti/ striir/glinrj against certainty.^' 
Such astounding feats as those per- 
formed by Mr. Jforphy, in Paris, brought 
tlie excitement in the chess-playing world 
of that city up to wliito heat; and the 
memorable occasion when he played against 
and beat, blindfolded, eight of the best 
players of Paris, at one time, led some to 
believe that he possessed almost super- 
natunil faculties. Tlio cafe de la regenre, 
at whicli this extraordinary feat occurred, 
had two large rooms on the ground floor. 
In the first room, which was full of marble 
.tables, were seated the eight adversaries of 
Jlr. Morphy. In the second room, in 
which were two billiard tables, was seated 
the single player. A large portion of this 
room, including the billiard tables, was 
shut off from the crowd b^- a cord, and 
behind the tables, in a large armchair, sat 
j\Ir. I\Iori)hy, with his back to the crowd. 
Two gentlemen, reporting for the press, 
kept the game, and two other gentlemen, 
^lessrs. Journoud and Riviere, cried out 
the moves, or carried tliem from one room 
to the other. The adversaries of Mr. 
JIor[>hv were all either old or middle-aged 
men, and eminent as skillful players. 
The boards of the eight players were num- 
bered 1, 2, 3, etc., and at half-|)ast twelve 
o'clock the game commenced, Mr. Morphy 
playing first, and calling out the same 
move for all the eight boards, KP 2. At 
seven o'clock. No. 7 was beaten with an 
unlooked-for check-mate. Soon after eight 
o'clock. No. abandoned the game as 
liopeless ; and, half an hour later. No. 6 
played for and gained a draw game. "Nos. 
1, 2, and 3, were soon after beaten. At 
ten o'clock, No. 4 made the blind player 
accept a draw game, but it was half-past 
ten before JI. Seguin, No. 8, a very old 
gentleman, who contended with great des- 
lieration, was beaten. Thus he beat six. 



wliile two, who acted on the defensive and 
only sought a draw game^-equivalent to a 
defeat — effected their purpose. 

During the entire game, whith lasted 
just ten hours, Mr. Morphy sat with his 
knees and eyes against the bare walls, 
never once rising or looking toward the 
audience, nor even taking a particle of 
drink or other refreshment. His only 
movements were those of crossing his legs 
from side to si<le, and occasionally fliumji- 
ing a tune with his fingers on the arms of 
the chair. He cried out his moves with- 
out turning his head. Against 1, 2, 3, 6, 
and 7, who were not up to the standard of 
the other three players, he frequently 




>.-V'm 





made his moves instantaneously after re- 
ceiving theirs. Ho was calm throughout, 
and never made a mistake, nor did he call 
a move twice. And, as around each of the 
eight boards there was a large collection of 
superior chess jilayers, who gave their ad- 
vice freely, and who had eight times longer 
tostudy theirphi}' in than the singleplayer, 
Mr. Morjjhy played certainly against fifty 
men, and they never ceased for a moment 
making supposed moves, and studying their 
game most thoroughly, during the long 
intervals that necessarily fell to each boanl. 
At the end of the game, a triinnphant 
shout of applause went up from the three 
hundred throats present, many of them 
Englishmen and Americans (among the 
latter was Professor Morse, who took a 
deep interest in this extraordinary game). 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



GG9 



but much the larger number were French. 
Morpliy did not seem at all fatigued, and 
appeared so modest that the frenzy of the 
Erench knew no bounds. He was shaken 
by the hand and complimented till he hung 
down his head in confusion. One gray- 
haired old man, an octogenarian chess- 
player, stroked Mr. Morphy's hair with his 
hands, as he would a child of his own, and 
showered him with terms of endearment. 
The waiters of the cafe had formed a pleas- 
ant conspiracy to carry Morpliy in triumph 
on their shoulders, but the multitude was 
so compact and demonstrative that they 
could not get near him, and finally had to 
abandon the attempt. These blindfold 
games he also played with equal success in 
Birmingliam. 

No less a man than Mr. IMongredien, 
the president of the London chess club, 
v.'ent to Paris, still further to satisfy him- 
self as to the real merit of Mr. ]\Ioriili3''s 
playing, and as to the rank he ought to 
occupy. Mr. Mongredien and Mr. Morphy 
})layed eight games, one of which, the first 
one, was drawn, and the others were 
gained by Mr. Morpliy. In this trial of 
skill, two facts were remarked in regard to 
Mr. Morphy's placing — which were also 
almost universally remarked in his games 
when contesting with a first-rate pla3'er. 
These were, that he seldom won the first 
game, and that up to about the twentieth 
move he rarely showed any superiority 
over his competitor. It was only after 
that point in the game, that he commenced 
those extraordinary and unlooked-for 
moves which astonished the audience and 
crushed his antagonist beyond hope of 
recovery. 

Previously to his departure from Paris, 
a splendid banquet was given him, on 
which occasion the most eminent French 
players did liim the unprecedented honor 
of crowning his bust with laurel. 

Returning to America, the young Achil- 
les of Chess was ever^'where received with 
spontaneous demonstrations of enthusiasm, 
and in the great cities he was the recipi- 
ent of splendid testimonials, worthy of his 
achievements and renown. 



It was in New York, that Mr. Morphy 
was honored with such an ovation as rarely 
falls to the lot of earth's greatest heroes, 
and still more rarely in simple recognition 
of a peculiar talent or genius. About fif- 
teen hundred ladies and gentlemen were 
in attendance on this occasion, and the 
presentation speech was made by John 
Van Bureii, to which Mr. Mori)hy replied 
in a neat and graceful manner. The 
cadeaux which he received from the chess 
club were of dazzling magnificence, — chess 
men in gold, boards of equally costly mate- 
rial, wreaths of silver in imitation of laurel, 
costly watches, etc., etc. 

To the tune of "See the Conquering 
Hero Comes," Mr. Morjihy entered the 
thronged and magnificent hall. As the 
procession reached the platform, and the 
figure of Morphy' became visible to the 
great body of the audience, the enthusiasm 
of the assemblage was intense. Amidst 
almost deafening applause, the youthful 
champion took a seat assigned him by the 
side of Mr. Charles OConor, and calmly 
surveyed the exciting scene. To those 
who had not seen the victor before, his 
extreme youth, mild expression and unas- 
suming manner, were matters of complete 
but most pleasurable surprise. The hero 
of the Cafe de Regence, the successful 
competitor of Harrwitz and Anderssen, the 
champion of the world in the profound 
game of chess, was but a lad in appearance 
and demeanor, and evidently without the 
least self-consciousness of his marvelous 
power. 

Mr. Van Buren, in his eloquent present- 
ation speech, gave a short review of the 
liistor3' of chess and of the eminent jjer- 
sonages who had distinguished themselves 
as players ; alluded to the rapid course and 
achievements of Mr. Morphy, who, in 
1857, commenced his career in New Or- 
leans, and, early in 1858, was the acknowl- 
edged victor, over all competitors, at New 
York, and had reached the culminating 
point in the halls of Paris and London; 
spoke of the thousand and more years in 
which chess had been known in various por- 
tions of the world — that it had been taught 



G70 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



and vahicil on tlie banks of tlic Ganges, in 
the icinotf ivj^ions of loi'lanil — throughout 
Europe, Asia, and in many ])arts t-von of 
Africa; instanced Franklin, Charlemagne, 
Catherine de Medicis, Leo X., Voltaire, all 
ol whom were lovers of the gan\e, and 
Napoleon, who had played in the identical 
cafe where Jlr. Morphy had won his victo- 
ries. The orator then read a letter from 
Professor Morse, who mentioned being 
I)resent at one of the games in Paris, 
where Mr. Morphy was received with 
great enthusiasm. A quotation was also 
read from Dr. Franklin's writings, in 
which he avowed himself the friend of the 
chess board, pointing out its representation 



to name }'ou " the chivalrous Bayard of 
Chess." But it is not for your qualities 
or conduct only as a chess [ilayer, that I 
have united in this proceeding. Your 
intercourse with your friends here, the 
accounts we have from New Orleans, the 
uniform representations from abroad, all 
concur in showing that in high-bred cour- 
tesy, true generosity and courage, innate 
modesty and strict integrit}', you have 
illustrated at home and abroad the charac- 
ter of an American gentleman ; and it is, 
therefore, with unaffected ])ridc, that I 
have become the medium of conveying to 
you the sentiments that I have expressed, 
and that I again offer for your acceptance 




I'M I. Mi.Krin II.Wl.NO EIOFIT GAMES 

of real life in inculcating foresight, circum- 
spection, and principles of assault and 
defense. 

After felicitously describing Mr. Mor- 
phy's position to be like one laying aside 
Ins weapons, and sighing, with Alexander, 
that there were no more worlds to conquer, 
Mr. Van Buren closed by saying: "Mr. 
Jlorphy — Your readiness to engage at all 
times, and with all comers, in chess con- 
tests — your refusal to make the condition 
of j'our health an excuse or a reason for 
declining — your utter rejection of all ad- 
vantages that might be your due in a con- 
test, and the intrepid spirit you manifested 
at Paris, induced Mons. St. Arnaut, one of 
the ablest and frankest of your adversaries, 



OF CHESS WlTHMi r SI I iNc; inf i:u\i:l». 

I this appropriate token of the regard of 
your countrymen and of their recognition 
of your services." The orator concluded 
by a.sking the vast audience to unite with 
him "in welcoming, with all the honors, 
Paul Morphij, fhf C/irsn C'/koiijiIoii of tlie 
World," and sat down amidst the wildest 
applause. 

Mr. Mor]>li3-, on rising to respond, grace- 
fully accepted the gift, and, in the course 
of his remarks, spoke of chess, " the kingly 
pastime," as a game that " never has been 
and never can be aught but a recreation. 
It should not be indulged in to the detri- 
ment of other and more serious avocations 
— should not absorb the mind or engross 
the thoughts of those who worship at its 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



671 



shrine ; but slioulj be kept in the back- 
ground and restrained witliin its province. 
As a mere game, a relaxation from the 
severer pursuits of life, it is deserving of 
high commendation. It is not only the 
most deliglitful and scientific, but the most 
moral of amusements. Unlike other games, 
in which lucre is the end and aim of the 
contestants, it recommends itself to the 
wise, by the fact that its mimic battles are 
fought for no prize but honor. It is emi- 
nently and emphatically the philosopher's 
game. Let the chess-board supersede the 
card-table, and a great improvement will 
be visible in the morals of the community." 
Mr. Morphy's manner and matter won 
upon all hearts, and his pleasant speech 
was followed by deafening cheers. 

Another grand ovation awaited Mr. 
Morphy at Boston, to which city he pro- 
ceeded soon after the close of the elegant 
liospitalities extended him in New York. 
On arriving in Boston, Mr. Morjjhy gave 
a public reception, under the auspices of 
the Boston Chess Club, whose guest he 
was. A brilliant company of friends and 
admirers assembled at an early hour, and, 
on Mr. Morphy making his appearance, he 
was ushered into a reception room, where 
a large number of gentlemen crowded 
around him, eager to see and greet the 
j'outhful hero of numberless chess battles. 
After having been introduced to several of 
the most distinguished persons present, 
Mr. Morphy was conducted into a large 
and magnificent apartment of the club and 
seated himself at a chess table, which was 
surrounded by ladies of beauty and fashion. 

Mr. Morphy quietly proceeded to ar- 
range the chess-men, seemingly uncon- 
scious of the fact that he was the conspic- 
uous mark of multitudes of bright and 
beautiful eyes. Mr. W. R. Broughton, 
who was considered one of the best players 
in the city, was selected as Mr. Morphy's 
opponent. In order to lessen the crowd, 
which was very large, arrangements were 
made to announce the moves in the oppo- 
site room, and the various tables therein 
were speedily surrounded by those inter- 
ested in the game. The game and com- 



ments commenced simultaneously, Mr. 
Morphy giving his opponent the odds of 
the Queen's Knight. President Sparks, 
Professor Longfellow, Professor Pierce, R. 
H. Dana, Jr., Hon. Josiah Quincy, Jr., 
Mayor Lincoln, Professor Huntington, 
and other emijient men, were present, and 
exhibited deep interest in the progress of 
the game, at every successive step. 

Mr. Morphy's moves were sudden, — gen- 
erally made on the instant. Mr. Brough- 
ton moved only after the most careful 
study. " Do 3'ou understand the game ? " 
inquired one venerable and distinguished 
gentleman of another. "No; but I am 
deeply interested in Morphj' ; he seems so 
modest and self-possessed." " That's true ; 
there is something extraordinary in his 
appearance, but I can't really make out 
what it is." People generally conversed 
in whispers, during the exciting joust, 
pronouncing his moves "fertile," "brill- 
iant," "dashing," and one young gentle- 
man declared in a low tone of voice, that 
the j'outhful champion was a "perfect 
stunner." Gentlemen of advanced years 
asserted, when the game was half-finished, 
that Mr. Broughton " didn't stand any 
sort of a chance." The game lasted until 
ten o'clock, when Mr. Broughton acknowl- 
edged that he was vanquished, and Mr. 
Morphy was then introduced to a large 
number of admirers, both ladies and gentle- 
men, the great majority of whom had 
remained standing during the entire even- 
ing, so great was their interest in the 
game. 

For several successive days, Mr. Morphy 
was the recipient of the most flattering 
attentions in Boston, — feted in all sorts of 
ways, and waited upon by many of the 
most eminent men of the city and state, — 
in all of which he maintained the same 
modest and unassuming demeanor with 
which fame had so long stamped him. He 
won golden opinions from all who observed 
or came in contact with him. 

But the most notable event in Mr. Mor- 
phy's reception at Boston, was the grand 
banquet given in his honor at the Revere 
House, May 31st, by the Boston Chess 



672 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Club. All the arrangements for the even- 
ing were of the most superb and costly 
description, the tables were covered with 
the choicest viands, and the finest of music 
enlivened the occasion. Among the dis- 
tinguished persons at the tables were Chief 
Justice Shaw, Professors Agassiz, Pierce, 
Huntington, and Sparks, Judge Parker, 
President Walker, of Harvard College, J. 
R. Lowell, E. P. Whipple, James T. 
Fields, Judge Thomas, Dr. O. W. Holmes, 
Hon. Josiah Quincj-, Mayor Lincoln, Sen- 
ator Wilson, and many others. 

Dr. 0. W. Holmes presided, and made 
a felicitous address of welcome to the guest 
of the evening, who, he declared, had hon- 
ored all who glory in the name of Ameri- 
cans, as the hero of a long series of blood- 
less battles, won for the common country. 



Dr. Holmes concluded by giving, as a sen- 
timent, " The health of Paul Morphy, the 
world's cliess champion : His peaceful bat- 
tles have Tielped to achieve a new revolu- 
tion ; his j'outhful triumphs have added a 
new clause to the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence." On rising to respond, Mr. 
Morphy was received with nine tumultu- 
ous cheers. He spoke of the unaffected dif- 
fidence with which he stood in the presence 
of such an intellectual audience, gracefully- 
tendered his thanks for the cordial welcome 
extended him, and remarked upon chess as 
the best relaxation amidst the more serious 
pursuits of life, and, as such, afforded an 
excellent discipline for the mind. Mr. 
Morphy's appearance was exceedingly pre- 
possessing, and all hearts were united in 
his favor. 



LXXVIII. 

BURNING OF THE STEAMSHIP AUSTRIA, ON HER WAY 
FROM HAMBURG TO NEW YORK.— 1S58. 



She Takes Fire on the Eleventh Day, from Combustion of the Hot Tar Used in Fumigation. — Three 
Decks Instantly in a Blaze. —Inability to Stop the Engine?. — The Ship Continues on Her Course in 
Furious Flames — Torture ami Death in Every Form. — Nearly Five Hundred Men, Women, and 
Children Lost. — A Hot Cliain in the Bucket of Tar. — Sudden and Singular Ignition. — Rapid Headway 
of the Flames — They Leap Up the Shrouds. — Powerlessness cif the Officers. — The Captain Panic- 
Stricken — Frantic Conduct of Passengers. — Swamping of the Boats. — Children Trodden Under Foot. 
— Writhing in tho Hcif — Slirieks and Cries. — Being Roasted Alive. — Only One Boat Afloat. — Jump- 
ing Into the Waves. — Last Embrace of 
Lovers, — Adieus of Husbands and 
Wives. — Seven Brothers and Sisters. — 
Struggles of the Firemen. — A Living 
Wall of Fire. — Fate of the Women. — 
Father and Son. — "A Sail!" — Rescue 
of a Few. 




" Then lose Irom eea tn Bkv the wild farewf 11. 
Then shrieked the timid, and blood slill the brave." 



ESCAPE FROM THE BUKNINQ STEAMER. 



TARTLING and terrible as was the tragedj' of the foundering of the Central 
America, in September, 1857, the horrors whicli invested the burning of the steamer 
Austria, in September, 1858, with her precious freight of hundreds of human beings, 
sent such a thrill of agony through two continents, as no mortal pen can fitly describe. 

The Austria was one of the four screw-steamers of the New York and Hamburg line, 
was constructed of iron, and, in proportion to her size, rated as one of the finest and 
strongest steamers that ever crossed the Atlantic. The measurement of this noble craft 
was two thousand five hundred tons. 

The ill-fated ship, commanded by Captain Heydtmann, sailed from Hamburg for 
Southampton and New York, on the second of September, 1858, with passengers and 
crew numbering five hundred and thirty-eight souls. On the thirteenth of September, 
Captain Heydtmann and the physician gave orders to have the vessel fumigated, and 
the fourth officer was charged with the execution of the order. He directed the boat- 
swain's mate to take a bucket of tar and a piece of hot iron, and go into the forward 
steerage to fumigate it. They heated a piece of chain and dipped it into the tar, to 
make a smoke ; but the chain was so hot that it set the tar on fire. At the same time, 
the other end of the chain became too hot to hold, and the boatswain's mate let it fall, 
thus upsetting the bucket of tar, which, being already on fire, rapidly spread over the 
deck in all directions. The flames from the tar immediately set fire to the berths and 
43 



674 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876 



mattresses in tlie steerage, and spread 
along the deck with incredible rapidity. 
In an instant it ran through the gangwa^ys 
to the hatchways at the entrance of the 
first and second cabins toward the poop, 
blazing up through them like a blast fur- 
nace, and thus cutting off all retreat for 
those who w-ere below. The cause of the 
fire communicating to all parts of the 
vessel so readily, was, that the day was 
very pleasant, the wind light, with a 
smooth sea, — and, in order to fumigate the 
vessel more thoroughly, all the port-holes, 
state-rooms, and doors in the bulkheads, 
were opened, to allow of a free circulation 
of air and a complete ventilation. Thus, 
in less than five minutes, the upper dock 
amidships was on fire. 

And noto, an instantaneous panic aroso, 
paralyzing alike the ship's company and 
the prissenyers. 

Every one on board appeared perfectly 
wild, the women crying out, "The ship is 
on fire I What will become of us ? " Some 
gave themselves up to despair at once, and 
engaged in loud and distressing appeals of 
](raycr; others shrieked and screamed; 
others, again, swooned and became help- 
less, and almost unconscious of the awful 
fate that awaited them, of being burncil 
alive ; while but a small number, compara- 
tively, of the human beings on board, had 
presence of mind and firmness enough to 
go properly to work to save themselves, 
and even those met with impediments 
which too frequently exist in such contin- 
gencies to the saving of life. 

Although there were ten boats, capable 
of doing effective service, they were found 
transfixed, as it were, to the chocks on 
which they were kept, as though they had 
been riveted to them with the expectation 
that they would never be recpiired. The 
hose, designed for the extinguishing of fire, 
was out of order, and tlie panic-stricken 
captain, instead of organizing his officers 
and crew for energetic a<;tion in attempt- 
ing to subdue the flames, or, if deemed 
impracticable, in manning tlie boats for 
the transfer of the women and children, 
lost all command of himself. On hearing 



of the fire, he rushed up bareheaded to the 
deck, and when he saw the flames ex- 
claimed, " We are all lost!" In running 
aft to the quarter-deck, he had to travel 
through the fire, which already separated 
the fore part from the aft part of the ship. 
Captain Heydtmann, therefore, in break- 
ing the flames, was much injured ; he was 
seen later, by the first officer, standing on 
the quarter-deck, apparently stunned by 
the injury lie had received. He was seen 
again, trying to get out a boat, but which, 
when let down, was swamped, and he, fall- 
ing into the sea — though some of the pas- 
sengers state that tbej- saw him jump 
overboard — was soon left far behind. 

Such was the terrible confusion now 
prevailing, that children were trodden 
under foot by the elder, distracted passen- 
gers; some persons ran up aloft into the 
rigging, as though they would be saved in 
that way ; others, again, began to doff 
their heav^' clothing, and others to prepare 
themselves for the final resort of jumi)ing 
overboard, and running the risk of being 
picked up. There existed a regular boat- 
roll on the vessel, so that each man knew 
to which boat to attend, in case of need, 
under the com maud of an officer, or sub- 
officer. Hut the men were hindered in 
getting to the boats by the frantic passen- 
gers, who already had rushed to them. 
The boats on the starboard soon caught 
fire, this side being most exposed to the 
flames. On the larboard, four boats were 
lowered, but three of them were smashed 
before reaching the water, by the people 
overcrowding them, and one lioat alone got 
safely aft oat. 

The single boat which thus reached the 
water without being smashed, was one of 
the large metallic life-boats ; it was at first, 
when lowered down, filled with people. }iut 
the weight was so great that many of 
them fell out when the boat reached the 
water. Thirty succeeded in keeping on, 
but the boat capsized several times, being 
full of water, and seven men were drowned 
therebj*. There then remained in the 
boat the first officer and six of the crew, 
besides one steward and fifteen passengers. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



675 




nrRXINU <JF THE STEAMSHIP AUSTRIA, WITH FIVE HUNDRED SOULS ON BOARD. 



It was three o'clock when this boat got 
free of the steamer, but, as tlie boat was 
difficult of management, and the vessel 
was still going ahead, the two became soon 
separated. Thej' tried hard to bail the 
water out of the boat, but did not succeed 
until a raft was constructed of the oars and 
masts belonging to the boat, upon which 
the passengers were placed, and then, the 
boat being cleared of water, they were put 
on board again. About one hour after 
having left the steamer, they got sight of 
the Erench bark Maurice, and on reaching 



her, found the third officer and some of the 
passengers already on board. 

As the flames increased, the poor, ter- 
ror-stricken creatures on the bowsprit 
jumjwd into the water as their clothes 
caught on fire. One tvoman, with tivo 
daughters, kissed them both, and then, 
putting Iter arms around them, all three 
jumped into the water. 

An English lady, who came on board at 
Southampton, had three children with her 
— a girl about five j-ears old, a boy about 
three, and a b.abe in her arms. The bus- 



676 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



baud had jumped over, and :is the dames 
grew hotter and burned more tien-ely, she 
took lier little girl, kissed her, and threw 
her into the water. She then took the boy, 
a fair, healthy little fellow, embraced him, 
gave him her last kiss, and threw liim in ; 
he struck on his back and struggled very 
hard, rising to the surface three separate 
times, calling out '" Mamma," each time, 
in the most piteous tones, then sunk to 
rise no more. The poor woman then 
clasped her baby to her breast and jumped 
in with it, kissing it repeatedly as they 
sank to the bottom. 

A young man who was in the second 
cabin, and who was going to California to 
join hia brother, had his sister witli him, a 
girl sixteen or seventeen years of age. 
In order to save her from the fire, he 
fastened a rope around her bod}-, and, 
making one end fast to the deck, let her 
down over the side of the vessel. lie then 
put another rope around ]iis own body, and 
let himself down; but the rope was not 
well fastened, and, as he jumped down, it 
slipped from under liis arms and caught 
him around the throat. As he struck the 
water, the waves dashed him against the 
vessel's side, and, falling back again, he 
was quickly choked to death — his sister 
meanwhile shrieking, "Z/tVyu.' help! will 
nobody help mi/ brother?" AVhen last 
seen, the poor girl was hanging there, 
screaming and crying, with the waves 
dashing the dead body of her brother 
against her, every moment. 

Similar in sadness was the case of an 
Englishman about fifty years of age, who, 
with his wife, crawled out on the bowsprit 
as far as tlie^' could, and, as the flames 
approached, they clasped their arms around 
each other, gave one last kiss, jumped into 
the water, and .sank immediately. And 
so, brothers and sister.s, fathers and sons, 
mothers and daughters, husbands and 
wives, lovingly embraced each other, and 
plunged into the waves. 

Indescribably heart-rending was the 
scene on the quarter-deck. Passengers 
were rushing frantically to and fro — hus- 
bands seeking their wives, wives in search 



of their husbands, relatives looking after 
relatives, parents lamenting the loss of 
their children, some wholly paralyzed by 
fear, others madly crying to be saved, but 
a few perfectly calm and collected. The 
flames pressed so closely upon them, that 
here, as at the bowsprit, multitudes leaped 
over, and met a watery grave, the same 
scenes being exhibited, of relatives clasped 
in mutual embrace, plunging together into 
the abyss of death. Two beautiful girls, 
supposed to be sisters, jumped over, and 
sank kissing each other. A missionary 
and wife leaped into the sea together, and 
the stewardess and assistant steward, arm 
in arm, followed. So, too, lovers in tender 
embrace, met the awful fate before them. 

One Hungarian gentleman, with seven 
fine children, four of them girls, made hi.i 
wife jump in, tlicn blessed his six eldest 
children, viade them juntp m one after 
another, and foUoived them with an infant 
in his arms. 

Thus, in twos and threes, or singly, the 
whole company met their fate. Several 
hesitated to leap from the burning ship 
until the liist moment, as the height was 
twenty-two feet, and were only, at length, 
compelled to throw themselves off to avoid 
a more frightful death. In half an hour, 
not a soul was to be seen on the jjoop. 

Such was the fearful progress of the tire, 
that, almost from the very first, the flames 
leaped up the shrouds, and licked along 
the yards, until the sails were in a furious 
blaze, so that burning fragments of them 
were continually falling on the persons of 
those below, and setting the dresses of the 
ladies on fire. One garment after another 
was in this way destroyed, and the loss 
of each article of clothing only exposed 
the person more and more to the intense 
heat. When they could no longer bear 
up under this torture, they sought relief 
in the yawning ocean. Some, however, 
endured ever}' possible suffering, before 
faking this great and final step, a few of 
the ladies, indeed, being almost disrobed 
before leaping, as at last they were com- 
pelled to, into the jaws of death. The 
men, too, withstood the .scorching of their 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



677 



bodies until they were forced by its terror 
into tlie briny deep, where they were gen- 
erally engulfed <at once. The women who 
had anj- garments left, would be buoyed 
up for a moment by them ; but in a few 
minutes they disappeared as suddenly as 
if some unseen power below had caught 
them and dragged them under. 

But the fate of the firemen would ap- 
pear to liave been even more dreadful. 
Some of the passengers who, after jump- 
ing overboard, were so fortunate as to save 
themselves by swimming and floating on 
pieces of timber, stated that when they 
were in the water, they saio agonizing 
human faces jirotruding from the loiver 
tier of port-holes, close to the water, as 
though they were trying to force their 
way out, while the bright flames were 
shining behind them. These were sup- 
jjosed to be the firemen and engineers, 
surrounded by a living wall of fire. When 
the Austria left Southampton, she drew 
only sixteen feet of water, and at the time 
of this catastrophe probably a foot or so 
less, so that she was about twenty feet out 
of water. Hearing a loud cry of anguish, 
one of the passengers looked over the 
steamer's side, and there discovered a 
man's head projecting from a port-hole, 
the poor fellow seemingly making efforts 
to force his way through the narrow aper- 
ture, but on either side of his head a vol- 
ume of flame was streaming forth, thus 
giving the appearance that his body was 
wrapped in flames. 

The account given of the struggle and 
fate of Mr. Rosen, as related by his son, 
is full of mournful interest, exhibiting, as 
it does, the warmth of parental instincts, 
and the somewhat questionable filial duti- 
f ulness and affection of the son. The latter 
says : My father and I ran forward to es- 
cape the fire, and were followed bj' the other 
passengers. I saw the fire pouring out 
through the skylights. In ten or fifteen 
minutes more, the cry ran fore and aft, " To 
the boats ! " All hands then crowded into 
the boats, which had been hanging in-board, 
hut were now swung out by the davits. The 
first mate mounted the rail near the forward 



boat on the port side, in which we were 
sitting with a large crowd of other passen- 
gers. He ordered all of us to get out of 
the boat, so that it could be lowered. But 
as fast as one set got out, others rushed 
into their places, and we also went back to 
our first seat. The first mate then took a 
sailor's knife and cut the tackle, and the 
boat fell into the water. Falling from 
such a height, the boat filled and sunk, 
and all the people were washed out. I 
came up under the boat, but I found my 
way out, and clambered into the boat. 
There were five or six oars lashed together, 
and they floated out. My father came up 
within reach of these, and seized hold of 
them with five or six others. He saw me 
in the boat, and called out to me, " Oh, 
my hoy, tre are all lost ! " In a short time, 
one end of the oar drifted near the boat, 
and I caught hold of it to haul him in. I 
also asked a passenger near to assist me 
in saving my father. We pulled together, 
but there were so many clinging to the 
oars, we could not move them. The gen- 
tlemen said, " It is no use ; we cannot 
move them." I then said to my father, 
"Hold on, and do the best you can ; it is 
impossible to move them." He then 
drifted along near us, still clinging to the 
oars. In this way he held on for nearly 
four hours. I could not bear to look at 
him, and we drifted in silence. There 
was nothing in the boat to throw to him. 
During this time the boat rolled over sev- 
eral times, and many were drowned each 
time. I was so exhausted I could not get 
into the boat. I asked one of the passen- 
gers to assist me, and he kindly drew me 
into the boat. We drifted between two 
and three miles astern of the steamer, and 
could only see the flames rising above the 
deck. There was no conversation, except 
an occasional request bj' the first mate 
that the passengers would sit still, so as 
not to capsize the boat. My father by 
this time had drifted so near tlie lioat that 
he caught hold of the stern. I was at the 
bow and could not reach him. Mr. John 
F. Cox said, "Charley, your father has 
hold of the stern of the boat, and can get 



678 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



in." I said, '• Oh, I am so glad tliat lie is 
safe." But he was so exhausted that he 
held on only aliout five minutes, and then 
sunk. Just before he let go, he said to 
Mr. Cox, "If my hoy is safe, J am sat- 
isfied." 

Some interesting details of the awful 
catastrophe, not given in the preceding 
account, are contained in the narrative by 
Professor Glaubensklee, of the New York 
Free Academ^y. Mr. Glaubensklee states 
that he was in his state-room when the 
cry of "fire" arose. He hurriedly thrust 
Lis feet into his boots and ran out of his 
state-room to go on deck, when he saw 
ascending, in the vicinity of the funnel, 
bright flames. Going on deck, he .saw the 
passengers crowding toward the boats, and 
went to remonstrate with them, .is many 



on the port side ; he was endeavoring to 
get out the peojjle who had crowded into 
the boat, in order to lower it. Immedi- 
ately after, the professor saw the first 
engineer rush up on deck, bareheaded, to 
see what was the matter. He was heard 
to cry out, through the engine hatch, to 
his assistants, to stop the engine and set 
the steam-pumps to work ; at the same 
time, he turned around for the purpose of 
going down stairs himself. Nothing was 
seen of him subsequent to this, but the 
professor thought he did not succeed in 
getting down on account of the flumes. 
Another passenger said that lie saw the 
engineer, with his clothes on fire, either 
fall or throw himself overboard at about 
the same time. 

The engine was not stopped, and the 




of them were personally known to him. 
He found, however, that they were deaf to 
the voice of reason, and continued to crowd 
to the boats. He at once resolved, that, 
come what might, he would not trust him- 
self in any boat, as it was evident that it 
would be more unsafe to do so than to 
remain by tlie ship. Turning around, for 
the purpose of going back to the quarter- 
deck, he found it impossible to do so, the 
dock being on fire amidships, — the whole 
vessel amidships seeming to be in a blaze, 
and all communication between the fore 
and after parts of the ship was cut off. 

On first reaching the deck, Professor 
Glaubensklee looked forward to see what 
was the matter. The captain was then 
standing bareheaded near the second boat 



pumps were not set to work, owing, proba- 
bly, to the fact, that the engineer on duty 
— the engine-room being three decks be- 
low — did not hear the first engineer's 
commands, and may have been killed or 
smothered previously, as the fire was 
raging over their heads. 

Finding it impossible to return to 
the quarter-deck. Professor Glaubensklee 
turned toward the forecastle, when he was 
called upon by a .sailor to assist in cutting 
down the jibs. In compliance, he climbed 
up a rope and cut away its fastenings. 
The jib was cut down for the double pur- 
pose of preventing them from catching 
fire, and also in order that they might be 
saturated with water and used to check 
the progress of the fire in the forward part 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



679 



of the ship. The people on deck, however, 
did not understand the orders, and threw 
the sail overboard without first making it 
fast to a rope, and so it was lost. There- 
upon, the professor went in search of some- 
thing out of which to construct a raft. 
The mate, several of the crew, and espe- 
cially the master's mate, did the same. 
But they could find no wood left, and the 
forward part of the ship was of iron. The 
spare spars and hatchway doors and 
covers had already been thrown over- 
board, to sustain other persons. The pvo- 
fessor then inquired of the master's mate 
if there were no pumps forward, which 
could be set to work ; but he replied that 
there were none. 

As a last resort, Professor Glaubensklee 
stepped over the starboard bulwarks upon 
the plank sheer — a ledge some eighteen 
inches wide — and looked out for the two 
vessels which had been discerned in the 
distance. The one which was closest 
seemed to approach very rapidly. At this 
time, the steamer was still moving on in 
its course, westward, towards her. The 
other vessel did not approach, and Profes- 
sor Glaubensklee's opinion was that her 
people did not see the steamer, as, when 
he saw her, only the top of her masts could 
be seen above the horizon. But Captain 
Renaud, of the bark Maurice, who at that 
time was close enough to see her mainsails 
and even her hull itself, subsequently said 
that he had signaled her but without suc- 
cess, as she did not answer the signal, but 
kept on her way. Renaud was furious at 
their apparent inhumanity, more especially 
as he thought it might have been a French 
vessel. 

About three-quarters of an hour after 
the fire broke out, the foremast and shortly 
after the mainmast fell over the starboard 
side. The mizzenmast stood for some 
time, perhaps half an hour later, and, 
about the time the mainmast fell, it was 
thought that the boiler exploded, as an 
immense quantity of steam was seen to 
rush up in the vicinity of the funnel. 
The ship, which had till now been heading 
west by south, commenced heading around 



to the north, the engine having finally 
stopped, and the smoke which had hereto- 
fore gone aft, came over the starboard side. 
About ten minutes later, the powder mag- 
azine exploded. To those on board, the 
explosion did not seem verj' severe ; the 
whole quantity of gunpowder in the maga- 
zine was within one hundred pounds. 

As soon as the vessel had commenced 
falling off before the wind, the position of 
those on the forecastle became dangerous. 
All those forward had been previously 
secure, as the heat and flames were driven 
to the stern. But when the ship ceased to 
head to windward, the flames and smoke 
went forward, and those who had taken ref- 
uge on the forecastle were compelled to go 
over the bows, and take refuge in the bow- 
sprit, and in the forechains. On one of these 
chains, Professor Glaubensklee crept out 
as far as possible, followed by a crowd of 
other persons, and held on by the double- 
headed eagle which formed the ship's 
figure-head. The bowsprit, martingales, 
and ever^' part of the fore-rigging below 
the bulwarks, were then tilled with people, 
whose naturally dangerous position be- 
came every minute more perilous, as the 
smoke and fier^' fragments blew over them. 
The clothes of these people were constantly 
igniting from the fiery flakes, and it re- 
quired all their adroitness to prevent them 
from blazing up and consuming them. 
Fortunately, the forward part of the vessel 
was almost entirely of iron, or they would 
inevitably have been driven from this their 
only refuge into the sea. 

Knowing that he might at any moment 
find it necessary to jump into the water. 
Professor Glaubensklee divested himself 
of his boots, shirt, and everything else 
that might impede him in swimming, 
keeping nothing on but his trousers, which 
he cut off some distance above the knees. 
Thus they remained several hours, watch- 
ing the coming ship, all the time specta- 
tors of suffering and death in every form. 
Some got shockingly burned, and others, 
becoming exhausted, dropped off one by 
one into the sea, and sank to rise no more. 

The approach of the vessel — the Mau^ 



680 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



rice — now became very slow, as the engine 
of tlie stcjunsliip ceased to move, and, as 
tlie light wind had died away, the burning 
vessel lay becalmed and motionless. Nu- 
merous ropes had been fastened to the 
railing, the bowsprit, the chains and other 
parts of the vessel ; and the people were 
clinffing to these, preparatory to lowering 
themselves to the water, as soon as succor 
sliould arrive. As the wind died away, 
and the French bark remained motionless, 
the hope which had heretofore animated the 
survivors, died awaj' with it. The other 
vessel had disappeared. Another sail soon 
showed itself above the horizon, probably 
the Norwegian bark which was seen cruis- 
ing around the wreck the next morning. 

When the bark Jlaurice had got within 
three-quarters of a mile of the steamer, it 
fell calm, and Captain Renaud brought his 
vessel to and lowered his boats. When 
the first boat from the bark reached the 
wreck, the 2wor creatures shouted, /itiitjhed 
hysterically, and shed tears of joy, for 
their deliverance Professor Glaubens- 
klee, as the boat neared him, sprang into 
the water and swam toward her. He suc- 
ceeded in reaching her, and proved to be 
the first person taken from the water. 
Fo\ir or five persons more were picked up, 
and then thej' hurried back with their 
precious freight. About midwa}' between 
the steamship and the vessel, they en- 
countered what they supposed was a corpse 
floating in the water, face uppermost. The 
mate of the M.iurice insisted on picking it 
up, when it proved to be the bod}' of The- 
odore Eisfeld, who was restored to life some 
time after being juit on board the vessel. 

On reaching the ^laurice, the rescued 
people were kindly received by Captain 
Renaud and his men, who set about pro- 
viding the^n with clothes, and binding up 
their wounds. Two boats were kept plying 
between the Maurice and the steamer, 
until nightfall. At that time, probably 
from ten to twenty persons were clinging 
to the bowsprit of the steamer and the 
ropes suspended from it. Captain Renaud 
was afraid to risk the lives of his men in 
an open boat, after dark, so the good work 



\Yas suspended. Soon after sunset, one of 
the life-boats of the steamer, containing 
the first officer and about twelve others, 
was taken on board. 

Most of the rescued ones were nearly 
naked; some of them quite so. Captain 
Renaud and his men had distributed all 
the clothing they had to them, reserving 
to their own use only that which they had 
on. The j>eople saved in the life-boat were 
wet and chilled through ; the.se were also 
furnished with suitable clothing. 

("aptain Renaud concluded to remain all 
night near the steamer, and renew the 
search in the morning. During the night, 
tents of old sails and spars were made on 
deck, under which the rescued slej)!. The 
captain devoted himself to the wants of the 
suffering. 

Early the next niorning, a breeze sprang 
up from the north, when the Maurice's 
sails were set, and she was headed once 
more for the burning steamer. At day- 
break, the}' saw a Norwegian bark near 
the Austria, and one of her boats passing 
around the steamer. The l^Iaurice did 
not pass the bark within hailing distance, 
but thej' hailed the boat, without, how- 
ever, receiving an answer, as she had no 
speaking trumpet. As it was a)q)arent, 
even to the naked eye, that there were no 
more persons on the wreck nor floating 
around it, and, if there had been, that the 
Norwegian's boat must have picked them 
up. Captain Renaud availed himself of the 
favorable breeze and proceeded on his 
course. He was bound from Newfound- 
laml to the Mauritius, and had about four 
months' provisions on board for a crew of 
ten or twelve persons. But as these would 
not last very long for the large numlier 
added to the vessel's company, he con- 
cluded to bear up for P'ayal. Subsequently, 
they fell in with the bark Lotus, which 
took off twelve, carrisd them to Halifax, 
whence the captain of the Prince Albert 
tendered them ]iassage to New York. 
Thus, of the five hundred and thirty-eight 
persons on board the splendid but ill-fated 
Austria, the lives of only sixty-seven were 
saved from the ravages of fire and Hood. 



LXXIX. 

BLOODY AND REVOLTING PRIZE-FIGHT BETWEEN JOHN 
MORRISSEY AND JOHN C. HEENAN.— 1858. 



Stakes, Two Thousand Five Hundred Dollars a Side. — Wonderful Muscular Appearance of the Com- 
batants. — Eleven Terrific Rounds in Twenly-two Minutes. — Morrissey Declared Victor, and Hailed as 
the " Champion of America." — Gala Day for Ruffians and Blacklegs — A Disgrace to Civilization. — 
Growth of American Pugilism — Result of Emigration — Branded as Felony in the United States. — 
Remarkable Career of Morrissey — Convictions for Various Crimes. — Serves in the Penitentiary. — 
Fights wilh Yankee Sullivan. — Morrissey Wins — His Great Match with Heenan. — Public Atten- 
tion Engrossed by it — Spot Chosen for the " Sport " — Laws and Magistrates Shunned. — The Con- 
testants Shake Hands — Their Tremendous Prowess. — Blood, Brutality, and Mutilation. — Heenan 
Staggers in the Eleventh Round — Fails at the Call of " Time." — The Sponge of Defeat Thrown 
Up — Morrissey at the "Post of Honor "—He Sets Up a Drinking Saloon. — Enters Political Life. — 
Elected to Congress. — Truth Stranger Than Fiction. 



" Tho" swelled, to bnn«ting. every vein, 
No token gave he yet of paio." 




.ACCOMPANIMENTS OF THK PRIZE RFNO. 



NTIL within a romparatively recent period, prize- 
fighting has not been known in the United States 
as a popular " entertainment," nor as a profession 
conducted on regular principles or rules of so-called 
muscular science. It however commenced several 
years prior to the date fixed by this narration, and 
the names of Hyer, Beasley, Kensett, Fuller, Ham- 
mond, Secor, Bell, Sandford, McLane, McCleester, 
McCluskey, Lilly, McCoy, and some others, have 
early notoriety in the annals of this brutal and 
demoralizing "sport," — a phase in the development of American society and habits, 
which all good citizens have reason to lament as disgraceful to civilization, and, com- 
pared with which, even a Spanish bull-bait is respectable. And yet the event here 
narrated was one which, for the time, almost exclusively engrossed public attention. 

Gradually, the taste for such exhibitions increased in the United States, — principally 
the residt of emigration from England and Ireland, — until professed pugilists were to 
be found, in considerable numbers, in almost all the large cities, and the "ring" became 
an established American institution, chiefly among the reckless classes. Nor have the 
stringent statutes, enacted by most of the states, against these inhuman and criminal 
spectacles, by which both the participants and witnesses are made legal offenders, been 
able to prevent their frequent repetition. 

More from the fact that the parties to the prize-fights here recorded became so noted 



682 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



in their subsequent career, than from any 
extraordinary i)eculiarity characterizing 
these exhihitors above others of tlieir class, 
has this of 1858 been selected, in especial, 
as a specimen or type of that barbarous 
diversion, now, unhappily, so common, but 
ajjainst which the moral sense of the com- 
munity has, from the first, been most firmly 
set. The account of the fight in 1853 will 
very appropriately precede liere the more 
notable one of 1858, as showing, more fully, 
the personal and professional character- 
istics of that combatant who was thowjht 
worthy to be transferred from t/ie prize- 
ring to the halls of congress ! 

Surely, one of the most remarkable facts 
in American life, character, and events, 
is presented in the career of John Morris- 
soy, who, though known only as a professed 
pugilist from Ireland, and who, according 
to the official record, had, in the course 
of his adventurous life, been eight times 
indicted for assault with intent to kill, 
assault and battery, and burglary, and had 
served nine months in the penitentiary for 
breaches of the public peace, — was after- 
wards elected, for successive terni.s, a mem- 
ber of the House of Representatives of the 
United States, his constituents comprising 
the " Bloody Sixth " ward, in the city of 
New York, including the famous " Five 
Points " locality. Sullivan, nicknamed 
" Yankee," but who, like Morrissey, liad 
come over from Ireland, ended his career 
in California, by suicide, while in the hands 
of the Vigilance Committee, by whom he 
momentarily expected to be hung for his 
various crimes. Hecnan had earned for 
himself the highest pugilistic renown on 
both sides of the Atlantic, being considered 
a foeman whose prowess it was an honor 
to test. 

The twelfth of October, 1853, was the 
time fixed upon for the match between 
Morris.sey and Sullivan, the stake being 
one thousand dollars a side ; the battle- 
ground selected was a place called Boston 
Four Corners, about a hundred miles north- 
east from the city of New York, near the 
line between Massachusetts and New 
York, but the ownership of which spot 



was claimed by neither state. It formerly 
was part of Massachusetts, and ceded by 
the latter to New York, but the cession 
was never ratified. From the time the 
match was made, until the day of the fight, 
the combatants passed through the usual 
process of training. 

Crowds left the cit}' on the day appointed, 
for the [Jace designated, and the numbers 
arriving from All>any and the adjai-ent 
country, with tliesefrom New York, swelled 
the number of spectators to some thousands. 
The usual scenes of dissipation, tumult 
and quarreling, were not wanting on this 
occasion ; but, aside from the exhibition 
itself, and its accompaniments, the s])ot 
was picturesque in the extreme, and all the 
trees and hillocks in the vicinity were 
loaded with human beings. In the lan- 
guage of the " ring," descriptive of the 
exhibition, and which is here employed in 
order that the affair may appear in the 
same light as presented by those j)rofes- 
sionally concerned, the j)rinri]ials showed 
at the time appointed, both looking in i\\)- 
top trim, but Sullivan seemed old enough 
to be Morrissey's father. Morrissey was 
about twenty-two years of age. Sullivan 
was forty-one, and he was thirty pounds 
lighter, and three inches shorter than his 
youthful opponent, who stejijied into the 
ring first, amidst much enthusiasm from 
his friends and escorted by Tom O'Donncll 
and " Awful " Gardner, and set his colors 
with a long scarf representing the stars 
and stripes. Sullivan soon after made his 
a])pearance, smiling as he stei>ped forward, 
and was also received with acclamation by 
his friends. Sullivan was escorted b)' 
Billy AVilson and another friend, who 
mounted Sullivan's colors with a very 
jjiratical and death-dealing signal, com- 
posed of a black silk cravat and still more 
suspicious looking cords. A few minutes 
before two o'clock, the two men shook 
hands and toed the scratch, each with an 
elegant attitude, time was called, and the 
combatants fought. 

Round 1. — Sullivan made a feint or two, 
and then planted a stinging hit on Morris- 
sey's nose. Morrissey struck out at Sulli- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



683 



van with both hands, but without reaching 
him. Sullivan got in another heavy blow 
with his left hand on Morrissey's left eye, 
whereupon Morrissey made a rush at Sul- 
livan, and, in getting away, Sullivan fell 
through the ropes. 

Round 2. — As the men came up, Mor- 
rissey's nose was bleeding, and his left eye 
somewhat swollen. Sullivan's " seconds 
claimed first blood. Morrissey led off with 
his left, but was stopped by Sullivan, who 
gave him another hard one on the nose, 
and got away, Morrissey following and 
striking out resolutely for Sullivan. His 
blows, however, were either too short or 
stopped by Sullivan, who, in return, put in 
two or three severe ones on the damaged 
spots on Morrissey's face, and then went 
down. The superior science of Sullivan 
was quite manifest, and his friends were 
in ecstasies. 

Round 3. — Morrissey's face looking 
badly, his left eye much swollen, and his 
nose and mouth bleeding profusely. He 
opened the fighting, and both went at it 
pell-mell, Sullivan stopping nearly all his 
blows, and getting in easily on Morrissey's 
countenance. Sullivan received a rap on 
the left cheek in this round, which altered 
its appearance materially. Sullivan closed 
the round by hitting at Morrissey's body 
and going down. 

Round 4. — Morrissey's eye had been 
lanced, to stop the swelling, but it was fast 
closing. Sullivan went to work at him 
rapidly, and got in four left-hand hits in 
succession. Morrissey then made a tre- 
mendous blow at Sullivan, which took him 
on the side of the head and staggered him. 
He, however, rallied, and got in two or 
three more on Morrissey's face, and then 
went down. In this round, Sullivan's left 
hand appeared badly cut between the 
knuckles, and, from his manner of keeping 
it open, except when hitting, it was evi- 
dent that it was badly hurt. 

Round 5. — Morrissey's face appeared 
shockingly mangled, while Sullivan's, al- 
though his left cheek was much swollen 
and his hand hurt, appeared all confidence. 
This round was a sharp one. Morrissey 



fought vigorously ; but Sullivan outfought 
him at every point, putting in several 
severe right-handers. 

Round 6. — Morrissey presented a hor- 
rible appearance, the blood streaming from 
his nose and mouth in profusion. Sullivan 
led off, and put in two or three more on 
the sore spots, when, in return, Morrissey 
caught him a heavy left-hander on the 
neck. This elated his friends, and cries of 
" Go on, John, — a few more like that will 
finish him," were shouted by a number of 
voices. The blow, although a stunner, did 
not seem to affect Sullivan so much as was 
expected, for he was soon again at work. 




Round 7. — Morrissey's left eye entirely 
shut up. Sullivan led off at Morrissey's 
face, putting in one or two, and closed the 
round by hitting Morrissey on the ribs and 
going down. Sullivan was not touched in 
this round. 

Round 8. — Morrissey commenced the 
round desperately, striking at and follow- 
ing Sullivan about wildly ; but the latter 
managed to save himself, and got down 
without being hit. 

Round 9. — Sullivan opened the game 
by planting a sharp hit on the old wounds 
of Morrissey, jumped back, put in another, 
stopped Morrissey's return, and got in a 
third. Then some counter-hitting took 
place, in which Sullivan had the best of it, 
as Morrissey seemed to hit short. Sulli- 
van down, as usual. 

Round 10. — Sullivan's left eye was now 
closing fast, and Morrissey managed in this 



684 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



round to put in another stinger on it. The 
couiitpr-liitting was severe tlirotighout this 
roiind, Sullivan getting in live for one on 
Morrissey. Morrissey presented a picture 
at the close of tliis round truly revolting. 
Sullivan closed the round in his usual way 
of hitting Morrissey and then falling. 

Round 11. — Sullivan's seconds now cau- 
tioned him to keep out and take it easy ; 
that he must surely win, if he would only 
be careful. Sullivan went to work at the 
face, but he received a tremendous body 
blow from Morrissey. 

Round 12. — This round was a sharp and 
a short one. Morrissey rushed at Sullivan, 
and, after a few counter hits, Morrissey 
getting in a couple on Sullivan's damaged 
ogle, and Sullivan four or five hits on 
Morrissey's nose, Sullivan fell. 

Round 13. — This was also of very .short 
duration. Sullivan hit Morrissey in the 
face, and, in making a swinging hit with 
his right hand, fell at Morrissey's feet. 

Round 14. — Sullivan planted two sting- 
ing liits on the nose of his adversary, and 
received a return on his much disfigured 
cheek. He went down as before. 

At the fifteenth round, Morrissey's 
friends began to look for a long fight, and 
therefore told him to change tactics and 
force the fighting, which he did. In the 
seventeenth, Sullivan's friends, seeing how 
things were working, advised him to 
abstain from "rushing things," and hence 
ensued an exchange of blows so severe and 
scientific, as to cause loud continued cheer- 
ing for both men, until, at last, Sullivan 
contrived his usual slip down. 

The general style of the first fourteen 
rounds was then resumed and continued 
until the end of the thirty-second, during 
all of which Morrissey's appearance, from 
such continual punishment on the face, 
made him appear worse than he really was, 
for he was yet firm and very active. Sul- 
livan looked upon him ivs likely to give in 
soon, and tried hard but unavailingly to 
finish him off. At the thirty-third round, 
however, Morrissey got cranky in the 
knees; and in the thirty-fourth. Sullivan 
gave him at least a dozen blows in the 



face, and at last fell from his own exer- 
tions. At the thirty-sixth, Morrissey yet 
seemed to .sink, and Sullivan got more 
eflScient. On the call for the thirty- 
seventh, JIorrisse3''s wonderful ]>ower.s of 
endurance seemed to take a new lease. 
Sullivan got in, as usual, on the sore cheek. 
Morrissey then dashed after him, rushed 
him to the ropes, and lifted him entirely 
clear of the ground, Sullivan keeping his 
feet drawn up meanwhile. The seconds 
of both jiarties now rushed to their men, 
and high words and promiscuous fighting 
ensued. During the confusion, " Time!" 
was called. The usual eight seconds addi- 
tional were allowed, and then two or three 
full minutes besides. Morrissey now, hav- 
ing never left his post of duty, was hailed 
as the winner, the referee pronouncing a 
decision in his favor. 

But by far the most noted of these 
pugilistic encounters was that between 
Morrissey and Heenan, the latter known 
as the Benicia boy and "rham])ion of the 
world ! " This occurred October 20, 1858, 
at Long I'oint Island, about seventy-five 
miles from Buffalo, X. Y. ; the stakes being 
$52,500 a side. There were eleven terrific 
rounds, occupying twenty-two minutes, 
when Morrissey was declared victor. Mul- 
titudes went from near and afar to witness 
this barbarous exhibition; and it is no 
exaggeration to say that the occasion was 
a gala-day for ruftians, blacklegs, drunk- 
ards, gamblers, and prison birds, — Long 
Point lieing selected in order to escape the 
law and its oflicers, both those engag- 
ing in these fights .ind those witness- 
ing them being branded by the law as 
felons, and j)unishable with fine and 
imprisonment. 

At this time, Morrissey's height was five 
feet and eleven and three-fourths inches, 
and his weight about one hundred and 
seventj-three pounds. Heenan stood six 
feet two inches, and his weight was consid- 
erably more than Morrissey's. The colors 
of Morrissey were a blue with white bird's- 
eye spots ; Heenan's were a long silk scarf, 
with the American ensign at one half the 
length. Heenan's ajipearance was liereu- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



685 



lean, and that of Morrissey was pronounced 
perfection itself. 

Round 1. — After a little feinting for an 
opening, Morrissey let fly his left, but was 
stopped neatl}^ Heenan, letting fly his 
right, caught Morrissey with a tremendous 
hit upon the left eye. Loud cheers here 
burst forth from Heenan's side, mingled 
with ciSes of " First Mood ! " Heenan dis- 
charged three more with his left in rapid 
succession, pressing Morrissey toward the 
ropes. Morrissey seemed surprised at this 
unexpected cannonade, and some desperate 
in-fighting followed, in which Heenan 
seemed to be the master. Morrissey broke 
away, and Heenan struck a stake instead 




j.e.S^ 



^^€Mu 



of his man, and seriously damaged two of 
his knuckles. Heenan then rushed in, and 
severe hits were exchanged, mostly in his 
favor. Morrissey then seemed on the point 
of throwing him, when Heenan broke the 
hold, changed tlie position in his own favor, 
and threw Morrissey heavily, falling upon 
him. This round lasted five minutes, and 
a more terrific one was never witnessed. 

Round 2. — Both came up to the call of 
time promptly, but both considerably ex- 
hausted. No sooner had they reached the 
scratch, than Morrissey led off with his 
left, but was stopped. He tried again, and 
got on the mouth, and was heavily cross- 
countered on the nose, Heenan repeating 
this twice in succession. Morrissey again 
planted his left on the mouth, and his right 
heavily on the ribs ; but Heenan, from his 
superior length of reach, was able to get in 



his left without a return. He hit strong 
and straight, and Morrissey fought rather 
wild from exhaustion. At length they 
clinched, and in the struggle Heenan's 
hand was seen in a suspicious manner in 
the face of Morrissey, which gave rise to 
the cry of " foul," under the idea that he 
was gouging. In the fall, Morrissey was 
thrown, both going down together. 

Round 3. — Morrissey forced the fight- 
ing and got home his left on the face, fol- 
lowing it up with his right on the ribs. 
Heenan countered, but was stopped twice 
in succession. He would not be denied, 
however, and cross-countered heavily on 
the eye and nose, but received a terrific 
left-hander over the region of the heart ; 
and, as he came to close quarters, Morris- 
sey administered a severe upper-cut, which 
caused copious bleeding at the nose. 

Round 4. — Neither were very prompt to 
time, but Heenan was most fatigued. At 
the scratch he let go his right, but w;.s out 
of distance; he tried again, and got home 
on the face, which staggered Morrissej'. 
The latter returned on the mouth, and, as 
Heenan came in, administered a spanking 
upper-cut, which caused the blood to flow 
freely from Heenan's nose. 

Round 5. — Both came up slow to time. 
Morrissey's left eye was in mourning, and 
his nose swollen, but he appeared to have 
got his second wind, while Heenan was 
exhibiting unmistakable symptoms of dis- 
tress. The former saw his advantage in 
forcing the fighting, and led off with his 
left, causing Heenan to stagger. The lat- 
ter countered, but again did Morrissey get 
heavily on the ribs. As Morrissey bored 
in, Heenan steadied himself, and, with a 
well-delivered and straight left-hander, met 
Morrissey as he came, and hitting him fair, 
knocked him off his legs ; the yielding 
nature of the ground, however, tending to 
produce this result. This was the first 
knock down for Heenan. 

Round 6. — Morrissey came up, improv- 
ing every round, while Heenan was falling 
off. The former took the initiative by 
le<uling off and getting home on the mouth. 
Both were out of wind, and stood looking 



686 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177B-1876. 



intently at each other for a short space of 
timo, when they were called to the scratch. 
Morrissey led off again, and got in his left 
on the face, Heenan countering him on the 
eye. Morrissey threw Heenan, falling 
heavil3' upon him. 

Round 7. — Heenan evidently had he- 
come weaker, hut Morrissey seemed im- 
proving. On reaching the .scratch, the 
former led off, hut was easily stopped, and 
Morrissey countered on the neck. He tried 
it again, and although he received a heavy 
right-hander on the eye, he again got home 
a heavj' rib-roaster. Some exchanges in 
favor of Morrissey ensued, and, in the 
struggle for the fall, Heenan was thrown 
heavily. A cry of ' foul ' was raised against 
Morrissey, but was not allowed. 

Round 8. — Morrissey led off, and forced 
the fighting in Hceiuiirs corner. He 
lunged out his left, and caught the latter 
on his ribs smartly', and planted his right 
on the nioutli. Heenan countered on jMor- 
rissey's face, but with slight effect. He 
laid himself open, however, to Morris.sey's 
attack, his weak state being painfully evi- 
dent. In the close, Morrissey threw him 
heavily. 

Round 9. — Morrissej' at scratch and led 
off prompt!}', as it was evident that Hee- 
nan was fast falling from weakness. He 
countered him twice in succession, on the 
face and ribs, while Heenan could only get 
home his right once. He almost turned 
round from the impetus of his own blow 
after missing Morrissey, as he was unable 
to judge the distance correctl}'. Morris- 
sey followed him up to his own corner and 
forced the fighting, planting his right 
occasionally on the body and his left on 
the mouth and nose, causing a copious flow 
of blood. At length they closed, and 
Heenan was thrown. 

Round 10. — Morrissey again led off ; but 
it was evident that the fight would be 
decided in his favor. He was strong on 
his legs, and came up to his man with 
determination. With the other it was 
clear that nature was exhausted from the 
tremendous hitting he bad received. Mor- 
rissey, indeed, bore evidence of the great 



powers of hitting exhibited by his oppo- 
nent. His left eye was nearly closed, bis 
mouth and nose out of sliaj>e, and a cut 
over his eye. Morrissey got home a heavy 
facer, and was countered by Heenan on the 
brow. He let go his left, and again visited 
the mouth, and, as Heenan came in, met 
him with a dangerous upper-cut, which 
took effect, rendering Heenan wilif in his 
delivery. Again did he deliver the upper- 
cut, and with effect, as it almost turned 
him round. Morrissey threw him easily. 

Round 11, and latf. — Morrissey got 
heavily home on the mouth, and avoided 
the return. He then, as Heenan staggered 
in, gave him an upper cut, which caused 
him to turn almost round. Morrissey met 
him, and planted a tremendous blow on the 
neck, which again almost turned him round. 
He followed it up with two terrific right 
and left banders on the ribs and throat, 
which sent Heenan down. When time 
was called, Heenan was still insensible, 
and his second.s, seeing the state of affairs, 
tl.vpu- lip the sponge in token of defeat, and 
Morrissey was hailed as " Champion of 
America ! " 

All the courtesies of war followed with 
the utmost grace, at the close of the fight. 
Morrissey was carried over to his fallen 
foe, and, in true French style, kissed his 
hand in token of his valor. Both were 
borne from the field in the same wagon. 
The next morning, Heenan left his 'card' 
on Morrissey, and Morrissey sent in return 
a gift of one hundred dollars to Heenan, 
who, although he declined a purse pre- 
sented, accepted Morrissey's gift in token 
of amity. 

It would seem from the same newspaper 
accounts from which the preceding narra- 
tion is made up, that Morrissey and his 
backers had, from the very first, expected 
that he would triumph. The betting at 
the commencement was five hundred dol- 
lars to three hundred, which was taken at 
once ; one hundred to seventy was freely 
offered. Morrissey himself offered to laj' 
his opponent one thousand to six hundred 
that he would win the fight, but the offer 
was rejected — Heenan stating that he had 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



687 



no monej'. Morrissey also offered to lay 
five hundred to three hundred that he 
gained the first knock-down. Even betting 
on the first blood, first fall, and first 
knock-down, was currently offered. The 
friends of Morrissey displayed the greatest 
confidence in him, and were willing to take 
the above odds to any amount. Among 
the bets laid was one between the trainers 
of the men. Shepherd, Morriasey's trainer, 
laid Aaron Jones 'ten English Sovereigns' 
— fifty dollars — that Morrissey would win 
the fight, which was accepted by Jones. 

So brutal and disgusting was the con- 
duct of those who had the management of 
this fight, that the opinion of it expressed 
by Jones, himself an English professional 
in the ' ring,' was that of extreme con- 
tempt. Tlie idea, too, of men going to see 
a pugilistic set-to, armed to the teeth, was, 
to him, a notion as novel as it was outrag- 
eous. One incident, in particular, showed 
the spirit rampant during the day. In 
one of the rounds, Heenan was fighting 
Morrissey up into his (Heenan's) corner. 
Fearing, in the clench, one or both of the 
men would fall on him, Jones endeavored 
to move a little on one side, when Mulli- 
gan, clapping his hand on a six-shooter, 
cried, " Keep still — (a slight expletive) — 
or I shoot you down" — (another slight 
expletive.) Jones was one of Heenan's 
seconds, and, being unaccustomed to such 
scenes at home — though the English prize 
ring is certainly as disreputable a scene as 
need be, — he was in very natural fear of 
his life all the while he was endeavoring 
to fulfill his professional duty. 

Morrissey stated in conversation, the 
next morning, that he felt no ordinary 
pleasure when his task was at an end ; 
that he went into the ring with a full con- 
viction that he should not gain a bloodless 
victory, and that he should get his brain- 
pan pretty well knocked up; that it was a 
much tougher job than he expected; add- 
ing, also, that whoever fought Heenan, in 
the future, must put up with a good deal 
more punching than would do him good. 
On being challenged by Heenan's friends 
to another conflict, for five thousand dollars 



a side, Morrissey declined ; indeed, pre- 
viously to entering the ring at Long Point, 
he declared his intention of making that 
his last appearance, his purpose being to 
set up a drinking-saloon. 

But, that he was to be selected to fill a 
seat in the legislative hall where Clay, and 
Webster, and Randolph, and Everett, 
earned immortal laurels of wisdom and 
eloquence, was a thought which, at this 
time, had probably never entered his bat- 
tered ' brain-pan,' nor had such an event 
ever occurred even in the somewhat 
speckled annals of the American congress 
during the last half-century. The fact at 
least kept good the old adage, that truth is 
stranger than fiction. Still, though lack- 
ing the advantages of an early education, 
and accustomed for so manj' years to the 
companionship and pursuits of prize- 
fighters and gamblers, Morrissey showed 
himself to be in some respects, a man above 
his position and contacts, his strong points 
consisting largely- in his manly candor and 
strong common sense. In an interview 
between him and some highly respectable 
gentlemen, held in New York, in the win- 
ter of 1866, he conversed about himself 
with unreserved frankness, and answered 
courteously all questions that were pro- 
pounded him by the persons present. He 
said he had no idea of becoming a candi- 
date for congress when the newspapers 
first mentioned his name, but that so much 
had been said against him by certain news- 
papers, that he concluded to become a can- 
didate and show them that, notwithstand- 
ing their opposition to him personally and 
to his party politically, he could be nomi- 
nated and elected. 

After his nomination, many of his 
friends went to him and advised him to 
close up his gambling-houses and abandon 
all business of that character. 

" If I am elected, I must be taken as I 
am," was his reply. 

He seemed to understand and appreciate 
the significance of his election, an over- 
whelming vote being cast in his favor, and 
the attitude in which, as a consequence, 
he stood before the country. A poor, 



688 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



uneducated youth, when lie came to Amer- 
ica, lie fell in with firemen, local politicians, 
and gamblers, Ijut said he had done the 
best he could, and had always been fair 
between man and man — had been a prize- 
fighter and a gambler, but those were mat- 
ters that could not be helped now; he 
would make no promise for the future, but 
did not intend that his friends should have 
any cause to regret his future conduct and 
course of life. His bearing, in congress, 
was universally conceded to have been 
intelligent, modest, and gentlemanly. 

The most notable feature in Hecnan's 
subsequent professional career, was the 
(lisfinguislicd liDUor, as it was deemed, of 



crossing the Atlantic to meet Sayers, the 
great English pugilist, in what was termed 
the "Grand International Match '' between 
England and America, Sayers appearing 
as the champion of the former and Heenan 
of the latter. The brutal set-to was wit- 
nessed by a vast multitude from all parts of 
the kingdom and the continent, including, 
also, many from America, and British lonls 
and noblemen not a few. Every leading 
paper, including the London Times, hith- 
erto opposed to the thing, sent a full corps 
of reporters to the spot, and Loril Palmer- 
ston, in his place in parliament, humor- 
ously vindicated the scene. The affair, 
however, resulted in a 'drawn' battle. 



LXXX. 

HOMICIDE OF HON. P. B. KEY BY HON. DANIEL E. SICKLES, 
MEMBER OF CONGRESS, IN WASHINGTON, D. C— 1859. 



Seduction of Mrs. Sickles by Mr. Key. — Tlieir Flagrant Criminal Intimacy. — Youtli, Beauty, and Dis- 
tinguished Social Position of Mrs. Sickles. — Full Confession of the Manner, Times, and Place of Her 
Guilt. — Mr. Sickles Tried for Murder and Triumphantly Acquitted. — Mrs. Sickles's Fashionable 
Career. — Admiration of Her Charms. — Key's Amours in Female Society. — His Marked Attentions 
to Mrs. Sickles. — An Anonymous Letter to Mr. Sickles — His Wife's Infidelity Disclosed — Plans to 
Discover the Truth. — Sad Kevelations Made — Regular Assignations for Months — House Rented for 
this Purpose. — A Husband's Agony — Detects Key Signaling to Mrs. Sickles. — Rushes from the 
House in a Frenzy. — Encounters Key on the Street — Angry Salutations : a Grapple. — Key Shot 
Dead: Last Words. — The Seducer in His Coffin. — House of Infamy Described. — Sickles Indicted 
and in Court. — Public Rejoicings at the Verdict. — Mrs. Sickles's Brief Future. — Fair, Ruined, For- 
given, Dead. 



•You Bcoundrel, you have (liahonored my house— you must diel"— Exclamation of S1CKLE8, on fibixo at Ket. 




_=.i" XTENSE excitement filled the public------ 

'^^ mind, when the tragic news was heralded ' " 
from the federal capital, that the Hon. Philip Barton Key, district attorney for the 
District of Columbia, had been shot dead in one of the streets in Washington, by the 



G90 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Hon. Daniel E. Sickles, member of con- 
gress from New York, because of criminal 
intercourse between Mr. Ke^' and Mrs. 
Sickles. Tills terrible lioniiiide took jilaee 
on Sunday, February' 27, 1859, and, not- 
withstanding its sanguinary and dejilora- 
ble character, was almost universally 
viewed as the inevitable sequel to a rola- 
tiouship of guilt between two of the par- 
ties, such as, in its bold wantonness, had 
rarely been equaled even in circles of soci- 
ety far less distinguished. The circum- 
stances of this event, as here reproduced 
from the journals of the day, will be found 
to possess an interest equally rare and 
sad, in the criminal annals of the century. 

Of the three individuals inuncdiatcly 
involved in this transaction, Mr. Key was 
the senior in years. He was a man of fine 
presence, tall stature, and winning man- 
ners, and belonged to a family which for 
nearly half a century had been settled at 
Washington, and moved in the highest 
ranks. His father had been a prominent 
man in his day, and composed the Star 
Spangled Banner. About sixteen years 
prior to the tragedy. Attorney Key mar- 
ried a Miss Swan, of Baltimore. After 
bearing him four children, this lady died 
some ten years from the time of her mar- 
riage; since her death, Mr. Key remained 
unmarried. Before his alliance with Miss 
Swan, he was quite noted as a " lady's 
man"; and as a widower his prestige in 
this respect returned to him, no man in 
Washington being more jjopular with the 
fair sex. 

Mr. Sickles had for some years been a 
prominent New York lawyer and politician. 
In 1853, he married Miss Teresa Bagioli, 
daughter of an Italian music teacher 
residing in New York ; she was seventeen 
years of age, very pretty and girlish, ex- 
tremely attractive in manner, well edu- 
cated, and charming in every wa^'. The 
same year, on the appointment of Mr. 
Buchanan as minister to England, the 
latter chose Mr. Sickles as his secretary of 
legation, to acce]>t which, Mr. Sickles 
resigned his office of corporation attorney 
of New York citv. He took his bride with 



him to Europe, where her beauty attracted 
the marked attention of the English, 
Dutch, and French courts; and during her 
whole residence in London, she received 
the most flattering attentions from many 
persons whose names are historical, and 
was especially beloved by Lady Clarendon 
and Lady Palmerston, as well as b^- other 
leaders of the Briti.sli aristocracy. A 
daughter was in course of time born to the 
happy couple, and named Laura. 

Returning to America before the jiresi- 
dential election, Mr. Sickles exerted him- 
self actively in favor of Mr. Buchanan, and 
was elected member of congress at the 
time his patron was chosen president. 
Subsequently, Mr. Sickles resided partly 
at Washington and partly in New York. 
At Washington, he lived in the most 
fashionable quarter, on Lafayette Square, 
within a stone's throw of the president's 
house. His hospitalities were liberal and 
graceful, — receptions, dinners, and balls, 
vicing with those of the most opulent sen- 
ators and cabinet ministers. Of these 
entertainments Mrs. Sickles was the soul 
and charm. Her being a universal favor- 
ite, liowever, did not blind the eyes of 
those around lier to the particular atten- 
tions paid her by Mr. Key. Long before 
the linal tragedy, this intimacy between 
the two had not only been remarked in 
society, but had led to notes between Mr. 
Key and Jlr. Sickles ; the latter, however, 
became entirely satislied by the exjilana- 
tioiis nia<le, and harmony continued. 

It would ajipear that, in their subse- 
quent jiroceedings, neither Mr. Ke}' nor 
Mrs. Sickles acted with ordinary prudence, 
the frequency of their clandestine meet- 
ings, and their mode of signaling to each 
other, being too obvious to escape the 
notice of others. Their guilty amours 
were now approaching a deadly termina- 
tion. On the 24th of February, Mr. 
Sickles had a dinner-party at his house. 
After the dinner, the host and most of 
the guests went to a bop at Willard's hotel. 
As he was leaving his house, Mr. Sickles 
received a letter, which he thrust, un- 
opened, into his pocket. On his return 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



691 



home, lie opened this letter, and found it 
to he anonj'mous ; it stated that a guilty 
intrigue existed between Mr. Key and 
Mrs. Sickles, and added that they were in 
the habit of meeting at a house leased 
from a negro, the location of which it 
specified. Mr. Sickles spent a sleepless 
night, and early next morning dispatched 
a friend to the locality in question, to 
watch. The friend saw nothing ; but, from 
the inquiries he made, he ascertained that 
a lady resembling Mrs. Sickles had, in 
fact, been in the habit of meeting a gen- 
tleman in the house designated. Armed 
with these presumptions, Mr. Sickles 
charged his wife with adultery. She ex- 
claimed, "Oh, I see I am discovered!" 
and confessed her guilt, imploring her 
husband to spare her. He declared that 
he did not wish to injure her, but she 
must put her confession in writing, which 
she did. 




I'HILIP BAKTON KEY. 

In the confession made by Mrs. Sickles, 
the most important statements are as fol- 
lows : I have been in a house in Fifteenth 
street, with Mr. Key ; how many times, I 
don't know; I believe the house belongs 
to a colored man ; the house is unoccupied ; 
commenced going there the latter part of 
January ; have been in alone and with 
Mr. Key; usually staid an hour or more. 
There was a bed in the second storj' — I 
did what is usual for a wicked woman to 
do. Tlie intimacy commenced this winter, 
when I came from New York, in that 
house — an intimacy of an improper kind ; 
have met half a dozen times or more, at 
different hours of the day ; on Mondaj' of 



this week, and Wednesday also ; would 
arrange meetings when we met in the 
street and at parties. Never would speak 
to him when Mr. Sickles was at home, 
because I knew he did not like me to 
speak to him. Did not see Mr. Key for 
some days after I got here ; he then told 
me he had hired the house as a place 
where he and I could meet. I agreed to 
it. Have walked there together, say four 
times — I do not think more ; was there on 
Wednesdaj' last, between two and three. 
I went there alone. Laura was at Mrs. 
Hoover's ; Mr. Key took and left her 
there at my request. I think the intimacy 
commenced in April or Maj^, 1858. I did 
not think it safe to meet him in this house, 
because there are servants who might sus- 
pect something ; as a general thing, have 
worn black and white woolen plaid dress, 
and beaver hat trimmed with black velvet; 
have worn a black silk dress there also, 
also a phiid silk dress, black velvet cloak 
trimmed with lace, and black velvet shawl 
trimmed with fringe ; on Wednesdaj' I 
either had on my brown dress or black and 
white woolen dress, beaver hat and velvet 
shawl. I arranged with Mr. Key to go in 
the back way, after leaving Laura at Mrs. 
Hoover's. He met me at Mr. Douglass's ; 
the arrangement to go in the back way 
was either made in the street or by Mr. 
Douglass, as we would be less likely to be 
seen ; the house is in Fifteenth street, 
between K and L streets, on the left-hand 
side of the way. 

The confession thus made by Mrs. 
Sickles was written in her own hand, in 
the evening. All that night, according to 
the evidence given by inmates of the 
house, she laj' in great mental distress, 
with her head on a chair. The ensuing 
Sunday, Mr. Sickles was in great agony, 
tearing his hair, and calling on God to wit- 
ness his troubles. In the morning, he sent 
for his friend, Mr. Butterworth, who, on 
his arrival at the house, found Mr. Sickles 
almost beyond self-control, and exclaiming 
continnall}', " I am a dishonored and ruined 
man, and cannot look yon in the face ! " 
Mr. Butterworth counseled moderation ; 



692 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



and, oil leaving the house for a lew iniu- 
utes, he was informed on his return, that 
Key liad just passed the liousc twice, wav- 
ing or twirling his handkerchief three 
times us a signal. 

While conversing with Mr. Woolbridge, 
a mutual friend who hud also called, Mr. 
Sickles came into the library and said he 
had "seen the scoundrel making signals;" 
and he added, " My God I this is horrible !" 
Mr. Butterwortli said, " Mr. Sickles, you 
must be calm, and look this matter square 
in the face. If there be a possibility of 
keeping the certain knoivledge of this 
crime from the public, you must do noth- 
ing to destroy that possibility. You may 
be mistaken in your belief that it is known 
to the whole city." He instantly replied, 
"No, no, my friend, I am not; it is 
already the town talk." To this, Mr. Hut- 
terworth said, "K that be so, there is but 
one course left for you, as a man of honor 
— you need no advice." After a few 
moments' silence, Mr. Sickles remarked 
that he "was satisfied that Mr. Key had 
been in the habit of making his signals 
from a window of the club-house opposite 
— and what surprised him verj' much was 
that his wife strenuously denied this, 
though freely confessing her guilt." Mr. 
Sickles then walked into the hall, saying 
to Mr. Butterwortli, "Come, go over with 
me to Stewart's room in the club-house, 
and he may be able to inform me whether 
Key has a room tliere, and for what pur- 
poses he uses it." To this Mr. Butter- 
worth assented, and walked out into the 
street, supposing that Mr. Sickles was 
following him. 

Mr. Butterwortli further stated that, 
when he left Mr. Sickles in the hall, he 
was satisfied that Mr. Sickles had no 
weapons on his person. " He was without 
his overcoat. He said nothing to me 
about weapons, or the probability of en- 
countering Mr. Key. I walked slowly 
down the avenue, on the south side, to the 
corner, and, as I was crossing the street, I 
saw Mr. Kej' advance a few steps toward 
me. He saluted me, saying, "Good 
iMorning. Mr. Butterwortli. AV'hat a fine 



day we have." I responded, and said, 
"Have you come from the club?" He 
said, " I have." I asked, " Is Mr. Stew- 
art in his room '! " He answered, " Yes, 
and he is quite unwell." I then said, " I 
am going to see him. Good morning;" 
and turned to leave him. As I did so, I 
saw ]Mr. Sickles, for the first time after 
leaving his house, coming ra|)idly down 
Sixteenth street, on the side next the 
square, and then near the corner. I had 
walked about thirty feet on my way to the 
club, when I heard Mr. Sickles exclaim, in 
a loud voice, 

" Keij, you scoundrel, you have di.ifion- 
ored my house — you 7nnst die ! " 

Immediately turning around, Mr. But- 
terwortli states that he saw Mr. Key 
thrust his hand into his vest or side coat- 
pocket, to take a step in the direction of 
Mr. Sickles, and, simultaneously, heard 
the discharge of a pistol. Mr. Key then 
rapidly advanced on ^Ir. Sickles, seized 
him with his left hand b^' the collar of the 
coat, and seemed to make an effort to 
strike with something in liis right hand. 
This proved to be merely' an opera-glass. 
Mr. Sickles backed into the middle of the 
street, when lie succeeded in extricating 
himself from Mr. Kej''s grasp, drew a 
pistol from his overcoat pocket, presented 
it at Mr. Key, who retreated backward up 
Sixteenth street, toward the club, and 
threw something at Mr. Sickles — the 
opera-glass. Mr. Sickles followed, and, 
when within ten feet, fired. Mr. Key was 
wounded. He staggered toward the side- 
walk, exclaiming '' JJon't shoot inc.' " He 
leaned for a moment against a tree, when 
Mr. Sickles advanced ujion him, exploded 
a cap, and then fired a third time. As 
Mr. K<\v was falling, Mr. Sickles fre- 
quently exclaimed, " You villuin, you have 
dishonored my house, and you must die!" 
After Mr. Key fell, there was no more 
firing. The wounds were mortal. 

After Mr. Sickles's arrest and conveyal 
to jail, he maintained a perfectly calm 
demeanor, conversing with his friends, and 
freely' stating the particulars of the case. 
He seemed to feel that he could have pur- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



693 



sued no otlier course toward the deceased 
— that no satisfaction which the law could 
give would redress his wrong. Nor did he 
conceal his continued love for his wife, 
though depriving her of her wedding 
ring and other marriage souvenirs. Mrs. 
Sickles wrote Mr. Sickles several letters, 
full of devoted expressions of gratitude for 
his uniform kindness toward her, and of 
heart-rending declarations of repentance 
for having plunged him into so much 
sorrow. His only fault, she averred, was 
that of being too kind and over-indulgent; 
had he been less so, and guarded her more 
carefullj' hj the exercise of a husband's 
authority, she declared that her lamenta- 
ble position would have been avoided. To 
such an extreme of men- 
tal agony did she be- 
come reduced, and be- 
lieving that if she con- 
tinued long in such a 
state of feeling, it would 
probably end in de- 
|rangement o r self-de- 
struction, appeal was 
made by a mutual 
ifriend, to Mr. Sickles, to 
restore to Mrs. Sickles 
the wedding ring which 
he had taken from her 
hand on the day of the 
tragedy. Mr. Sickles 
said, in response, that 
under these circum- 
stances he could not 
resist the appeal in be- 
half of one he had so long cherished with 
such deep affection, and that while he was 
willing to return the emblem of their 
former love and union, he must, though 
harboring no feelings of resentment, re- 
turn it brol-rn. 

Mr. Sickles had many caller.s while in 
jail, including members of the cabinet, and 
of congress, innumerable, and other official 
dignitaries. President Buchanan sent a 
message of condolence to him. Mrs. 
Sickles had but few calls from her former 
friends. The scene at the jail, on the 
arrival of Mrs. Sickles's mother and father, 



when brought into the presence of Mr. 
Sickles, was very harrowing, the screams 
and sobs of the poor woman comjiletely 
overwhelming him. 

Naturally enough, the house of assigna- 
tion on Fifteenth street was, for a time, 
the object of excited curiosity to multi- 
tudes of visitors — a queer building, of 
substantial brick, standing directly on the 
street, two stories in height, narrow, with 
a roof slightly sloping toward the sidewalk, 
a small porch, and an L running back to a 
muddy alley. For this house. Key paid 
fifty dollars per month, and almost every 
morning he was seen, at nine or ten o'clock, 
to enter the front door. He came gener- 
ally on foot, but sometimes on horseback, 





y^^^^ 



hitching his iron-gray to a convenient 
post. He was in the habit of signifying 
his presence in the house by a red ribbon 
hung from an upper room in the rear, 
which could be seen from the cross-streets. 
Mrs. Sickles would walk down one of these, 
usually K street, which was nearest her 
house, and, upon catching sight of the 
signal, this charming lady — one of the 
most beautiful and idolized in the highest 
circle of AVnshington society, and but 
lately the flattered and beloved companion 
of Lady Palmerston and other leaders at 
Eurojjean courts — woidd dart between the 



694 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



negro liiits, up tlie blind and nuiddv ullcy, 
and by a back gate reach the phice where 
the partner of her guilt and ruin was in 
waiting. Sometimes she was in a morn- 
ing dress, sometimes disguised, sometimes 
with her face enveloped in a large hood. 

The murdered man was conveyed to his 
late residence and placed in his coffin. 
The body was strewed with white camel- 
lias. The face was calm in expression, 
and still wore the sfindy mustache which 
adorned it in life. For more than two 
hours after the deceased w.is arrayed for 
liis final resting-place, a motley crowd — 
boy and man, rich and poor, black and 
white, free and slave — poured through the 
parlor to take a glimpse of the corpse. 
Only wlien the clergymen took their 
places did the mourners appear — few in 
numl)er, for the mother of the dead man, 
.more than seventy years of age, and who 
in this last bereaTeraent mourned the vio- 
lent death of the third of her five sons, 
was in Baltimore, and the children were 
with her. 

On the fourth of April, ensuing, Mr. 
Sickles was put on his trial for murder, 
before the criminal court of Washington, 
Judge Crawford presiding. The public 
prosecutor was Jlr. Ould, the new district 
attorney, and associated with him was 'Mr. 
Carlisle. The prisoner was defended by 
Messrs. Brady and Graliam of New York ; 
Stanton, Chilton, and Ratdiffe, of Wash- 
ington ; and several others, among whom 
was Mr. Thomas F. Meagher. In a clear 
voice, Mr. Sickles pleaded "Not Guilty." 

The excitement during the trial was 
most intense, and e.xtended to the remot- 
est parts of the land. A great amount of 
evidence was put in, the discussions and 
arguments of the learned array of counsel 
were listened to by crowded audiences, and 
profound solemnity marked every counte- 
nance. During tl)e examination of his 
friend, Hon. R. J. Walker, as the latter 
was describing the spasmodic agony in 
which he found Mr. Sickles, on I'alling at 
his house February 27th, Mr. Sickles was 
violently affected, breaking out into sobs 
and profusely sliedding tears, so that, sup- 



ported by friends on each side, he was 
obliged to be conducted to another room 
for relief. The witness particularly, and 
many of the spectators, were moved to 
tears. The scene was one of deep inter- 
est. In a few minutes Mr. Sickles was 
brought back into court, his countenance 
still indicating extreme mental suffering. 

Two main propositions constituted the 
substance of Mr. Sickles's legal defense, 
namely, that the adulterer may be slain 
with impunity by the injured husband, 
and that, at the time of the iiomicide, Mr. 
Sickles, goaded to exasperation, was in 
such a state of mind that he was not 
accountable for his acts. Nor did the jury 
fail to be impressed when the pathetic 
appeal was made to them, in the closing 
argument, to place an estimate by their 
verdict on the purity of the marriage bed — 
for, if Mr. Sickles were to be convicted, 
no man's wife or daughter would afterward 
be safe. 

On the retiring of the jury to deliberate 
as to what should be their verdict, many 
of the audience crowded around the dock 
to cheer and sup[>ort Air. Sickles, in that 
pregnant moment of his fate. Among 
them was the Rev. Dr. Sunderland, of the 
Presbyterian church, who, taking Mr. 
Sickles b^' the hand, said, substantially, 
" Sir, I have come to express to you my 
heart-felt sympathy, and to say that if the 
voice of tlie jjcople of this city could speak 
at this moment, your accjuittal would be 
instantaneous. In case, however, an ad- 
verse verdict should be rendered, be as- 
sured that you liave hearts around you, 
and mine not the least warm of them, to 
sustain you in your affliction." Mr. 
Sickles was much moved by this incident, 
and expressed his thanks as well as his 
emotion would permit him. 

Time wore on, each moment seeming an 
hour. At last the door was opened, and 
the jury came in, one by one, and ]iro- 
ceeded to take their seats in the box. All 
restraint was forgotten, in the anxiety to 
see their faces. Benches, and forms, and 
tables, were mounted by the excited and 
venturesome. .\1I ujuoar, however, sub- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



695 



sided instantly, when the judge directed 
the clerk to call the jurors' names. When 
the twelfth name was called and responded 
to, a pin might have been heard to drop. 

"Daniel E. Sickles, stand up and look 
to the jury," cried the clerk, as he broke 
the deathly stillness of the vast and anx- 
ious assembly. 

Mr. Sickles stood up. 

"How say you, gentlemen; have you 
agreed to your verdict ? " asked the clerk. 

" We have," answered the foreman. 

"How say you; do you find the pris- 
oner at the bar guilty, or not guilty ? " 
inquired the clerk. 




"Not gidltij!" was the foreman's 
prompt reply. 

As these words fell from the foreman's 
lips, there was one loud, wild, thrilling, 
tumultuous hurrah sent up by the specta- 
tors; cheer after cheer resounded in the 
court-room, and it was taken up by the 
multitude outside and repeated. Hats 
and handkerchiefs were waved, and there 
was one general rush for the dock. 

Mr. Sickles, amidst the renewed cheers 
of the assembled crowd, was taken out of 
of the dock by Captain Wiley and Mr. 
Brega, the former, one of Mr. Sickles's 
most devoted friends, kissing him at the 
moment of deliverance, and holding fast 
by him as they tried to make their way to 



the door. It was slow work, for congratu- 
lations, earnest, loud, and frankly ex- 
pressed, saluted Mr. Sickles at all points. 
Finally, by dint of much crushing and 
great exertion, a passage to the door was 
effected, and as soon as Mr. Sickles was 
recognized from the outside, the cheers 
were again taken up. 

Like wildfire, the news ran through 
every part of the city, and from every 
direction crowds were hurrying to the 
court-house. The excitement was as in- 
tense as it was instantaneous. As Mr. 
Sickles stepped down the stone stairs of 
the building, surrounded and supported by 
his immediate personal friends, he was 
enthusiastically cheered, and loud calls 
were made upon him for a speech. With 
considerable exertion, for he was fast be- 
coming faint, he was got into one of the 
numerous carriages in waiting. In the 
same carriage were Messrs. Graham, Wi- 
ley, and Brown, of New York. A move- 
ment was made by the crowd to take the 
horses out of the carriage and to draw it 
themselves, but the movement was detected 
in time and prevented. Mr. Sickles's car- 
riage was followed to the very door of his 
house, by an excited and enthusiastic 
crowd, waving their hats and handker- 
chiefs, and shouting their expressions of 

joy- 

The emotions of the counsel, when the 
jury returned their verdict, were nuxni- 
fested in various ways. Mr. Brady, in 
spite of all his experience as a criminal 
lawyer, became pale, nervous, and agi- 
tated ; Mr. Stanton, unable to repress the 
emotions of his big heart, is described as 
having almost rivaled David, when he 
danced before the ark of the tabernacle; 
the usual stolidity of Mr. Phillips gave 
way, and, covering his face with his hands, 
he wept like a child ; Messrs. Magruder, 
Ratcliffe, and Chilton, pressed forward 
and greeted their liberated client; Mr. 
Meagher, in the exuberance of his heart, 
clapped people on the back, and asked if 
it was not " glorious ; " Mr. Graham was 
passive and undemonstrative, though one 
of the first to welcome back his client to 



696 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



freedom. The district attorney said, "he 
thouf^lit it wonlil be so," and his associate, 
Mr. Carlisle, avoided the scene. As to the 
jailor, he wept freely, and could not under- 
stand Mr. Meagher wlien he condoled with 
iiini on losing his tenant. 

After all was over, nine or ten of the 
jurors went to Mr. Brady's parlor, and 
there, in the freedom of unrestrained con- 
versation, expressed their real sentiments. 
One of them said, " I want you, sir, to tell 
the people of New York, that tlie citizens 
of Washington are not behind those of any 
other part of the country in devotion to 
the family altar; " and j'et this juror was 
spoken of, all through the trial, as one who 
would prob.ably dissent from the rest. 

Another of the jurors, a j'oung man, 
brought with him his fiddle, with which 
he had been in the liabit of solacing him- 
self and his fellow-jurymen, during the long 
evenings of their seclusion, and j)layed 
several airs. He, too, had been regarded 
with suspicion, because of certain political 
antecedents. " But," remarked Mr. Brady, 
'• if we had known that he played the 
fiddle we might have made our minds easy, 
for no fiddler was ever known to find a 
conviction of murder." 

The foreman said that his only fear had 
been that his health might not last him 
throughout the trial, and that he hoped 
that his latest posterity' would honor his 
memory, from his having served on that 
jury. Another of the jury, — the wag and 
mimic among tliem, — expressing himself 
in regard to the justification of Mr. 
Sickles, said he would not for himself have 
been satisfied with a mere Derringer or 
revolver, but would have brought a how- 
itzer to bear on the seducer ! Of a some- 
what different temperament was the mem- 
ber who, on retiring from the court-room 
with his fellows, withdrew into a corner, 
and on his knees invoked divine guidance; 
got up, entered into the deliberations, 
again retired to the corner, and finally rose 
with his mind fully made up in favor of 
acquittal. 

Consistently with his oft-repeated ex- 
pressions of continued affection for his wife, 



Mr. Sickles renewed his matrimonial rela- 
tions with her, in a short time. In ex- 
planation of his course in this respect, Mr. 
Sickles said, in a published letter: "M\ 
reconciliation with my wife was my own 
act, done without consultation with any 
relative, connection, friend, or adviser. 
Whatever blame, if any, belongs to the 
step, should fall alone upon me. I am 
prepared to defend what I have done, 
before the only tribunal I recognize as 
having the slightest claim to jurisdiction 
over the subject — my own conscience and 
the bar of Heaven. I am not aware of any 
statute or code of morals which makes it 
infamous to forgive a woman : nor is it 
usual to make our domestic life a subject 
of consultation with friends, no matter 
how near and dear to us. And I cannot 
allow even all the world combined to dic- 
tate to me the repudiation of nij' wife, 
when I think it right to forgive her and 
restore her to my confidence and protec- 
tion. If I ever failed to comprehend the 
utterly desolate position of an offending 
though penitent woman — the hopeless 
future, with its dark possibilities of dan- 
ger, to which she .is doomed when pro- 
scribed as an outcast — I can now see 
plainly enough, in the almost universal 
howl of denunciation with which she is fol- 
lowed to my threshhold, the misery and 
peril from which I have rescued the 
mother of my child. And although it is 
very sad for me to incur the blame of 
friends and the reproaches of manj' wise 
and good people, I shall strive to jtrove to 
all who maj' feel an interest in me, that, if 
I am the first man who has ventured to 
sa}' to the world an erring wife and mother 
may be forgiven and redeemed, in spite of 
all the obstacles in my path, the good 
results of this example shall entitle it to 
the imitation of the generous and the com- 
mendation of the just. There are many 
who think that an act of duty, i)roceeding 
solely from affections which can only be 
comprehended in the heart of a husband 
and a father, is to be fatal to my profes- 
sional. ])olitical, and social standing. If 
this be so, then so be it." Mr. Sickles 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



697 



concludes his manly letter by asking that 
the mercy of all may be extended to the 
youthful and penitent mother of his inno- 
cent child. 

Beautiful, ruined, and sorrowing, Mrs. 
Sickles lived but a few years after the ter- 
rible tragedy. The career of Mr. Sickles, 



as a successful Union officer in the war of 
the rebellion — rising to the rank of major- 
general, for repeated bravery on the blood- 
iest battle-fields, — and as minister to the 
court of Madrid, immediateilj' following 
the flight of Queen Isabella, is well known 
to his countrymen. 



LXXXI. 

PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA.-I80O. 



Discovery of Prodigious Qaantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring of Innu- 
merable Wells. — Fabulous Prices Paid for Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Millionaires — The Supply 
of Oil E.xcceds the Wants of the Whole Country. — Immense Exportations of the Article. — Vast 
Source of National Wealth and Industry. — Revolution in Artificial Eight. — Ancient Knowledge of 
this Oil. — Floating on Ponds and Creeks — Its Collection and Use. — Native Sources : Origin. — Local- 
ity of the Springs — Great Value of the Oil. — First Attempt at Boring. — Plans for Sinking Wells. — 
Their Exhaustless Yield — Intense Excitement Prevails — Eager Crowils at the Oil Region — Buying 
and Leasing Lands. — Enterprise of the Pioneers. — Sudden Fortunes Made — Other Side of the Pic- 
ture. — Towns and Cities Built. —Fire: Awful Scenes and Losses. — Bringing the Oil into Market. — 
Its Cheapness and Excellence. — Universal Introduction. — Valuable for Various Purposes. 



' The rock poured mc out rive™ of oil."— Job. 



yV ICHER than the gold mines of California, in the qualities of 
f\ usefulness and convenience to the human race, are the oil 
wells which, so unexjiectcdly to the country 
;iud the world, spouted forth their liquid 
treasures from the bowels of the earth, in the 
year 1859, and in such quantities as soon to 
revolutioiiizo both the material and mode of 
artificial illumination, — bringing untold 
wealth into regions hitherto comparatively 
valueless, — creating, almost as if by magic, 
new, vast, and protitable industries, — and 
well-nigh realizing the wildest conceptions of 
sudden and golden fortune found in Arabian 
legends. 
But, even long prior to the year just named, the existence of this 
oleaginous substance was known at the head-waters of the Alleghany 
river in New York and I'eiiiisylvania. A writer in the American 
Cyclopedia states that the Indians collected it on the shores of Seneca 
lake, and it was sold as a medicine by the name of Seneca or Genesee oil. A stream in 
-Vilegliany county, New York, was named Oil creek, in consequence of the appearance 
i)f oil in its banks; and the same name was given to another branch of the Alleghany 
river in Venango county, Pennsylvania. Several localities are designated upon the old 
maps of this part of the country as affording oil ; and upon Oil creek in Venango 
county, two spots were particularly noted, one of wliich was close to the north line of the 
county, and one about twelve miles further down the stream. At these points, springs 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



699 



issued from the banks of the stream, bring- 
ing up more or less oil, whieh collected 
upon the surface of the water as it stood 
in the pools below the springs. The 
inhabitants were accustomed to collect the 
oil by spreading woolen cloths upon the 
water, and wringing them when saturated. 
Down the valley of this creek there are 
numerous ancient pits which appear to 
have been excavated for the purpose of 
collecting oil, but by whom made no one 
can now tell. From the fact that logs have 
been found in them notched as if with an 
axe, some have supposed that the work was 
done by the French, who occupied this 
region in the early part of the last century ; 
but others believe that the Indians, who 
are known to have valued the oil, dug the 
pits. Da}', in his history of Pennsylvania, 
gives an account of the estimation in which 
they held this j)roduct, using it mixed with 
paint to anoint themselves for war, and 
also employing it in their religious rites. 
He quotes an interesting letter from the 
commander of Fort Duquesne to General 
Montcalm, describing an assembly of the 
Indians by night on the banks of the creek, 
and in the midst of the ceremonies their 
firing the scum of oil that had collected 
upon the surface of the water. As the 
flames burst forth, illuminating the dark 
valley, there rose from the Indians around 
triumphant shouts that made the hills 
re-echo again. 

As earl}' as 1826, the knowledge that 
such a natural illuminating substance ex- 
isted on the Little Muskingum river, in 
Ohio, was quite general, on account of its 
appearance in the wells that were bored in 
that region for the purpose of obtaining 
salt. In a communication to the American 
Journal of Science for the year 1826, by 
Doctor Hildreth, he says : They have sunk 
two wells, which are now more than four 
hundred feet in depth ; one of them affords 
a very strong and pure water, but not in 
great quanti ty. The other discharges such 
vast quantities of petroleum, or, as it is 
vulgarly called, ' Seneka oil,' and beside is 
subject to such tremendous explosions of 
gas as to force out all the water and afford 



nothing but gas for several days, that they 
make but little or no salt. Nevertheless, 
the petroleum affords considerable profit, 
and is beginning to be in demand for lamps 
in workshops and manufactories. It affords 
a brisk, clear light, when burnt in this way, 
and will be a valuable article for lighting 
the street-lamps in the future cities of 
Ohio. 

So useful was the product of the oil 
springs gradually found to be, that, in 
1854, the Pennsylvania Rock Oil Company 
was formed. It is said, by a writer 
thoroughly conversant with the subject, 
and from whose well-stored pamphlet, 
"The Petroleum Region of America," 
much of the information here given is 
drawn, that this was the first oil company 
ever formed, and was also prior to the sink- 
ing of any well, and before any such thing 
was suggested. Great quantities of the 
oil had, however, been collected during the 
year 1853, by absorbing it in blankets, 
and wringing it out, — a method originated 
by Dr. F. B. Brewer, of the eminent firm 
of Brewer, Watson & Co., so conspicuous 
in their efforts to develop the wonderful 
resources of the oil region. The Pennsyl- 
vania Rock Oil Company purchased one 
hundred acres of land on Oil Creek, below 
Titusville, for the purpose of collecting 
the surface oil, but the project was in a 
short time abandoned. 

No important progress took place in the 
business until the winter of 1857, when 
Col. E. L. Drake, of Connecticut, arrived 
at Titusville, and he ivas the first man ivlio 
attempted to bore for oil. In December, 
1857, he visited Titusville, examined the 
oil springs, and gave the subject of sur- 
face oil a thorough investigation. He 
soon concluded that rock oil could be ob- 
tained by sinking a well ; and acting upon 
this, he, in company with James M. Town- 
send and E. B. Bowditch, leased the lands 
of the Pennsjlvania Rock Oil Compan}-, 
for the term of twenty-five j-ears, for the 
purpose of boring for oil. The operations 
were to commence the following spring. 
Soon after closing this lease. Colonel 
Drake and friends from Connecticut formed 



roo 



OUR FIRST CENTUK v.— 1770-1 .S7G. 



a conipanj' called the Seneca Oil Company, 
for tlie purpose of working the lands and 
sinking wells, under the management and 
control of Colonel Drake. Early in the 
spring he removed his family to Titusville, 
then containing not over one hundred and 
fifty inhabitants. He first informed him- 
self thoroughly on the subject of boring, 
and visited the salt-wells on the Alleghany 
river for that purpose, where, after some 
difficulty, he employed a man who agreed 
to sink wells for the Seneca coni])any; but 
he and others to whom he had ajiplied 
failed to keep their engagements, and it 
was not until the following spring, that lie 
could obtain a suitable person to commence 
the well. 



l3-ing along the valley of Oil Creek and 
its tributaries in Venango, Warren, and 
Crawford counties. The Drake well — tlie 
first ever sunk for oil, and the first petro- 
leum ever obtained by boring — was imme- 
diately thronged with visitors, and within 
two or three weeks thousands began to 
pour in from the neighboring states. 
Everybody was eager to purchase or lease 
oil-lands at any price demanded. Almost 
in a night, a wilderness of derricks sprang 
up and covered the entire bottom lands of 
Oil Creek. Merchants abandoned their 
storehouses, fanners dropped their ploughs, 
lawyers deserted their offices, and preach- 
ers their pulpits. The entire western 
part of the state, in especial, lit'canie so 




l-ETKOLKl'M WKI.I 

Boiiiig thriiugh forty-seven feet of 
gravel and twenty-two feet of shale rocks, 
with occasional small apertures in it, he 
struck, on the twenty-ninth of August, 
1859, at the depth of about seventy feet, 
a large ojiening, filled with coal oil, some- 
what mixed with water and gas. A small 
pump on hand brought up from four 
hundred to five hundred gallons of oil 
a day. An explosion soon blew it up. 
One of three times its size and power 
was put in its place, and during the 
first four days threw uji five thousand 
gallons of oil — one thousand two hundred 
and fifty gallons per day, or one gallon 
per minute fur twenty hours fifty minutes 
per day. 

And now commenced an intense excite- 
ment in all the oil-region of Pennsylvania, 



IN ri;NNSVL\ANIA. 

wild with excitement upon tlie subject, 
that scarcely anything else was thotight of. 
Very soon after the success of Colonel 
Drake, Messrs. Brewer, M'atson & Co. 
leased the farm of Hamilton M'CIintock, 
and commenced a well on it, which was 
successful at the depth of seventy feet ; 
then followed the sinking of many wells on 
the different farms on Oil Creek. The 
Barnsdell ISfead and Kousi' well was 
opened in the si)ring of I860; then the 
Crosley well, in April of the same year. 
During this summer, many wells were 
opened in the vicinity of Tidcoute on the 
Alleghany river. In .Tune. 1S(!1, A. B. 
Funk sunk a well four hundred and sev- 
enty feet deep, on the M'lllheny farm, 
which was the first large flowing well. 
Then followed the Brewer, AVatson & Co. 



GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



701 



well on the G. W. M'Clintock farm, the 
Phillips well on the Tarrfarm, the Willard 
well on the H. M'Clintock farm, and the 
Rouse, Mitehell, and Brown well on the 
Buchanan farm. This latter well flowed a 
stream of oil without pumping, equal to 
one thousand barrels per day. In every 
direction, new borings were undertaken, 
and new discoveries of flowing wells were 
made, almost dailj' ; while other regions of 
similar geological structure were carefully 
explored for evidence of their capacity for 
producing oil. Soon there were oil-wells, 
— either pumping or flowing, — yielding 
considerable quantities, in Western Vir- 
ginia, Kentucky, Ohio, and Canada ; and, 
subsequently, discoveries were made of the 
existence of petroleum in large quantities 
in California and in some of the north- 
western states. At first, vast quantities 
of oil flowed into the creek 
and were wasted, before suit- 
able tanks could be prepared 
to receive it; but after a 
while, the flowing wells were 
fitted w'ith strong tubing 
and stop-cocks, by means of 
which the supply was en- 
tirely controlled. 

As might well be expected, the owners 
of farms in the oil-regions believed that 
the fortune of almost unlimited wealth had 
now smiled upon them, and (says Eaton, 
in his exhaustive and invaluable work on 
the subject,) the price of lands throughout 
its whole extent, from the new well to the 
Alleghany, immediately rose to a vei-y high 
figure. Sometimes entire farms were sold, 
but generally they were leased in quite 
small lots. The terms of lease were at 
first easy, the operators giving one-fourth 
or one-fifth of the oil as a royalty to the 
owner of the soil. Gradually, the terms 
became more exacting, until not unfre- 
quently one-half and even five-eighths of 
the oil was demanded, with the addition of 
a considerable sum of money as a bonus. 
Sometimes the proprietor of the soil re- 
quired the proposed operator to furnish 
him bis share in barrels ; that is, not only 
turning him over a third or a half of the 



oil, but furnishing him the barrels to con- 
tain it. With this arrangement, it after- 
wards came about that, as the price of oil 
fell and the price of barrels advanced, the 
entire proceeds of some wells would hardly 
purchase barrels to contain the royalty 
share jjertaining to the owner of the land. 
The leasing of land for oil purposes 
amounted, at one time, to a monopolj', in 




PROCESS OF UOUIXG I'OU PETROLEUM. 

some sections of the oil vallej'. The land-- 
holders in many places were men in very 
moderate circumstances. By great fru- 
gality, thoy had been able to live comfort- 
ablj-, but had no extra means with which 
to embark in speculations. Sometimes 
they had neither taste nor energy for this 
business, or lacked faith in the general 
result, but were willing th.at others should 
embark in the business bv sharing the 



702 



OUR FIRST CENTURV.— 177G-1876. 



profits with tlieiii. In tliis state of affairs, 
shrewd and enterprising men made a busi- 
ness, for a time, of leasing all the lands in 
certain localities, with no intention of oper- 
ating themselves, but with the design of 
sub-leasing to real operators. 

In the midst of the excitement occa- 
sioned by the prodigious success of the 
Konse well, the gas and oil issuing there- 
from took fire from some unknown cause, 
and, as described b3' an unknown witness, 
columns of black smoke rolled upward into 
the air, the blazing oil leaped heavenward, 
and. falling over on all sides from the fiery 
jet, formed a magnificent fountain of liquid 
fire. The sight was awfully grand, but, 
sad to relate, involved a most melancholy 
loss of life, no lesS than nineteen human 
beings meeting their death in the flames. 
The scenes of terror and woe accompany- 
ing such a catastroj>lie can be better imag- 
ined than described. Among the victims 
of this destructive occurrence was Mr. 
Rouse, one of the proprietors of the well 
and a verj- jiromincnt man in the oil 
region. Mr. Rouse lived for several da3'8 
after being injured, and, in framing his 
will, after making certain bequests, left to 
the county of Warren a handsome sum — 
subsequently reaching one hundred and 
fifty thousand dollars in value, — to be 
applied one-half for road purposes and one- 
half to the poor of the county. 

Other terrible scenes caused by the com- 
bustion of the oil and gas in the wells, — 
of natural or accidental origin, — though 
happily not involving loss of life, have 
occurred from time to time in the oil 
regions. The phenomenon of the " burn- 
ing well" has been often described as one 
of those grand and amazing exhibitions to 
be found only witjiin the arena of nature's 
kingdom. Hefore approaching near enough 
to see the well, (says an eye witness,) the 
observer's ears were saluted with a roaring 
sound similar to that of the tJeysers in 
Iceland, and seemingly due to the rush of 
gas from the depths lielow, or from the 
tlanie itself as it rises high in the air. 
The well was of course bored for oil. It 
had reached a depth of some five hundred 



feet, when the immense column of gas 
rushed u|i and became ignited from the 
furnace of the engine. Soon, of course, 
the derrick, engine-house, and fixtures 
were consumed, and the engine itself a 
wreck. An attempt was made to fill up 
the pit with earth and extinguish the 
flames. But this proved a failure, as the 
pressure of the gas was so great that it 
rushed through the loose earth in a thou- 
sand jets, the result being that a column 
of flame constantly emerged from the pit 
equal to its size — about eight feet square ; 
this column rose to a height of from fifty 
to one hundred feet, varying every few 
seconds from the minimum to the maxi- 
mum height. The pillar, rough and jagged 
in form, and sometimes divided, sent out 
its tongues of flame in every direction. 
As it reached its greatest height, the tnj) 
of the flame leaped off and was extin- 
guished. This was the ajipearance in 
daylight. At night, the appearance was 
awfully grand and imposing. Every three 
or four seconds, a cloud of dark smoke 
rolled up with the flames, and, after being 
swept to its very summit, disappeared. 
Some visitors computed the height at one 
hundred and fifty feet. The roaring sound 
was constant, and almost resembled that 
of distant thunder. For successive weeks, 
the well continued to burn, with no ;ip])ar- 
cnt diminution in its power, or in the 
quantity of gas. At one time, the phe- 
nomenon assumed a very strange appear- 
ance. The atmosphere was somewhat 
cloudy, and, in addition to the usual ruddy 
glow, the light appeared to concentrate 
itself into a bright lance-like figure, about 
four or five degrees in length, that re- 
mained stationary about midway between 
the horizon and the zenith, where it con- 
tinued all tlie evening. Immense destruc- 
tion of oil and other property, by fire, has, 
in fact, taken jilace in almost every part of 
the petroleum region, from the very first, 
and in spite of every precaution. 

The next large flowing well that was 
opened was the Empire, in the vicinity of 
the Funk well, that flowed three thousand 
barrels of oil jier day. The Sherman well 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



703 



was opened in Ajji'il, 18G2, tlien the Noble 
and Delameter well in May, 1863. This 
celebrated well was commenced in 1860, 
and was bored to the depth of one hun- 
dred and sixty-seven feet, and then aban- 
doned. Mr. Noble went further down the 
creek and became interested in other wells 
on the Tarr farm, but in the sjiriug of 
1863 he re-commenced the work on his old 
well, and went down to the depth of four 
hundred and seventy-one feet, without, 
however, any indications of oil. At that 
depth he concluded to tube and pump, 
abandoning the idea of obtaining a flowing 
well, — but, to the great astonishment of 
himself and every one else, after pumping 
a very short time, suddenly the great 
Noble well commenced to flow. Long 
before the opening of this well, petroleum 
had become so plentj' that most of the 
pumping wells were abandoned. Every 
person wanted a flowing well. 

The discovery of a method of refining the 
crude oil is said to be due to Mr. Samuel 
M. Kier, of Pittsburg. Mr.W. H. Abbott, 
of Titusville, erected the first large refin- 
ery at Titusville, which was before the 
days of railroads in that region. The 
heavy iron castings and machinery were 
brought in wagons from Union Mills and 
Franklin, through mud that was axle-deep. 
Parties interested with him became dis- 
heartened, and would have abandoned the 
enterprise had it not been for the energy 
of Mr. Abbott, who finally succeeded in 
completing his building. But the really 
great pioneers in the introduction of petro- 
leum in large quantities, were Brewer, 
Watson & Co., whose enterprise was so 
determined and untiring, that they ex- 
pended nearly eight hundred thousand 
dollars in cash for barrels alone, before 
they realized one cent of jjrofit. All they 
required was the actual cost of the barrel. 
They however ultimately reajjed a rich 
harvest from their arduous efforts in this 
new field of business, and were handsomely 
repaid for the hardships and trials through 
which thej' had passed. During the sum- 
mer of 1861^ Samuel Downer, of Boston, 
established a branch of his works and com- 



menced the refining of oil at Corry, giving 
his entire attention to the business, and 
during that year his refinery absorbed 
nearly all of the oil product. George M. 
Mowbra^', agent for Scheifflin & Co., of 
New York, made the first extensive pur- 
chase of j)etroleum for shipment. Messrs. 
Drake, Watson, Brewer, Kier, Abbott, 
Mowbraj', Downer, the firm of Brewer, 
Watson & Co., and others, exerted their 
utmost endeavors to acquaint the public 
with the value of the article, and to create 
a demand equal to the supply ; but before 
this could be accomplished, oil at the wells 
was offered for sale at prices ranging from 
ten to fifty cents a barrel. 

In consequence of the abundant supply 
of the oil, its cheapness, and the continued 
small demand, the entire oil regions of 
Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Ohio became, 
for a while, almost wholly deserted, and 
the then so-called " oil bubble " exploded. 
Most of those who had taken leases and 
had opened wells, now removed the tubing, 
sold their engines, tools, etc., and retired 
from the oil trade disgusted with their 
enterjjrise, and, no doubt, much displeased 
with themselves, returned to their deserted 
homes to be ridiculed by the knowing 
ones, who " alwaj's said the undertaking 
would prove a failure." 

Much time, however, did not elapse 
before a new demand for petroleum was 
created, and once more thousands poured 
into the oil i-egions, and ultimately the 
use of petroleum became almost universal, 
as a cheap and excellent oil for burning. 
So vast did the business now become, that, 
from the third of March, 1865, to the close 
of that year, the quantity of crude petro- 
leum produced in the Venango county 
region was 1,020,126 barrels ; in western 
Virginia, 13,666; in Ohio, 10,676; in 
Kentucky, 2,405. The trade involved in 
this immense production became the most 
important business of several cities in 
Penn.sylvania, Ohio, and New York, af- 
foriling employment and support for tens 
of thousands of people. 

An immense export trade soon began, 
amounting, in 1863, to 252,000 tons' 



704 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



f 




^.\»*^i;-**>; 



BUBKINO OF OSE OF TUE Oltl-.Vl UIL « i;LL3. 



weight, or 28,000,000 gallons, valued at 
$12,000,000, and employing no less than 
252 vessels of one thousand tons burden. 
Of course, many hitherto coniparatively 
poor persons became millionaires all of a 
sudden, and of these, "some were wise and 
some foolish," in the use of their wealth. 

An illustration of the latter class was 
that of a widow, whose farm proved to be 
oue of the earliest and best for the produc- 
tion of oil. in the whole county of Venango, 
several wells with products ranging from 
two hundred to twenty-five hundred bar- 
rels per day being struck at intervals, and 
the income in money from the territory 
])roving almost fabulous in amount. The 
old lady did not live long to enjoy her 
good fortune, and, dying, left her great 
property, without any reservation, to her 
adopted son John, then about twenty years 
ol<l. This youth, — like the hero of that 
well-known novel, " Half a ^lillion of 
Money," who came suddenly into posses- 
sion of a like sum, — had not been taught 
to understand the value of dollars and 
cents ; and, unlike that character, he had 



no refined tastes, and threw his wealth 
away with the most lavish folly. Of 
course he rushed to New York ; and there. 
in only a year and a half, he scjuaiidered 
two millions of dollars. Presumably the 
most ingenious extravagance was neces- 
sary to accomplish this enormous result. 
" Johnny," as his associates called liim, 
not only entered into every species of 
debauchery, not only lost a hundred thou- 
sand dollars in two nights at faro, but 
bought superb teams and gave them away 
after an hour's ownership, supported a 
swarm of human leeches of both sexes, and 
even e<iuip[)ed a negro-minstrel troupe, 
presenting each member with a, costly dia- 
mond ring and pin. By-and-bv, however, 
Johnny's brilliant career came to a close, 
and, oddly enough, he was glad at last to 
fill the position of door-keeper to the trav- 
eling minstrel company which his own 
munificence had organized, — his farm on 
Oil Creek having been disposed of at public 
sale, for arrears due the government. 

Time and space would indeed fail to 
adequately record the doings of those sham 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



705 



and reckless companies, which, availing 
themselves of the oleaginous fever and a 
credulous public, involved themselves and 
others in operations well-nigh ruinous. 
One of these companies selected a site in 
the woods, which had been " prospected " 
by one of their number and highly recom- 
mended (located about six miles from a 
railroad station laid down on the map, but 
not j'et built), and having organized, 
agreed to have the first of a series of pro- 
posed wells dug, not by contract, as was 
usual, but by day's work. Having procured 
the necessary tools, including a compass for 
guidance in the woods, the work was duly 
proceeded with, and progress from time to 
time reported. Calls for the "sinews" 
were also made, and promptly met, until 
the well was said to be down over one 
liundred feet, with a good show for oil. 
This was about the time for the "Annual 
Meeting," and more money being called 
for it was deemed advisable to have the 
well re-measured and reported on. Judge 
of the surprise of the stockholders when, 
to use the language of one of the patri- 
archs in oil, the force of the oil from he- 
low had shoved the hole iij) to eiglity-six 
feet! Here was a stunner; and, as the 
well had already cost a good round sum, 
and the resources of the company were 
limited, matters continued to remain in 
statu quo. The most plausible plan for 
getting out of the diflSculty was that which 
proposed to have the balance of the hole 
taken up and cut into lengths for pump 
logs ! — a fair hit at many of the chimerical 
oil projects of that day. 

Various opinions are entertained as to 
the origin and source of this remarkable 
substance. According to Professor Silli- 
man, it is of vegetable origin, and was pro- 
duced by the agency of subterranean heat. 
Professor Dana says that it is a bitumin- 
ous liquid resulting from the decomposi- 
tion of marine or land plants, mainly the 
latter, and perhaps, also, of some non-nitro- 
genous animal tissues. By many, it is 
supposed to be a product of coal ; some 
suj)posing that the coal, being subjected 
to the enormous pressure of the overlying 
45 



beds, has yielded oil, as a linseed cake under 
an hydraulic press. The theory has even 
been advanced, that the coal, heated (as it 
evidently has been in the coal regions of 
eastern Pennsylvania), gave off oily vapors 
which, rising to the cold region of the 
upper air, condensed, and subsequently 
fell in oily showers, making its way as 
best it could to the hollows of the earth's 
interior, where now 'it is found by the oil- 
borer. 

An extensive survey and examination of 
the coal region by Mr. Ridgewaj', an emi- 
nent geologist, convinced him that the 
petroleum was not produced from the coal 
fields, as in that case it would have had to 
flow up-hill into the oil basin; it is, rather, 
the result of the decomposition of marine 
plants, in the Oil Creek valley, though 
that found in bituminous coal basins, orig- 
inates, no doubt, from beds of coal. Ac- 
cording to this theory, the plants which 
produced the oil in the rock existed and 
flourished at a long period of time before 
the vegetation which now forms coal beds ; 
they are unlike the vegetable impressions 
found in the accompanj-ing shales and 
claj's associated with beds of coal, and they 
grew where the flag-stones and shales of 
Oil Creek were laid down by salt water 
currents. The climate was so hot, during 
this age of marine vegetation, and the 
growth of plants so rapid and rank, caused 
by the supposed large amount of carbonic 
acid and hydrogen then composing the 
atmosphere, that these conditions on the 
face of the earth produced plants contain- 
ing more hydrogen and less carbon than 
the plants which produced coal beds, and 
hence their fermentation resulted in petro- 
leum. 

But the theory that the oil was pro- 
duced at the time of the original bitumin- 
ization of the animal or vegetable matter, 
has many difficulties in its wa\', especially 
the fact that such large quantities of 
inflammable gas always accompany the oil. 
That the oil is a product, not of coal, but 
of coral, is the opinion of some ; and thus, 
stored away in cells, forming, in the ag- 
gregate, immense reefs, as it was collected 



i06 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



from tlie impure waters of the early oceans 
by minute coral insects, it has been driven 
by heat and pressure into reservoirs and 
crevices, where man's ingenuity at last 
discovered it. 

Of the uses of petroleum, much might 
be said. Unrivaled and universal for illu- 
mination, it is also valuable as a lubrica- 
tor, and, in some of its chemically prepared 
states, is employed as a dryer in paints 



and varnishes. For fuel and gas its util- 
ity has been amply proved. Medically, it 
has been found efficacious in suppurating 
wounds, also in headache, toothuchi', swell- 
ings, rheumatism, dislocations, and as a 
disinfectant. And even as a base in the 
production of colors, some of the most 
gratifying results have followed the chem- 
ist's experiments with this wonderful ar- 
ticle. 



LXXXII, 



FATAL DUEL BETWEEN HON. D. C 

HON. D. S. TEERY.— 1859 



BRODERICK, AND 



Scene of the Meeting Near San Francisco. — Details of the Barbarous Encounter. — Broderick Falls 
Slortally Wounded by His Adversary. — He expires in Two Days. — Flight of Terry. — Society 
Shocked at the Event. — Parallel Case of Messrs. Graves and Cilley. — Politics and Dueling in Amer- 
ica. — Broderick's Alleged Offense. — Terry's Challenge Accepted. — Terms of the Duel. — Choice of 
Seconds and Arms. — Aspect of the Two Men. — Serious Bearing of Broderick. — Terry's Fearlessness. 
— Marking the Distance. — Its Murderous Shortness. — The Duelists Placed — Their Persons Exam- 
ined. — " Gentlemen, are you Ready?" — The Word Given. — Both Parties Fire. — Broderick Shot in 
the Breast. — Last Sufferings and End. — Sorrow of the Community. — His Body Lies in State. — A 
Similar Deed of Horror. — Congressional Tragedy in 1838. — Its Deadly Character. 



" When riuhlic opinion is renovated, and chastened by reason, r<.-ligion, and humonity, the practice of dueling will at once be discounte- 
nanced."— IIlmcy Clax. 








THE SPOT WHEltE BRODERICK FELL. 






Q^!^ THE SPOT WHERE BRODERICK FELL. ^.V t- , 'ti^'.-O 

OLITICAL animosities among leading public men in the 
United States ha%'e, in a multitude of instances, led to premeditated liostile meetings, 
and these have not unfrequently resulted in the death of one or both of the combat- 
ants. But rarely, since the tragical encounter between Messrs. Cilley and Graves, 
in 1838, had society been so shocked as at the announcement that, on the thirteenth 
of September, 1859, a duel was fought near San Francisco, between Hon. David 
C. Broderick, United States Senator from California, and Hon. D. S. Terry, chief 
justice of that state, in which Senator Broderick received a mortal wound, his death 
occurring two days after. In the present lamentable case, the challenge proceeded 
from Judge Terry, who, on the eighth of September, addressed a note to Senator 
Broderick, as follows : 

" Some two months since, at the public table of the International Hotel in San Fran- 
cisco, 3-ou saw fit to indulge in certain remarks concerning me, which were offensive 
in their nature. Before I had lieard of the circumstance, your note of the 29tli of 
June, addressed to Mr. D. W. Perley, in which you declared that you would not respond 
to any call of a personal character during the political canvas just concluded, had been 
published. I have, therefore, not been permitted to take anj^ notice of those remarks 



708 



OUK FIUST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



until the expiration of the limit fixed by 
yourself. I now take the earliest oppor- 
tunity to require of you a retraction of 
those remarks. This note will be handed 
to you by my friend, Calhoun Benhani, 
Esq., who is acquainted with its contents, 
and will receive your reply." 

The correspondence to which thi.s com- 
munication g:ivc rise, finally led to an 
agreement for a hosti'e meeting between 
the distinguished parties, the terms of the 
duel, as arranged by the seconds of the 
respective gentlemen, being as follows : 

1. Principals to be attended by two 
seconds and surgeon each, also by a person 
to load the weapons. This article not to 
exclude the drivers of the vehicles. If 
other parties obtrude, the time and place 
niaj' be changed at the instance of either 
party. 

2. Place of meeting, on the farm adjoin- 
ing the Lake House ranch. This is the 
general neighborhood ; the precise spot to 
be determined when tlie j)arties meet. 

3. ^Veapons — dueling pistols. 

4. Distance, ten paces ; parties facing 
each other; pistols to be held with the 
muzzle vertically downward. 

5. Wonl to be given as follows, to wit : 
The iiKjuiry shall first be made, "Gentle- 
men, are you ready ? " Upon each party 
replying "ready," the word "fire" shall 
be given, to be followed by the words 
"one, two." Neither part^' to raise his 
pistol before the word "fire," nor to dis- 
charge it after the word " two." The 
intervals between the words, " Fire — one, 
two," to be exemplified by the party win- 
ning the word as near as may be. 

6. The weapons to be loaded on the 
ground, in the presence of a second of 
each party. 

7. Choice of position and the giving of 
the word to be determined by chance — 
throwing up a coin, as usual. 

8. Choice of the two weapons to be 
determined by chance, as in article 7th. 

9. Choice of the respective weaj)ons of 
parties to be determined on the ground, 
by throwing up a coin, as usual — that is 
to say, each party bringing their pistols, 



and the pair to be used to be determined 
by chance, as in article 7th. 

The meeting took place, as appointed, 
on Monday, September 12th, at half-past 
five o'clock in the morning, but the police 
interfered and arrested the jirincipals. 

Next morning, however, the l.'itli, the 
parties met in the vicinity of San Fran- 
cisco, unbeknown to the police. Terry 
was seconded by Calhoun Benham and 
Thomas Hayes. Broderick was seconded 
by the Hon. Joseph ilcKibben, member 
of congress from California, and by another 
gentleman. 

Wlien all hands arrived on the ground, 
about seventy hands were found to be 
present, including the principals. Terry's 
seconds and advisors were constant!}' with 
him, and he conversed with his friend 
Brooks in quite a lively tone. On the other 
hand, Broderick seemed to be absorbed 
in matters disconnected with the issue, and 
was talking earnestly with a couple of liis 
friends. During this time, Broderick 
maintained himself coi.l and self-possessed; 
but his antagonist seemed agitated, and 
measured the ground in his direction with 
an uneasy and anxious tread. The seconds 
apiiroached the armorer, examined the 
weajMns, turned several times, and pointed 
to the white marks that had been placed 
on the field to establish the distance. 
McKibben, in examining tlie pistols, 
snapped a cap with an air of satisfaction, 
as if the pistol suited him. Some conver- 
sation was had ; one of Terry's friends 
approached him and made some remark, 
in rejily to which Terry seemed to smile, 
and became more calm than before. As 
the affair was now reaching the crisis, 
every eye was turned on the combatants. 

Mt. Broderick's friends had a short and 
earnest conversation, and retired. The 
friends of Terry did the same with him, 
and moved to one side. An official expres- 
sion now notified the combatants to take 
their relative positions. The distance was 
marked white, and appeared to an observer 
murderously close, — more than one man 
present uttering the ejaculation that it 
was downright murder to allow men to 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



709 



slioot at each other at so short a distance. 
The principals, however, took their posi- 
tions. Broderick divested himself first of 
a dark-brown paletot, and cast his eye 
along the ground separating him from 
Terry. 

A close observation of the countenances 
of the two combatants, at this moment, 
revealed in a striking manner their indi- 
vidual characteristics. Judge Terry's lips 
were compressed, his countenance darkly 
sallow, and his whole appearance betrayed 
that of a man without fear and regardless 
of the consequences involved in so grave 
a transaction. Wan and attenuated, he 
stood a stolid monument on the field of 
conflict. Senator Broderick could not 
have been distinguished by the stranger 
as a principal. With his hands folded 
behind him, he held earnest conversation 
with his friend, Mr. Haskell. He would 
occasionally turn, scan the crowd, and rest 
his ej'e upon some recognized countenance. 
The muscles of his face were strong, and 
his visage unrelaxed in any particular. 
His lips, when not conversing, were com- 
pressed, and his whole bearing was that of 
a man who was about to meet a great 
issue, and who was firmly jsrepared for it. 

Messrs. Broderick and Terry being 
divested of their overcoats, were told to 
take a vertical position by Mr. Benham. 
The seconds then arranged upon the 
weapons, and Mr. Benham, taking a pistol, 
proceeded to Judge Terry, and placed it 
in his hand. The latter took the pistol 
in his left hand, passed it behind him, 
connected both hands, stood for a moment 
in that position, and then rested his 
weapon on his left hand in front. Senator 
Broderick, on being handed the pistol, 
anxiously examined it, and at intervals 
measured with his eye the ground between 
himself and his adversary. He seemed to 
take much pains in examining the Weapon. 
At length he braced himself up and took 
his position. A frock coat which he wore 
seemed to trouble him somewhat, and he 
endeavored more than once to bring the 
front tails closer. Judge Terry, in the 
meantime, with the barrel of his pistol 



resting on his left arm, held his eyes fixed 
on the figure of his antagonist. 

Before the word was given, Mr. Benham 
approached Senator Broderick, who had 
handed his watch, money, etc., to Mr. 
MeKibben, and felt his clothes and exam- 
ined with his hands the body of the prin- 
cipal. A nod of satisfaction showed that 
he had found nothing concealed beneath 
his vestments. Mr. MeKibben then went 
toward Judge Terry. The latter handed 
to his second, Mr. Benham, a watch, 
pocket articles, and a quantity of money. 
Mr. Benham took the watch in charge, 
but the monej', with a flourish, he scattered 
over the ground. Mr. MeKibben then 
examined the person of Judge Terry, 




HON. D. 0. BRODERICK. 



expressed himself satisfied, and took a 
position to the right of Senator Broderick 
and immediately opposite Mr. Colton. 
The seconds of Judge Terry occupied sim- 
ilar positions, with Mr. Benham on a line 
with Mr. MeKibben, and Mr. Hayes on a 
line with Mr. Colton, all the parties form- 
ing a sextangle. 

At precisely fifteen minutes to seven 
o'clock, as the sun was endeavoring to 
force his beams through a succession of 
clouds that were passing north and south 
over the head of Senator Broderick, — the 
solemn moment, on which all were satis- 
fied a life depended, — Mr. Benham gave a 
rapid glance toward the sky, detected 
something to the disadvantage of his 
principal, and approached Judge Terry. 
The latter, who wore a large, rather stiff- 
brimmed wool hat, had drawn the front 
over his eyes. After his second, however, 
had caught his ear, the front was turned 



'10 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



up. Mr. Colton, then, in a clear, distinct 
voice, called out the word He made con- 
siderable pause between each announce- 
ment — a pause, in respect to time, resem- 
bling th.at which elapses between the 
strokes of a cathedral clock bell. 

When Mr. Colton asked, " Gentlemen, 
are i/ou ready?" Judge Terry instantl}' 
replied, " Jieadi/," without moving from 
his position, or relaxing a muscle. Sen- 
ator Broderick, however, spent several 
seconds examining the stock of his pistol, 
which did not seem to fit his hand. When 
at length he answered, " lifrifli/,'' he did 
80 with a gesture, nodding his head and 
inclining his body toward Mr. Colton. 
Between the words, "Fire — one — two," 
both parties shot. Broderick fired first, 
and at about the last enunciation required 
to convey the word " One.'' Terry shot 
in a space of time afterward which it 
would require in music to a quaver. The 
word " Two,'' was scarcely started upon 
when the judge fired. The senators 
shot was spent in the grouml, some four 
or five feet in advance of his right toes. 
Judge Terry's took effect in the senator's 
right breast, above the nipple. 

Immediately upon receiving his antago- 
nist's fire, Broderick raised his right arm, 
still grasping the pistol. It was the 
impression that he liad been shot in the 
shoulder. His arm contracted, and a spas- 
modic effort was made to brace himself 
up. The leaden messenger, however, had 
gone to a more sensitive and vital part. 
After endeavoring to summon the will to 
resist the pressure that was bearing him 
down, the head dropped in a rerumbent 
position over the right shoulder, the knees 
bent outwardly, and at length, gently and 
calmly as a child retiring to rest. Senator 
]5roderick eased to the earth, pressing the 
right breast with the hand still holding 
the pistol, and lying on his left side. 

Judge Terry, in the meantime, main- 
tained his position, keeping his eye con- 
stantly in the direction of the f.iUen man. 
In a few minutes, he was told that his 
antagonist could not rise, and he there- 
upon left the field with his immediate 



friends. He drove rapidly into town, and 
started at once from North Beach, where 
a boat was in waiting, and proceeded to 
Oakland, where he took a private convey- 
ance to Martinez, and thence was ferried 
across to Benicia. Both in Martinez and 
the latter place, flags were raised at half- 
mast, caused by premature reports of 
Broderick's death. On arriving at Beni- 
cia, Judge Terry took overland convey- 
ance to Sacramento. 

Senator Broderick was taken to the 
house of his friend, Leonida.o Haskell, 
Esq., at Black Point, nearly two miles from 
the plaza, and was seated in a bed with his 
face toward the bay, and propped up with 
pillows. Here, physicians attended on 
I him during the day, and hundreds of the 
I senator's friends hurried out to learn the 
worst. There appeared little likelihood of 
his recovering. He was able to speak dur- 
ing the afternoon, but, owing to the wound- 
ing of his lungs, the articulation was gen- 
erally indistinct and unintelligible. The 
internal bleeding caused him intense pain 
and a suffocating sensation. 

On the 15th, at about half-past eight 
o'clock in the morning, Broderiik breathed 
his last. At twelve o'clock the night pre- 
vious, the indications appeared favorable 
for his recover}', — his rejiose being easier, 
his breathing more regular, and his gen- 
eral condition improved. At two o'clock, 
in the morning, a change occurred for the 
worse, and from that hour he failed rapidly. 
At three o'clock, the last rites of the 
Roman Catholic Church were adminis- 
tered to him. At four o'clock, he had 
fallen into a state of insensibility', from 
which he never emerged. He never 
uttered a word after four o'clock. 

On the following Saturday, the lower 
part of the Union Hotel was thrown open 
to the public, and all day a vast concourse 
thronged in to view the body of the 
deceased senator, as it lay in state. The 
corpse was placed in a metallic coffin, in 
the inner aj)artmcnt of the hotel, the 
approach to which was hung with Ameri- 
can flags. The outside of the building 
was draped with habiliments of woe, and 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS, 




THE IiOD\ itl~ srNATOIt BRODERICK 

everj- face wore that unmistakable expres- 
sion which denotes that some public 
calamity has fallen upon the community. 
The coffin was so placed that the moving 
throng could file past and around it and 
out through another door. The hands of 
friends had wrought wreaths and bouquets 
of flowers, with which the coffin was 
loaded, and so numerous at last did these 
become, that, no room being found for 
them, they were placed on the floor about 
the bier. The corpse was dressed in a 
suit of black, with collar and neckcloth, 
the hands lying along the sides, crossed 
upon the body. The face was somewhat 
shrunken, probably from the intense pain 
which the sufferer had undergone during 
the previous three days. It wore, how- 
ever, the same expression as in life, and 
the senator might almost have been sup- 
posed to be in a deep sleep, so calm and 
natural was the appearance of the face. 
All day long, the crowd pressed in — men, 
women, and children ; slowly they passed 
round, lingering at the coffin, and gazing 
with grief and reverence upon the last 
spectacle. 

An eloquent funeral oration was pro- 



LYIKG IN STATE, IN SAN FRANCISCO. 

nounced by Col. E. D. Baker, in which 
the speaker narrated his last conversation 
with Senator Broderiek, as follows : 

"When he returned from that fatal 
field, while the dark wing of the arch- 
angel of death was casting its shadows 
upon his brow, his greatest anxietj- was 
as to the performance of his duty. He 
felt that all his strength and all his life 
belonged to the cause to which he had 
devoted them. ' Baker,' said he — and to 
me they were his last words — 'Balder, 
ivhen J ivas struch, I tried to stand firm , 
lilt the lloiu blinded me and I could not.' 
I trust that it is no shame to my manhood, 
that tears blinded me as he said it. Of 
his last hours I have no heart to speak. 
He was the last of his race ; there was no 
kindred hand to smooth his couch or wipe 
the death-damps from his brow ; but 
around that dying bed strong men, the 
friends of early manhood, the devoted 
adherents of later life, bowed in irrepres- 
sible grief, and ' lifted up their voices and 
wept.' " 

Such was the end of a popular senator 
from one of the most powerful of the new 
states in the Union. He represented the 



712 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 



party in sympathy witli tlie Vigilance 
Committee, and of free soil ami free labor. 
Outspoken in his views, he naturally made 
political enemies, and such was the hostile 
determination with which he was pursued, 
that, even hud he escaped iinharuied in 
his encounter with Terry, there were 
others readv and waiting to summon him 
to " the last resort,"' and his fate seemed 
inevitable. In this respect, his case pre- 
sents a striking resemblance to the deadly 
tragedy in which Hon. Jonathan Cillev, 
of Maine, lost his life at the hands of 
Hon. W. J. Graves, of Kentucky, in a 
duel fought between them, February- 24, 
183S. Both parties were members of 
congres.s, and the horrors of the affair 
almost stagger belief. 

Mr. Cillev, in debate in the house, had 
made some reflections on the character of 
Mr. J. W. "Webb, editor of the New York 
Courier and Enquirer, and the latter there- 
upon sent a note by his friend, Mr. 
Graves, demanding an explanation. Mr. 
Cilley declined to receive the note, choos- 
ing not to be drawn into any controversy 
with Webb, but at the same time express- 
ing his high respect for Mr. Graves. 
According, however, to the duelist's hair- 
line theory of honor, Mr. Cille3-'s refusal 
to receive the note from Mr. Graves, was 
an implied reflection upon the latter, and, 
after some farther correspondence, Graves 
sent a challenge to Cille}', by the hand of 
Henry A. AVise, which Cilley accepted. 

The parties met, by arrangement, on 
the road to JLirlborough, in Jlaryland. 
Mr. Cilley was accompanied by his second, 
Mr. Jones; by Mr. Bynuin and Colonel 
Scliauniburg, as his friends ; and by Doc- 
tor Duncan, as his surgeon. Mr. Graves 
was attended by Mr. "Wise, as his second; 
by Senator Crittenden and Mr. Jlenefee, 
as his friends; and by Doctor Foltz, as 
liis surgeon. Jlr. Jones and Mr. "Wise 
immediately marked off the ground. The 
line of fire was at right angles with the 
rays of the sun. The choice of positions 
fell by lot to Mr. Wise, and 'Mr. Jones 
had the giving of the word. Mr. Wise 
chose the position at the north-westerly 



end of the line. The di.stance was about 
ninety-two yards. There was a strong 
wind falling on the line of fire at an 
angle of about forty-five degrees against 
Mr. Cilley. 

Mr. Graves's position was near a wood, 
partly sheltered by it, and that of Mr. 
Cilley was on higher ground, and in the 
open fields. The caliber of Mr. Graves's 
rifle was nearly twice as large as that of 
Mr. Cilley's, and would receive a ball of 
about eighty to the pound, while the rifle 
of Mr. Cilley would receive a ball of about 
one hundred and thirty-two to the pound. 
Mr. Wise had two rifles on the ground, 
one of which, not being loaded, remained, 
by consent, in one of the carriages. 
Shortly after three o'clock, the parties 
exchanged shots. ^Ir. Cilley fired first, 
before he had fully elevated his piece; 
and Mr. Graves one or two seconds after- 
wards. Both missed. 

A consultation now took place between 
the friends of the principals, as to 
whether an accommodation might not be 
arrived at, but Mr. Graves still insisted 
upon the demand made by him vipon Mr. 
Cilley, and the latter re-asserted his posi- 
tion in the matter from the very first, 
namel}', that he declined to receive the 
note of Webb because he chose to be 
drawn into no controversy with him — 
that he al.so refused to disclaim any per- 
sonal exception to Webb as a gentleman 
or man of honor, because he would neither 
affirm nor deny anything in regard to 
his character — and that, in declining to 
receive the demand of explanation, he had 
intended no disresjiect to Mr. Graves. 

Under these circumstances, the chal- 
lenge was renewed, the j)arties resumed 
their positions, and again exchanged shots. 
Mr. Graves fired first, before he ha<l fully 
elevated his piece ; Mr. Cilley fired about 
two seconds afterwards. They both missed. 
It was at first thought by several of those 
present, that Mr. Graves was hit — his 
motions and appearance giving this impres- 
sion. But he at once said, " I must have 
another shot," — and this he positively, 
peremptorily, and repeatedly- insisted upon. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



713 



The seconds and friends again con- 
sulted. Several of them objected, in the 
strongest language, against the further 
prosecution of the contest, insisting that 
it should now cease, and that Mr. Graves 
should declare himself satisfied. Others, 
however, particularly Messrs. Wise and 
Menefee, insisted that the fight should go 
on, unless Mr. Cilley would make the con- 
cessions demanded, namely, either a direct 
disavowal of any personal exception to 
Webb as a gentleman and a man of honor 
— or, an indirect disclaimer, by basing 
his refusal to receive Webb's note upon 
the ground of constitutional exemption, as 
a member of the house, from being called 
to account for words spoken in debate. 
Mr. Cilley still refused to yield his pre- 
rogative of declining to receive a note 
from Mr. Webb, if he saw fit. 

Immediately previous to the last ex- 
change of shots, Mr. Wise said to Mr. 
Jones, "If this matter is not terminated 
by this shot, and is not settled, I will pro- 
pose to shorten the distance." To tjiis Mr. 
Jones replied, " After this shot, without 
effect, I will entertain the proposition." 
Mr. Graves had directed Mr. Wise, if they 
missed repeatedly, to prevent a prolonga- 
tion of the affair by proposing closer 
quarters; and in consequence of this, Mr. 
Wise made tlie proposition, which would 
have aggravated the severity of the terms, 
and made the barbarous encounter still 
more a disgrace to the land. 

Again the blood-thir.stiness of " chival- 
rous honor " demands a victim. The 
rifles being loaded,- the parties resumed 
their stations, and fired the third time, 
very nearly together. Mr. Cilley was 
shot through the body. He dropped his 
rifle, beckoned to one near him, and sim- 
ply uttered the words, " I am shot,'" — 
immediately put both his hands to his 
wound, fell, and in two or three minutes 
expired. 

It appears from the report made by the 
committee of seven appointed by the 
house of representatives to investigate 
this affair, that, early in the day on which 
Mr. Cilley met his unfortunate end, an 



agreement was entered into between James 
Watson Webb, Daniel Jackson, and Wil- 
liam H. Morell, to arm themselves, repair 
to the room of Mr. Cilley, and force him 
to fight Webb with pistols on the spot, 
or to pledge his word of honor to give 
Webb a meeting before he did Graves ; 
and if Mr. Cilley would do neither, to 
shatter his rir/ht arm. 

They accordingly took measures to 
ascertain whether Mr. Cilley was at his 
lodgings, and finding that he was not, they 
l^roceeded, well armed, to Bladensburg, 
where it was said the duel between Mr. 
Cilley and Mr. Graves was to take place. 
Before arriving there, it was agreed 
between Webb, Jackson, and Morell, that 
W^ebb should approach Mr. Cilley, claim 
the quarrel, insist on fighting him, and 
assure him if he aimed his rifle at Mr. 
Graves, he (Webb) would shoot him (Mr. 
Cilley) on the spot. It was supposed by 
them that Mr. Graves, or Mr. Wise, or 
some of the party, would raise a weapon 
at Webb, whereupon it was agreed that 
Webb .should instantly shoot Mr. Cilley, 
and that they should then defend them- 
selves in the best way they could. 

Not finding the Graves and Cille3' party 
at Bladensburg, Webb and his comrades 
followed in pursuit to the old magazine, 
and thence to the shore of the Potomac, 
near the arsenal, at Greenleaf Point, 
whence, it being after three o'clock in 
the afternoon, they returned to the city to 
await the result of the duel. " It is 
unnecessary to add," say they, in a state- 
ment drawn up by Webb, signed by Jack- 
son and Morell, and published in the New 
York Courier and Enquirer, " what would 
have been the course of Colonel Webb, if 
Mr. Graves, instead of Mr. Cilley, had 
been injured. Suffice it to say, that it 
was sanctioned by us ; and however much 
we deplore it, we could not doubt but the 
extraordinary position in which he would 
have been placed would have warranted 
the course determined upon." It is diffi- 
cult to imagine what is here darkly shad- 
owed forth, if it be not that, had Mr. 
Cilley survived the encounter with Mr. 



714 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Graves, and had the latter suffered in it, 
it would then have been the fate of Mr. 
Cillei/ to hare encountered an assitssin. 

So atrocious was the course pursued by 
the powerful combination aguiust Mr. 
Cilley, th.it the report of the congressional 
committee, composed of members of both 
political parties, pronounced it to be with- 
out an^' circumstance of extenuation. 
Reciting the facts involved, the committee 
state that, on the 12th of February, Mr. 
Wise, of Virginia, presented to the house 
a publication in the New York Courier 
and Enquirer, charging a member of con- 
gress with corruption on the mere authority 
of an anonymous writer under the signa- 
ture of the 'Spy in Washington,' and 
thereupon moved a resolution for the 
appointm,>nt of a select committee, with 
power to send for persons and papers to 
inquire into the charge. Mr. Wise said : 
"The character of the autliority upon 
which the charge is made is vouched for 
as respectable and authentic by the editor 
of the Courier and Enquirer, in whose 
paper it appears, and the liouse is called 
upon to defend its honor and dignity 
against the charge." Mr. Cilley opposed 
the resolution, and in the course of the 
debate said : 

'He knew nothing of this editor; but 
if it was the same editor who ouce made 



grave charges against an institution of 
this country, and afterward was said to 
have received facilities to the amount of 
$52,000 from the same institution, and 
then gave it his hearty support, he did 
not think his charges were entitled to 
much credit in an American congress.' 

These words, spoken by Mr. Cilley in 
debate, were strictly in order, were perti- 
nent to the subject under discussion, and 
did not exceed the bounds and limits of 
his place and duty; and though they 
implicated a doubt inconsistent with un- 
blemished lionor and character in the 
person alluded to, yet Mr. Cilley was 
justified in the use of them by a report of 
a committee of the house, appointed 
March 14, 1832, to inspect the books 
and examine into the proceedings of tlie 
Bank of the United States. In the 
majority report of this committee, it is 
stated that, for sixteen months, the Xew 
York Courier and Enquirer was warmly 
opposed to the Bank of the United States ; 
tliat on the 2Gth of March. 1831, and 
within less than nine months thereafter, 
the bank made three loans, amounting to 
the sum of $52,975, which consisted of 
notes drawn and indorsed by the editors 
only ; and that on or about the 8th of April, 
1831, said paper changed its course in 
favor of the bank. 



LXXXIII. 

JOHN BROWN'S CAPTURE OF HARPER'S FERRY; 

VA.— 1859. 



Seizure and Occupation of tlie United States Armory. — A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves — Attacked 
by the Militia, lie Ketreats to the Engine House and Makes it His Fortress. — The Building is Sur- 
rounded hy Federal Troops and Forced by a Battering Kara — Brown, Refusing to Surrender, is 
Overpowered and Made Prisoner. — His Genuine Heroism on the Scaffold — A Long Cherished Plan. 
— Conference Held in Canada — Programme of Operations. — Harper's Ferry the Strategic Point. — 
First Active Movement at Night — Only Twenty-two -Men in Force — The Town in Brown's Posses- 
sion — Strange Scenes at I'aybreak — Indescribable Consternation — Fighting and Bloodshed. — News 
of the Attack Sent Off — Military ("ompanies Pour in — Marines Sent from Washington — No Mercy 
Shown the Insurgents. — Brown is Terribly Wounded — His Indomitable Fortitude. — Tried for Trea- 
son and Murder — Conviction : Speech in Court — Admiration of Him by His Foes. — Walks Fearless 
to the Gallows. — Mounts the Fatal Platform — " I am Ready at any Time ! " 



" Brown is as brave a man 09 over headed on insurrection. He is the farthest possible remove from the ordinary rotEon. fanatic, or mad- 
man."— Govkk.vok Wise, of Vikqinia. 



»Y 



'N/'EARNIXG for an opportunity to carrj- out hi.s long cherished desire to lib- 
erate the negroes of the south and desti'oy the system of American slavery, 
' Captain John Brown — or ''old Osawatomie Brown," as he was famil- 

iarlj' called, on account of his active participation in the battle fought 
at Osawatomie, Kansas, — had disclosed his plans to a few confidential 
sympathizers, during a conference held by them in Chatham, Canada, 

May 8th, 1858; and, selecting 

1^- 



Harper's Ferry, Va., as the most 
available strategic point, struck 
the first blow which his scheme 
contemplated, Sunday evening, 
October 16th, 1859. Brown, the 
leader of this movement, was 
about sixty years of age, born in 
Connecticut, and certainly one of 
the most remarkable men of his 
times. 

By the conference or convention 
held in Canada, a "Provisional 
Constitution and Ordinances for 
the People of the United States" 
was formed, and Brown was chosen 
commander-in-chief. Shortly afterward, Brown, with two of his sons, appeared in the 
vicinity of Harper's Perry, and under the assumed name of Smith rented a small farm 




OAPTtIRE OF .TOHS BROWN. 



716 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



in Maryland, a few miles from the Ferry, 
for the purpose of making the necessary 
observations and maturing their plans for 
the final movement. Here were gradually 
collected a considerable quantity of arms 
and ammunition, consisting of rifles, pis- 
tols, pikes, cartridges, and the like ; and a 
body of twent^'-two, of whom seventeen 
were whites and five colored, joined him 
from various parts of the country. The 
resolute, darinjj, and courageous character 
of l>ri>wn was \^•ell calculated to constitute 
him a Ii'iuKt in siicli an enterprise, and 
liis fighting qualities had boon so success- 
fully displayed during the long and bloody 
contest which ended in making Kansas a 
free state, that his followers looked up to 
him as a hero, "to high destiny born." 

The time being near at hand when, 
according to the programme agreed upon, 
the^' were to arm themselves and go forth, 
Brown made an address to them, conclud- 
ing it by saying: "And now, gentlemen, 
let me press this one thing on j'our minds. 
You all know how dear life is to you, and 
how dear your lives are to your friends ; 
and, in remembering that, consider that 
the lives of others are as dear to them as 
yours are to you. Do not, therefore, take 
the life of any one, if j-ou can possibly 
avoi<l it ; but, if it is necessary to take 
life in order to save your own, then make 
sure work of it." In addition to the small 
force thus emplo3'ed in active military 
duty, there were others, it is said, to 
whom was assigned the task of cutting the 
telegraph wires and destroying the railway 
track, at the in-(>p(?r time, and who subse- 
quently made their escape. 

It was now about ten o'clock in the 
evening, and the first act of the invasion 
was to b(! performed. William William- 
son, the watchman on the Potomac bridge, 
while walking across the Maryland side, 
was seized and made prisoner. Almost 
simultaneously with this, the government 
armory buildings, or arsenal, containing 
an immense quantity of arms, were quietly 
taken possession of. William.son, on being 
arrested, recognized Brown and Cook, and 
knowing them, treated the matter as a 



joke, but was not long in learning iiis 
mistake. The watchman who was to re- 
lieve Williamson at midnight found the 
bridge lights all out, and was at once 
seized. Supposing it an attempt at rob- 
bery, he broke away, and managed to 
escape. 

Shortly after midnight, a small party of 
the invaders, headed by Stevens, proceeded 
to the house of Col. Lewis Washington, a 
large farmer and slave owner, roused him 
from his bed, and told him he was their 
prisoner ; they ill so took his arms, car- 
riage, etc., and proclaimed liberty- to his 
slaves. A similar visit was then made to 
the house of Mr. Alstadtt, who, with his 
son, was captured, and freedom given to 
his slaves. On entering the armor}', 
Colonel Washington states that he found 
some eight or ten persons, who recognized 
him. They all sat together, and were 
conversing, when Brown, after asking 
their names, said, " It is now too dark to 
write, but when it is sufficient!}- light, if 
you have not paper and pens, I will fur- 
nish you, and I require that 3-ou shall 
each write to your friends to send a negro 
man apiece, as a ransom." To all of the 
prisoners who inquired as to the object of 
the proceedings, the answer was, To free 
tlie sfavi'x ; and to the question by what 
authority it was done, reply was made, Bi/ 
the mithority of God Almighty. These 
replies fitly represented the sentiment 
which, from first to last, seemed to possess 
Brown's mind. 

At the upper end of the town, the mail 
train arrived at the usual hour, but was 
warned not to proceed over the bridge. 
After some hours' detention, the train was 
allowed to go on, but not until great alarm 
and some bloodshed had ensued. A col- 
ored man, a porter eniploj"ed by the rail- 
road company, refusing to surrender, re- 
ceived a mortal wound. Two others, 
named Turner and Boerly, who undertook 
a forcible interference with the invaders, 
were also fatally .shot. But, so quietly had 
matters, for the most part, been managed 
by the insurgents, that it was not until 
daybreak, that the town, now thoroughl}' 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



717 



waked ap, found, to their utter astonish- 
ment, that all the armory buildings and 
premises were in the invaders' hands, that 
the bridge and avenues were guarded by 
armed sentinels, and that the condition of 
the inhabitants was that of prisoners. A 
panic, of course, immediately ensued. In 
the meantime, a number of workmen, not 
knowing the actual state of affairs, ap- 
proached the armory and were successively 
taken prisoners, until at one time the 
number thus confined was not less than 
sixty. But efforts were made by some of 
the populace to shoot the insurgents, and, 
in this attack, Brown's son Watson re- 
ceived a mortal wound. A number of cit- 
izens were imprisoned in the engine-house, 
which Brown afterward made his chief 
fortress ; the workmen were imprisoned in 
a large building further down the yard. 




So sudden and unaccountable were these 
proceedings, to the people of the town, 
that, wonder-struck, they seized such arms 
as they could find, and, gathering them- 
selves in small bodies on the outskirts of 
the town, and at points remote from the 
works, assumed the best attitude of de- 
fense possible. But all was confusion and 
mystery. Even the sight of several armed 
negroes among the strangers did not at 
first excite suspicion that it was an anti- 
slavery movement, and the report of one of 
the captured slaves, confirmatory of that 
fact, was received with incredulity. Some 
supposed that it was a strike among the 
discontented armorers or the government 



laborers ; others argued that it was a band 
of robbers, organized in some of the cities, 
plundering the government funds. 

Intelligence of the affair was speedily 
communicated, by railroad and messenger, 
to all the neighboring towns, and military 
companies soon began to make their ap- 
pearance. At about noon, some Charles- 
town troops, commanded by Colonel Bay- 
lor, crossed the Susquehanna some distance 
up, and marched down the Maryland side 
to the mouth of the bridge. Firing a 
volley, they made a rapid dash across the 
bridge, clearing it of the invaders, who 
retreated down toward the armory. In 
this movement, one of the insurgents was 
killed, and another, named Thompson, was 
made prisoner. During the rest of the 
day, considerable firing took jalace, result- 
ing in the killing and wounding of sev- 
eral, including Brown's son Oliver, Kagi, 
Brown's secretary of war, and Leeman, 
one of Brown's cajjtains. A stray shot 
also killed Mr. Beckham, the mayor of the 
town, who incautiously exposed himself to 
the running fire between the parties. The 
death of Mr. Beckham so exasperated the 
populace, that thej' immediately raised a 
cry to bring out the prisoner, Thompson, 
for retaliation. He was brought out on 
the bridge, and there shot down. He fell 
into the water, and some ai)j)earance of 
life still remaining, he was riddled with 
balls. 

From Martinsburg, a considerable force 
arrived at the upper end of the town, and, 
entering the armory grounds by the rear, 
made an attack from that side. Dashing 
on, firing, and cheering, they carried the 
building in which the armory men were 
imprisoned, and released the whole of 
them. They were, however, but poorly 
armed, and when they came within range 
of the engine-house, where Brown and his 
particular associates, with some of their 
prisoners, had gathered, they were forced 
to fall back, suffering somewhat severely. 

At Washington, Baltimore, and Rich- 
mond, the news of the insurrection pro- 
duced the wildest excitement, and a move- 
ment of the troops instantly ordered. 



718 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187C. 



Col. Robert E. Lee, with about a liuiidred 
United States marines, and two field- 
pieces, was sent from Washington to the 
scene of action, and wiis soon in possession 
of the armory grounds, in close proximity 
to the engine-house. Early the next 
morning, Lieut. J. E. B. Stuart, aid to 
Colonel Lee, advanced to parley with the 
besieged, and, on being received at the 
door, demanded an unconditional surren- 
der, onlv promising them protection from 
immediate violentu? and a trial by law. 
Captain Brown refused all terms other 
than these — that they should be permitted 
to march out with their men and arms, 
taking their prisoners witli them; that 
they should proceed unpursned to the toll- 
gate, when tliey would free their prison- 
ers; the soldiers would then be permitted 
to pursue them, and they would fight if 
they could not escape. This was refused, 
and Lieutenant Stuart pressed uj)on Brown 
his desperate position, and urged a sur- 
render. The expostulation was very earn- 
est, and the interest of the scene became 
most intense. The volunteers were ar- 
ranged all around the building, cutting off 
an escape in every direction. The ma- 
rines, divided in two squads, were ready 
for a dash at the door. 

Finally, having exha\isted all argument 
with the determined Captain Bruwn, 
Stuart walked slowly from the door. 

Immediately, the signal for attack was 
given, and the marines, headed by Colonel 
Harris and Lieutenant Green, advanced in 
two lines on each side of the door. Two 
powerful fellows sprang between the lines, 
and with heavy sledge hammers attempted 
to batter down the door. The door swung 
and swayed, but appeared to be secured 
witli a rope, the spring of which deadened 
the effect of the blows. Failing thus, they 
took hold of a ladder, some forty feet long, 
and, advancing at a run, brought it with 
tremendous effect against the door. At 
the second blow it gave way, one hid fall- 
ing inward in a slanting position. The 
marines immediately advanced to the 
breach, Major Russell and Lieutenant 
Green leading. A marine fell in front. 



The firing from the interior was rapid and 
sharp. They fired with deliberate aim, 
and for a moment the resistance was seri- 
ous, and desperate enough to excite the 
s|>ectators to something like a pitch of 
frenzy. The next moment, the marines 
poured in, the firing ceased, and the work 
was done, while cheers rang from every 
side. One of the marines and one of 
Brown's men fell in the affray. 

One of the government officers, as soon 
as he .saw Brown, altlknigli the latter was 
unarmed, struck him in the face with his 
saber, which instantly knocked him down. 
The blow was repeated several times, and 
then another soldier ran a bayonet twice 
into the prostrate body of the old man. 

Wlien the insurgents were brought out, 
they were greeted with execrations, and 
only the precautions that had been taken 
preserved them from immediate execution. 
The crowd, nearly every man of wliirh car- 
ried a gun, swayed with tumultuous ex- 
citement, and cries of "Shoot them! Shoot 
thi'm.'" filled the air. The appearance, 
however, of the liberated prisoners, all of 
whom had escaped injury, changed the 
current of feeling, and j)rolonged hu/.zas 
took the jilace of howls and threats. The 
lawn in front of the engine-house, after 
the assault, jiresenfed a dreadful sight. 
Lying on it were the bodies of the two 
men kilUil on the previous day, and found 
inside the house ; three wounded men, one 
of them just at the last gasp of life, and 
two others groaning in j)ain. One of 
the dead was Brown's son Oliver. The 
wounded father and his son Watson were 
lying on the grass, the old man presenting 
a gory spectacle. He had a severe bayonet 
wound in his side, and his face and hair 
were dotted with blood. 

A short time after Captain Brown was 
brought out, he revived, and talked earn- 
estly to those about him, defending his 
course, and avowing that he had done only 
what was right. He replied to questions 
substantially as follows: 

"Are you Ca])tain Brown, of Kansas?" 

" I am sometimes called so." 

" Are vou Osawatomle Brown ? " 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EXTENTS. 



719 



"I tried to do my duty there." 
"What was your present object?" 
" To free the slaves from bondage." 
" Were any other persons, but those 
with you now, connected with the move- 
ment ? " 
"No." 

" Did you expect aid from the north ? " 
"No; there was no one connected with 
the movement but those who came with 
me." 

" Did j'ou expect to kill people in order 
to caxty your point ? " 

"I did not wish to do so, but you force 
us to it." 



Virginia, sufficient to take possession of 
both states, with all of the negroes they 
could capture. He had only a general 
idea as to his course ; it was to be gener- 
ally south-west, through Virginia, varying 
as circumstances dictated or required. 

Of Brown's whole band of twenty-two 
men, ten whites and three negroes were 
killed ; three whites, two of them severely 
wounded, and two negroes, were taken 
[)risoners ; and four escaped, two of whom. 
Cook and Hazlitt, were subsequently cap- 
tured. 

An indictment for treason and murder 
was immediately found against Brown, by 




HARPEB'S FERRY AND THE ARSEX.VL TAKEN BY BKOWN. 



Brown declared that he had the town at 
his mercy ; that he could have burned it, 
and murdered the inhabitants, but did not ; 
he had treated the prisoners with courtesy, 
but complained that he himself was hunted 
down like a beast. He expressed a desire 
to live, and to be tried by his country. In 
his pockets nearly three hundred dollars 
were found in gold. He said it was no 
part of his purpose to seize the public arms 
— he had army and ammunition enough 
re-shipped from Kansas ; he onlj' intended 
to make the first demonstration at this 
point, when he expected to receive a rapid 
increase of the allies from abolitionists 
settled everywhere through Maryland and 



the Virginia authorities, and, until the 
time of his trial, was rigorously impris- 
oned and guarded. In his personal ap- 
pearance, Brown was a small man, with 
white head and beard, and cold-looking 
graj' eyes. When not speaking, his lijjs 
were compressed in such a manner as 
showed him to be a man of great deter- 
mination. Of his bravery, no testimony 
could be more emphatic than that of his 
opponents. "They are mistaken" — said 
Mr. Wise, at that time governor of Vir- 
ginia, "who take him to be a madman. 
He is a bundle of the best nerves I ever 
saw, cut and thrust, and bleeding and in 
bonds. He is a man of clear head, of 



(20 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



courage and fortitude, and simple ingenu- 
ousness. He is cool, collected, and indom- 
itable; and inspired nie with great trust 
in his integrity as a man of truth. He is 
as brave and resolute a man as ever lieaded 
an insurrection. He has coolness, daring, 
jiersistency, stoic faith and patience, and a 
firmness of will and purpose unconquera- 
ble. He is the farthest possible remove 
from the ordinary ruffian, fanatic, or mad- 
man." Colonel Washington, also, said 
that Brown was the coolest man he ever 
saw in defying death and danger. With 
one son (]o:ul by his side, and another shot 
through, he felt tlie ]iulse of bis dying son 
with one band, held bis rifle with the 
other, and eoniraanded his men with the 
utmost composure, encouraging tbein to be 
iirm, and to sell their lives as dearly as 
possible. 

As the prisoners demanded to be tried 
separately, the authorities elected to try 
Brown first. He asked for a delay, on 
account of his severe wounds ; but this 
was refused, and the case commenced on 
the 2Gth of October, in Charlestown, Va. 
Brown was imable to sit, and lay upon a 
mattress. The trial lasted three days, and 
Brown was found guilty upon all the 
charges, and sentenced to he executed on 
the 2d of December. As the jury came 
in, with their verdict, the dense crowd of 
human faces was moved and agitated with 
intense expectan(-y, every head and neck 
being stre tilled to witness the closing scene. 
The only calm and unruffled countenance 
there, was that of the doomed one, above 
whose head bung the sword of fate. It 
was late, and the gas-lights gave an almost 
deathly pallor to his face. He seated him- 
self near his counsel, and, after once rest- 
ing bis bead upon bis right hand, remained 
entirely motionless. On being asked why 
sentence should not be passed upon him, 
he rose and leaned sliglitly forward, his 
hands resting on the table, and, in a voice 
singularly mild and gentle, said, among 
other things: 

"In the first place, I deny everything 
but what I have all along admitted — the 
design on viy part to free the slaves. I 



intended certainly to have made a clean 
thing of that matter, as I did last winter, 
when I went into Missouri, and tliere took 
slaves without the snapping of a gun on 
either side, moved them through the coun- 
try, and finally left them in Canada. I 
designed to have done the same thing 
again, on a larger scale. That was all I 
intended. I never did intend murder, or 
treason, or tlie destruction of property, or 
to excite or incite slaves to rebellion, or to 
make insurrection. 

I have another objection ; and that is, it 
is unjust that I should suffer such a pen- 
alty. Had I interfered in the manner 
which I admit, and wiiirh I ailniit has 
been fairly proved (for I admire the truth- 
fulness and candor of the greater portion 
of the witnesses who have testified in this 
case) — had I so interfered in behalf of 
the rich, the powerful, the intelligent, the 
so-called great, or in behalf of any of their 
friends, either father, mother, brother, 
sister, wife, or children, or any of that 
cla.ss, and suffered and sacrificed what I 
have in this interference, it would have 
been all right, and every man in this 
court woidd have deemed it an act worthy 
of reward rather than punishment. 

This court acknowledges, as I suppose, 
the validity of the Law of God. I see a 
book kissed here which I suppose to be 
the Bible, or, at least, the New Testa- 
ment. That teaches me that 'all things 
whatsoever I would that men .should do 
unto me, I should do even so to them.' It 
teaches me further, to 'remember them 
that are in bonds as bound with them.' 
I endeavored to act up to that instruction. 
I am yet too young to understand that God 
is any resjjecter of jiersons. I believe tliat 
to have interfered as I have done, as I 
have always freely admitted I have done, 
was not wrong, but right. Now, if it is 
deemed necessary that I sbonlil forfeit my 
life for the furtherance of the ends of jus- 
tice, and mingle my blood further with the 
blood of niv children, and with the blood of 
millions in this slave country whose rights 
are disregarded b^' wicked, cruel, and unjust 
enactments — I submit : so let it be done." 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



721 



During the period of Brown's imprison- 
ment, from the time of his sentence to the 
day of his execution, he was occupied in 
receiving visitors and in \vriting to his 
family and friends. Letters of sympathy 
jioured in upon him ; and visitors were in 
constant attendance, including editors, 
politicians, and other persons of eminence. 
Clergymen were there too, some of whom 
offered to him the consolations of religion. 
But, though Brown was a member of the 
Congregational or Presbyterian church, 
and a rigidly religious man, he strictly and 
sternly refused to be aided in his prayers 
by the pro-slavery preachers of the south, 
telling them to go home and read their 
Bibles. One of these gentlemen having 
called to pray with Brown, was asked by 
the latter if he was ready to fight, if neces- 
sity required it, for the freedom of the 
slave. On his answering in the negative, 
Brown said that he would thank him to 
retire from his cell. — that his prayers 
would be an abomination to God. To 
another clergyman, he said that he would 
not insult his God by bowing down with 
any one who had the blood of the slave 
upon his skirts. One of these clerical 
callers having advanced an argument in 
favor of slavery as it existed in America, 
Brown replied in such a manner that the 
reverend gentleman though it best to draw 
the discussion to a close, and therefore 
withdrew. The old man said to him — 

" My dear sir. you know nothing about 
Christianity; you will have to learn the 
A B C's in the lesson of Christianity, as I 
find you entirely ignorant of the meaning 
of tlie word. I, of course, respect you as a 
gentleman, but it is as a heathen gentle- 
man." 

The day appointed for the execution 

having arrived, he walked out of the jail 

with a radiant countenance and the step of 

a conqueror. Firmly, with elastic limb, 

he moved forward, without flinching. As 

he stepped out of the door, a black woman, 

with a little child in her arms, stood near 

by. He paused a moment, and, stoojjing, 

kissed the child with great tenderness. 

Another black woman, with a child, ex- 
46 



claimed, as he passed along. " God bless 
you, old man ! I wish I could help you ; 
but I can't." As he looked at her, he 
shed a tear of tender emotion. 

With an unfaltering stej), he mounted 
the wagon which was to convey him to the 
Scaffold, seating himself beside Captain 
Avis, the jailor, <and Mr. Saddler, the un- 
dertaker, both of whom expressed their 
admiration of the old man's character. 
Accompanying the wagon were several 
military companies, mostly cavalry. Be- 
ing asked, on the way, if he felt any fear, 
he said, " I can endure almost anything 
but parting from friends; that is very 
hard." When nearing the fatal spot, and 
being inquired of as to how he would be 
able to meet such a fate, he rejilied, " It 
has been a characteristic of me, from in- 
fancy, not to suffer from physical fear. I 
have suffered a thousand times more from 
bashfulness than from fear." Those who 
were near the old man, and scrutinized him 
closely, state that he seemed to take in the 
whole scene at a glance, straightening 
himself up proudl}', as if to set to the sol- 
diers an example of a soldier's courage. 
The only motion he made, beyond a sway- 
ing to and fro of his body, was a patting 
of his knees with his hands, the same as 
was noticed throughout his trial and while 
he was in jail. As he came upon an emi- 
nence near the gallows, he cast his eye 
over the beautiful landscajje, and followed 
the windings of the Blue Ridge mountains 
in the distance. He looked up earnestly 
at the sun, and sky, and all about, and 
then remarked — 

" This is a beautiful country. I have 
not cast my eyes over it before — that is, 
while passing through the field." 

" Yes," was the sad response of his 
friend and custodian. Captain Avis. 

"You are a game man, Captain Brown," 
said Mr. Saddler. 

"Yes," he said, "I was so trained iiji; 
it was one of the lessons of my mother : 
but it is hard to jiart from friends, thougli 
newly made." 

"You are more cheerful than I am. 
Captain Brown," remarked Mr. Saddler. 



722 



OUR FIRST CENTURY'.— 1776-1876. 



"Yes, / ought to 4e.'" wiis the lieroic 
reply. 

Arrived at the field of death, he looked 
at the asseiiililed coneourse, and said — 

''I see no citizens here — where are 
they ? " 

" None but the troops are allowed to be 
present," was the answer. 

"That ou)^ht not to be," said he; "citi- 
zens should be allowed to be present as 
well as others." 

Descending from the wagon, he said, 
"Gentlemen, good-bye;" and then, walk- 
ing firm and erect, passing through the 
lino of military, and close to jailors, sher- 
iff, and other officers, he mounted the 
scaffold steps — the first man that stood on 
it. Calmly and manfully he surveyed the 
scene, amid the almost breathless mass of 
armed soldiery that surrounded him. With 
a graceful motion of his pinioned right arm, 
he took the slouched hat from his head, and 
carelessly cast it upon the platform by his 
side. Every one within view was greatly 
impressed with the dignity of his bearing ; 
and men of the south were heard to saj' that 
his courageous fortitude and insensibility 
to fear filled them with amazement. 

The hour having come, he said to Cajj- 
tain Avis. •' I have no words to thank j'ou 
for all your kindness to me." 

His elbows and ankles were now pin- 
ioned, a white cap was drawn over his 
eyes, and the fatal noose was adjusted 
around his bared neck. 

"Captain Brown," said the sheriff, "you 
are not standing on the drop. Will you 
come forward '.' " 

"I can't see — you must lead me," was 
his firm answer. 

The sheriff led him forward to the cen- 
ter of the drop. 



"Shall I give you a handkerchief," 
asked the sheriff, " and let you drop it as 
a signal ? " 

"No; / am ready at any time! But 
do not keep me needlessly waiting." 

At last, the order was given, the rope 
was cut with a hatchet, and the ti-ap fell. 
There was but one spasmodic effort of the 
hands to clutch at the neck, but for nearly 
five minutes the limbs jerked and quiv- 
ered. He seemed to retain an extraordi- 
nary hold on life. After the body had 
dangled in the air for twenty minutes, it 
was e.xamined by the surgeons for signs of 
life. They lifted up the once strong but 
now powerless arms, and placed their ears 
to the breast of the corpse, holding it steady 
by passing an arm around it. And so the 
body dangled and swung by its neck, turn- 
ing to this side and that, for thirty-eight 
minutes, when it was cut down, and put 
into a black walnut coffin. In due time, 
the body was conveyed to his home among 
the mountains, in North Elba, N. Y., an 
eloquent eulogy being pronounced by 
Wendell Phillips, at the place of burial. 

Cook, Coppoc, Copeland, and Green, 
Brown's companions, shared his fate De- 
cember 16th ; and Stevens and Hazlitt, 
March 16th. The other survivors had 
managed to escape. 

And thus, with these sanguinary scenes 
upon the scaffold, the curtain dropped 
upon a tragedy which, on its announce- 
ment, carried terror and e.\asj)eration to 
the south, and, for months, filled the whole 
country with a blaze of excitement, — a 
theme of wonder in every mouth, and of 
heated partisan discussion, pro and con, in 
legislative halls, in the pulpit, on the 
political platform, and in the columns of 
the universal public press. 



LXXXIV. 

FALL OF THE GREAT PEMBERTON MILLS IN LAW- 
RENCE, MASS.— 1860. 



Nearly One Thousand Persons Buried in the Ruins — Multitudes, Male and Female, in Youth and 
Beauty, Brought in a Moment to Agony and Death — Bursting Forth of a Sweeping Conflagration. — 
Commingling of Horrible Sights and Sounds — Hair-breadth Escapes. — Three Fair and Beautiful 
Corpses Tight Together. — The Calamity Instantaneous. — Sensations of the Occupants. — Two Acres 
of Ruins. — Flames Suddenly Belch Forth. — Thrilling Cries, Woeful Scenes. — Efforts to Rescue the 
Wounded. — Many Left to Their Fate. — Thousands of Excited Visitors. — Sympathy and Relief. — A 
Room Stored with the Dead. — Wonderful Escape of a Young Woman. — Astonishing Presence of 
Mind. — Female Heroism and Devotion. — Tender Girls Struggling in the Ruins — Despair and Sui- 
cide. — Ladies Work the Fire Engines. — Harrowing and Piteous Appeals. — Cool Pluck of an Irish- 
man — Reading the List of Victims — Touching Request of a Dying Girl. — Endurance and Resigna- 
tion — Account of the Avondale Colliery Disaster. 



" A roar— a crash, and a Budden heave 

Of every etorv from base to eave! 

The plaster stiiver'e in massive flakes. 

Each capement. lintel and door-post quakes; 

Then down— down — down-down— 

With thunder that echoes throueh all the town. 

Come floor, and ceiling, and murderous wall, 

In one vast avalanche, burying oil!" 




THE RESCtJE. 



NPARALLELED in the history of catastrophes of its kind, 
was the destruction of the great Pemberton Mills, in the 
city of Lawrence, Mass., on the tenth of January, 1860. 
On the afternoon of that day, at about ten minutes before 
five o'clock, the vast and towering structure, with its looms 
under full headway, and a company of nearly one thousand 
operatives, suddenly fell in ruins to the ground, producing 
a scene of human woe beyond the power of pen to portray, 
and casting a deep gloom over the whole country. 

The principal building was two hundred and eighty feet 
long, eighty-four feet wide, and five stories high, with an 
ell six stories high, eighty-four feet long, and thirty-seven 
feet wide. The first story of the main building was used 
for weaving, and contained four hundred looms. The second 
story was used for carding, and the following machinery was in 
operation, viz. : one hundred and seventy-six cards, twenty-eight 
reeling heads, sixteen drawing frames, eight slubbers, fourteen 
fly-frames, and four card grinders. In the third story were the 
twisting and spinning machines, viz. : seventy-nine spinning 
frames, with one hundred and sixty spindles each, and two of 
Mason's mules of six hundred and eight spindles each. The 



724 



OUK KIK«T ("ENTUIIV.— 1776-1876. 



fourth story was used ;is a carding :iiiil 
spinning room, and liad in it forty cards, 
tlirci- reeling heads, four drawing frame.s, 
two slubbers, nine tly frames, fourteen 
Sh-nrp and Roberts's mules, with six hun- 
dred and seventy-two si>indles each, and 
twenty drawing frames. The fifth story 
was used for dressing, warjjing, .-ipooling, 
winding, grinding and reeling, with the 
following number of machines, viz : twenty 
dressers, twenty-four warpers, nineteen 
winders, eight spoolers, two grinders, and 
twenty-two reels. The different stories of 
the ell were used for packing, finishing, 
reeling, etc. 

Tiie wlioh' nuinlici- of looms in the mills 
was six hundred and fifty, and twenty- 
nine thou.sand .spindles were in use. When 
the mill was in full operation, the amount 
of cotton warped into cloth was .sixty thou- 
sand pounds j)er week, ])roducing one hun- 
dred and fifty thou.sand yards. The driv- 
ing machinery consisted of three turbine 
wheels, of two hundred horse-power each. 
The building was heated by steam, and 
the boiler used for generating it occupied 
a small building by itself. Against fire 
the structure was well protected, there 
being force pumps in the picker house, 
which was located in the rear of the main 
building, and a line of hose running from 
the pumps to every room in the mill. 

While the men, women, and children, in 
numbers sufficient to constitute a large 
village, were at their usual work in the 
large mill where the manufacturing opera- 
tions were chiefly carried on, — with no 
previous warning — almost in an instant — 
certainly in a space of time not exceeding 
one minute, — the floors of this huge five- 
storied pile with one startling <-rack gave 
way, the walls were overthrown, and stone, 
bricks, timber, machinery, and this great 
crowd of human beings, lay in one con- 
fused mass of ruins. A few ho\n-s later, 
a fire broke out and raged fiercely over the 
shapeless heap, and then indeed a thrill of 
horror ran through the stoutest hearts, as 
the thousands, working with almost super- 
human effort for tlie rescue of the unfortu- 
nate victims, were successivelv driven off 



by the flames, and forced to abandon 
friends, relatives, and neighbors, to their 
awful fate. It was naturally 8up])osed. at 
first, that nothing could add to tlie sights 
and sounds <>f horror jiroduced by the orig- 
inal calamity ; but when, as the night 
advanced, the terrible cry of 'Fire! fire!'' 
was .sounded throughout the agonizing 
community, the effect was a])palling. On 
the first alarm being given, that the mill 
had fallen, the announcement seemed for 
a moment to paralyze every one. But 
active sympathy was soon developed, and 
thousands of earnest, energetic men 
thronged to the spot, and began the dan- 
gerous work of attempting to extricate the 
buried operatives from the mass of ruins, 
which were spread over two acres of 
ground. It being dark, huge bonfires 
were kindled all around the ill-fated local- 
ity, to give light to the laborers in their 
work. A scene of more thrilling, fearful 
interest, can hardly be imagined, and 
utterly fails of description ; for the shrieks 
of the suffocating and mangled creatures, 
so harrowing and heart-rending, were re- 
echoed by the bystanders who stood 
iiround in thousands, and most of whom 
had dear relatives or friends, helpless and 
perhaps dying, within hearing, but almost 
beyond hope of succor. 

Every engine from the city and neigh- 
borhood was on the spot, and streams of 
water at once flowed copiously and contin- 
uously, .so that for a time the fire seemed 
to make no headway, and there was a rea- 
sonable hope that it would be immediately 
subdued; but soon, in spite of every effort, 
the flames began to spread with steady and 
irresistible force, until the whole accumu- 
lation was one sea of blaze, which charred 
to ashes the i-rushed fragments of the 
building, and the mangled, screaming suf- 
ferers buried beneatli. From nearly every 
hole and crevice in the vast ]>ile, — from 
tlie top, from the sides, and in fact from 
every fissure from whence a voice in tin- 
inside could make its way. — came shrieks 
for help, groans of anguish, prayers and 
meanings, and in many, very many cases, 
the poor sufferers could be di.stinctly seen. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



725 



ff 



tulkeii to, and even reached by the hand 
from the outside. Many thus imprisoned 
were encouraged and sustained bj- assur- 
ances of safety, and iu many cases cups of 
coffee couhl be, and were, passed down to 
those below, wlio, alas ! after all this near 
approach to safety, saw hour after hour 
pass away, until, at last, the frightful cry 
of fire, and the greedy progress of the 
flames, as, crackling and hissing, they 
enveloped with fearful rapidity the sur- 
rounding remains, told them too plainly 
that all hope of life was gone. This was 
strikingly manifested iu the following case, 
and wliich is but one among many of a 
similar character : A citizen, who risked 
his own life iu attempts to save the opera- 
tives from the burning pile, worked his 
way into an inner apartment, and, looking 
through a hole in the wall, saw two men 
and a woman walking to and fro, to ap- 
pearance entirely unharmed. He reached 
through, and took them by the hand, and 
proceeded with vigorous blows to make an 
opening in the j)artition. A moment too 
soon the flames darted up where he stood. 
A flood of water jjoured in upon it totally 
blinded him, and he rushed from the 
place, warned by the engineer, and nar- 
rowly escaping with his life. Many had 
thus to be left to tlieir sad and inevitable 
fate. 

As to the phenomenon of the catastro- 
phe, at the actual moment when the mill 
fell, one of the male operatives, whose life 
was miraculously saved, states that he was 
in the carding-room in the second story, 
lighting up, it being then five or ten min- 
utes before five o'clock ; he had got but a 
few burners lighted, when, suddenly, a 
noise was heard, which sounded like a loud 
thundering crash overhead, and, instantly f;^^? 
looking up, the shafting was seen coming "■^**' 
down upon the whole room. Bewildered 
and terrified at such an unaccountable 
sjiectacle, he stood nailed to the spot, and 
did not seem to have power to move, 
although conscious that the building was 
coming down. Then he heard the over- 
seer shout, and tried to jump out of the 
rubbish, but something struck him, pro 






RCINS OF PEMBEBTON MIU.S. 



726 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



\ 



ducing insensibilitv ; lie ilid not remain so 
long, but, on coming to, found liimself 
hurled in tlie rubbish, and did not expect 
to get out of its depths alive. All covered 
over with blood from wounds in the face, 
he finally I'rawled up and got to the top, 
where a lot of ruins, hanging in a critical 
position, threatened instant death to any 
one who should disturb them ; he however 
succeeded in working his way through, 
passing by a dead girl and two other man- 
gled bodies, before getting out. 

One young woman, twenty years of age, 
who was at work in tlie second story, 
heard the crash of a portion of the build- 
ing, and saw ])ortions of it tumbling down. 
She immediately started in an opposite 
direction, but before she reached this point 
the walls were crumbling, and death 
seemed inevitable the next moment. Pan- 
ic-stricken, she rushed to a side door, and 
was just emerging to the entry, when, 
suddenly, it was crushed in. She recol- 
lected nothing more than getting through 
a window and leaping to the ground, 
wounded and unconscious. Another young 
woman described her sensations and cxjjc- 
rience in a similar manner. Unapprised 
of the fall of the building until the terri- 
ble reality came directly ujion her. she 
was at her usual work in the third story. 
She only know that the whole flooring 
above her was precipitated upon that on 
which she stood, accompanied by a terrific 
noise. She was crushed beneath some 
machinery near which she was at work, 
her head being pressed against a beam, 
seeming, as she described it, as if her head 
would "split in two at every moment." 
Her lower limbs were forced in one direi-- 
tion, her arms in another. But one arm 
could be used at all. Every second the 
heavy weight api)eared to be settling closer 
and closer upon her. She saw nothing 
but death in prospect; and with feelings 
of the most agonizing nature, she prayed 
(iciil that she might be delivered from the 
imjiending doom. Hardly had she ceased 
uttering this prayer, than the falling of a 
wall in a distant ]iortioii of the mill re- 
leased her from the imminent and deadly 



peril. With a presence of mind that 
exhibited genuine heroism, she struggled 
against danger and death, and in time 
reached a point of safety. This was after 
being in the ruins for upward of an hour. 
Her condition, on e.scapiug, was most piti- 
able, being hardly able to turn her body 
upon her bed. 

By one o'clock, there was nothing to be 
seen but a broad area of black smoking 
ruins. The water-works connected with 
the mill were rendered useless by the 
destruction of the building, still there was 
a large amount of water poured upon the 
fire from various sources. But though the 
ruins were thus deluged with water, the 
presence of cotton waste saturated with 
oil, the floors rendered 'combustible by the 
dripping oil from the machinery, and, 
above all, the depth at which the fire 
originated and burned, rendered it difficult 
to extinguish, and so, until morning 
dawned, the smoke and half-smothered 
fire still rose from the funeral pile. 

Scarcely had it become known that the 
appalling accident had happened, and that 
the material comforts of life were needed 
by the victim.s, than evidences were given 
of the wide-spread sympathy which the 
calamity hail awakened throughout the 
country. Three thousand persons were 
dependent on nine hundred for their su|>- 
])ort, who were out of employment ; chil- 
dren had lost their parents, brothers and 
sisters who had been dependent upon each 
other had become separated, and aged and 
infirm parents, who depended upon their 
children, were rendered childless. All 
this demanded speedy relief, and an appeal 
being made by the mayor to those who 
possessed the means to give, tens of thou- 
sands of dollars flowed in from the pockets 
of the benevolent for the relief of the 
needy. But the great subject of excite- 
ment and effort centered in the blackened 
heap of ruins and the rescue and care of 
the victims buried beneath. The city hall 
having been converted into a temporary 
hospital, mattresses, blankets and sheets, 
bandages, cordials and medicines, were 
sent in from every direction. The ladies 



GREAT AND MEMOEAHLE EVENTS. 



727 



(if tlie vicinity promptly contributed beds 
:ind blankets, and the druggists supplied 
profuse]}" from the contents of their stores. 
The settees were cleared from the floor, 
and in their place were arranged rows of 
mattresses, in close proximity on three 
sides of the hall. The platform at the 
head of the hall was used as a dispensary. 
At half an hour past midnight, scarcely a 
mattress was untenanted, and the groans 
of the wounded — many of them being 
youthful women of fairest form and beautj', 
— mingled with the heart-rending cries of 
relatives and friends. A large number of 
physicians were in attendance on the suf- 
fering and dj'ing, while others, exhausted 
with continual watching, working and 
waiting, over broken limbs and bruised 
bodies, lay down in some vacant spot for a 
brief rest, and then to resume their hu- 
mane labors. 

In one corner of the hall, was a large 
room which had been set apart for the 
reception of the unrecognized dead. This 
room was literally covered with mangled 
corpses, — ^bodies of men, women, j'outh, 
and children, hideously mutilated, — in just 
the condition they exhibited when taken 
from the ruins, being mostly naked, and 
covered with blood or begrimmed with 
smoke and dirt. It was, however, scarcely 
possible not to envy the lot of these, thus 
reposing in the calmness of death, com- 
pared with those near by, shattered, bleed- 
ing, hopeless. Some of the latter were 
groaning in agony, some were wild with 
pain to their last moment ; others quietly 
breathed their last, or bore their sufferings 
in silence. Everywhere were blood, bruises, 
and broken limbs. To one unacquainted 
with the scenes of the dead-house or the 
hospital, the spectacle was loathsome, sick- 
ening, horrible. 

From all the adjoining towns, and in- 
deed from all sections, a sympathizing 
population flowed in to the afflicted city. 
Each arriving train brought crowds of 
anxious visitors, who gathered to gaze in 
wonder upon the awful disaster, until the 
bridge, the ice-bound canal, and the street 
that overlooked it, were thronged with a 



living mass of human beings, pressing as 
close to the ruins as the heat of the still 
smoking pile would allow. Gradually, as 
the ruins became cool enough, the work- 
men resumed the search for dead bodies, 
energetically applying themselves to the 
sad task, being spurred on by intense anx- 
iety and woe, tempered with the hope of 
finding at last the precious remains sought 
for. A cold drizzling rain now set in, 
which finally changed to snow. Derricks 
were now raised to hoist the heavy masses 
of machinery, and from this time to the 
close of the week, bodies were almost 
hourly recovered and conveyed to the dead- 
room. Some were found in nearly a per- 
fect state, and were easilj' recognized ; 
others were mutilated and disfigured, and 
could only be identified by fragments of 
clothing. It deserves here to be men- 
tioned, that when tlie firemen became 
exhausted, a large number of ladies at 
once volunteered and manned the brakes 
of the engines, doing good service in this 
capacity. 

The incidents of suffering, heroism, 
hairbreadth escapes, and personal experi- 
ences of one kind and another, connected 
with this fearful tragedy, would well-nigh 
fill a volume. A few only can here be 
given, but these will amply depicture to 
the mind the diversified horrors of the 
calamity. 

Of female courage, one instance in espe- 
cial will never be forgotten. At a partic- 
ular point, when a rope had been fixed to a 
projecting timber, a call was made to the 
crowd to take hold and pull with a will, 
but for a few minutes, such was the dan- 
ger of the attempt — for the beam in fall- 
ing might engulf all who were near it — 
the call was unheeded. Men shuddered 
j and drew back ; they would ri.sk much to 
aid those below, but life was sweet, and 
the peril great. At this critical juncture, 
a woman rushed from among the crowd, 
and daring the spectators to follow, seized 
the rope and attempted to mount the pile 
of smouldering ruins to clear away with her 
own hands. The example was enough ; 
not a word was said, but strong hands at 



728 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



once drew her back, and then there was no 
lack of force at the rope, the beam was 
drawn out, and at least two sufferers re- 
leased through the opening thus made. 

Among the sufferers in the ruins at the 
time the fire broke out, was one of the 
overseers, a man much beloved by all who 
knew him, and whose voice was distinctly' 
heard while the digging was going on. 
He was nearly reached when the tlames 
broke out. Seeing his situation, he im- 
plored his friends to save him cjuickly or 
he should die, and though they struggled 
to reach him, the flames swept around and 
baffled every effort. Being confined, he 
could do nothing to resist the fire, and as 
its heat increased every moment, his hor- 
rible death seemed inevitable. He w;is 
able to move one hand, and, drawing his 
knife, said he should commit suicide rather 
than burn to death. His rescuers pressed 
on, but all hope of aid gave out, and he 
drew the knife across his throat. Soon 
after, they succeeded in removing him, 
still alive, to the city hall, but he expired 
shortly after. 

Every effort which humanity and inge- 
nuity could devise was put into operation. 
By means of ropes, bars, and other con- 
trivances, some scores of persons were at 
once taken out, more or less wounded, and 
their lives thus fortunately preserved. 
Besides those thus saved, a large number 
of operatives, mostly males, who were in 
the weaving-room, which was in the lower 
story, managed to escape by crawling up 
from that ruoin through a couple of low 
windows wliiili were not obstructed. The 
weaving-room was partially saved by a 
lieavy stone floor of the story above, and 
many in this department were saved. 
But one of the most wonderful escapes 
was that of a maiden lady about forty 
years old, who .worked in one of the upjier 
rooms. She was precipitated to the ruins, 
in a headlong and promiscuous manner, 
with timbers, portions of the roof, bricks, 
machinery, and debris generally, but, 
strange to say, alighted unharmed. It is 
related by a gentleman wlio was early on 
the spot, that at one point of the ruins he 



distinguished a female voice crying in dis- 
tress, and soon anotlier voice answered, 
" Is that you, Lizzie ? Are you hurt ? " 
The reply was another groan, and a 
piteous appeal to God's mercy in lier 
I behalf ; both these girls were afterwards 
rescued. Just before the flames burst 
forth a young girl was released, and, in 
answer to a question, stated that .she was 
unhurt ; it afterwards appeared, however, 
that her right arm was badly broken near 
the wrist, but, in the excitement of the 
moment and the joy of her deliverance 
from a dreadful death, she was totally 
unconscious of the hurt. 

A poor girl, alive and fully conscious, 
was dragged from the east end of the 
fallen mass, with her left arm torn from 
the socket, and her body and legs awfully 
mangled. In one place the bodies of 
three girls were found locked in each 
other's arms, but quite dead ; they could 
not be removed without mutilating or 
breaking the limbs, and, being abandoned 
for a time, the flames broke out befon; 
another attempt was made, and all three 
were consumed. A tough and plucky 
Irishman was taken out, unhurt, from an 
entanglement of beams and rubbish which 
appeared capable of producing instant 
death ; his first act, after bidding a scorn- 
ful • good riddance ' to the tight place In; 
had just filled, was to feel in his pocket, 
from whence he drew forth a sooty " du 
deen,' and seizing a brand from the tire, 
he lit his pipe and went his w-ay. From 
another jiart cif the ruins there was borne 
the dead body of a lad, and following him 
was carried a beautiful girl with one of her 
ankles burned to a crisp, she having been 
confined by one foot between two lieams, 
and only by the utmost exertion was the 
fair creature recovered. One woman was 
found with iier head janmied between two 
heavy beams, and pressed so that it was 
not thicker than the thickness of a 
hand, — a most terrible and sickening 
sight. The next ca.sc was that of a 
young girl confined in a narrow hole sur- 
rounded by broken machinery and ragged 
timber and boards, who succeeded in just 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



7'20 



squeezing through into ojien air, but wlien 
she emerged from the ruins she had 
scarcely an article of clothing on her 
person. 

In addition to the narrow escapes 
already described, may be related that of 
a little girl who, while two tliousand men 
were exerting every energy in extricating 
the survivors from their living sepulchres 
and the dead from the rubbish which 
l)uried them, was fortunately discovered 
by an exploring party. She lay appar- 
ently crushed beneath a ponderous block 
of iron, weighing more than a thousand 
pounds, and which covered her bodj' to 
her chin. Her back was pressed against 
a huge timber, one of her arms was thrust 
to the elbow through a ring in a piece of 
machinery, and she was completely wedged 
in by heavy iron gearing. Intent only 
on preserving her sweet features and ten- 
der form as little disfigured as possible, 
the men labored carefully to remove the 
block of iron without crushing her still 
further. Four or five of them tugged 
upon it, but could not make it stir. After 
they had made several ineffectual attempts, 
a stalwart and athletic man, in passing, 
caught hold of it, and, with marvelous 
power, aided doubtless, bj' the excitement 
which the scene produced upon him, he 
succeeded in loosening it. The other 
materials were then removed, and the 
body taken out, when, what was the sur- 
prise and joy of the noble-hearted work- 
men, that they had rescued a living girl, 
instead of a corpse, and, what was more, 
that her injuries were not fatal, but com- 
parativelj' trifling. It proved, on examin- 
ation, that the heavj' iron had met with 
some more powerful obstruction just as it 
touched and wedged her fast, and thus her 
life was spared ; but, had the pressure 
upon her body been only very slightly 
increased, or had the least carelessness 
attended the lalior of releasing her, she 
would have been another added to the list 
of victims. 

In one of the cars, on the way to 
Lawrence, a returning operative, who had 
shortly before left the city of mourning to 



find employment elsewhere, was seated I13' 
a gentleman who drew forth a paper con- 
taining a list of the dead and wounded so 
far as was then ascertained. The opera- 
tive looked over the gentleman's shoulder 
and perused the list. As his eye caught 
sight of a name, he uttered a piteous cry 
of anguish, and, grasping the paper, he en- 
deavored, through the fast trickling tears, 
to read the name more distinctly, in which, 
however, he could not succeed. " Is that 
a Mrs. Clark ? " he asked, in a tremulous 
tone. '' It is," answered the gentleman 
by his side. " Is it Annie Clark ? " pur- 
sued the operative. " No, sir ; " responded 
the other, "it is Catherine Clark; there 
is no Annie Clark in the list." " Thank 
God for that!" exclaimed the operative, 
as the tears — but now of joy — anew burst 
forth. " Is it a relative you were anxious 
for ? " inquired a sympathizing passenger. 
'' Yes, sir; " was the answer, with a sigh 
of intense i-elief, '■ it is my wife ; but, 
thank heaven ! her name is not there." 
Words of hearty hope of his finding her 
safe on his arrival, were freely spoken to 
him. 

But difficult indeed would it be to 
embody in the space of a few pages the 
details of a catastrophe, instantaneous and 
unforeseen, by which some one hundred 
lives were lost, three times that number 
of persons wounded, and nearly a thou- 
sand families deprived of their daily means 
of subsistence. The deeds of heroism 
on that awful night ; the sympathy aroused 
in the coldest hearts; charity melting the 
most selfish ; strength nerving the feeblest 
arm; patient endurance on the part of 
the wounded ; quiet resignation in the 
hearts of the mourners; — all these were 
as extraordinary as the occasion which 
called them forth. An appropriate type 
or reflection of the spirit which actuated all 
hearts were the three words, " Save Ntisfi. 
frst," — the cry of little Lizzie Flint, a 
bright young girl, an only daughter, who 
had brought from her home in the interior 
of Maine the character that belongs to 
the rural homes of New England. Poor 
Nash, who lay severely wounded near her. 



730 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177<>-1876. 



and whosp lirotlier lost liis life, was indeed 
saved. Tlie poor girl did not survive. 
She died in the realization of her tender 
and liuiuane wi.sh, that another, rather 
than herself, niiglit be saved. Peace to 
her sweet spirit in the world of light ! 

All events are due to some producing 
cause, and to this fact the nienioruble and 
disastrous catastrophe now described forms 
no exception. The jury, as the result of 
their protracted and painstaking inquiries, 
declared that the mill fell on account of 
the insufficiency and imperfection of the 
material used, and the improper arrange- 
ment of the same, the cast-iron shoring 
being ])articularly weak. The brick walls 
were unusually thin for a mill of such 
height, length and breadth ; the space of 
brick wall above and below the windows 
in the building was uncommonly small ; 
and the length of span from one sujiport 




LI/./.li: AMIIIsr THE AWFUL RUINS. 

to another, under the floor timbers, as 
well as the distance from one floor timber 
to another, was greater than in other 
mills. These were the direct causes of 
the disaster. 

In addition to the above, there was yet 
another di'l'rct, in the inner supports of 
the building, whi<-h added greatly to the 
insecurity. These sujjports consisted of 
cast-iron |)illars to the last degree ima- 
ilapted to fulfill their purpose, some of 
them being u])ou one side only an eighth 
of an inch in thickness, others showed a 
want of sharjiness in the material at the 
time of casting, and nearly all of them 
exhibited a reckless disregard and inex- 



cusable negligence on the part of the 
founder, in not providing a proper fasten- 
ing to prevent the floating of the core, 
and consequently an unecpial distribution 
of the molten iron. Jloreover. it appeared 
that at the time of the delivery of these 
pillars at Lawrence, and jtrevious to their 
erection, no test of their soundness was 
ever ordered or apjdied. The straightfor- 
ward statement of the master mason 
before the jury caused every heart in the 
community to shudder witli horror aixl 
indignation, namely, that when the tim- 
bers for the upper stories came they were 
too short, and orders came to jiut pro- 
jectors upon the walls to rest the timbers 
upon ; he expressed his opinion at tin- 
time, and many times afterward, not only 
to the architect, but to the owners and 
other.s, while the mill was building, that 
the walls were altogether too weak for 
such a structure! His warning was un- 
heeded, and in a few yeai-s the vast and 
towering pile toppled with sudden and 
fearful crash to its foundation, bringing 
multitudes to misery and wailing and 
death. 

In connection with the i)receding narra- 
tive of agony and death, some account of 
the terrible Avondale colliery disaster, in 
I'lymouth, Pennsylvania, in September, 
18(59, may here have an approjiriate inser- 
tion. This colliery (according to the de- 
scription given at the time in Harper's 
Weeklv.) Jiroduced. when in full working 
order, seven hundred tons of coal per day ; 
but for th'ee months previous to the first 
of September, it was idle, owing to the 
miners' strike. The masonry work of the 
mine, running down the sides of the shaft 
some twenty feet, was as strong as stone 
and cement could make it. The engine- 
house was firmly built; the machinery of 
the very best kind; and the breaker that 
covered the engine-house, and through 
which the broken coal was dispatched 
through along shoot to the railro.ad track 
below, was also built in a superior manner. 
On the morning of Sejitember Gth. a fire 
broke out, originating, as it appeared, in 
the furnace. A spark ignited the dry 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



(31 



scantling atljaceiit ; the flames leapi'd for- 
ward to the hottoni of tlie shaft, caught 
the wood-work inside, climbed to the top, 
and involved the coal-breaker and the sur- 
rounding buildings. Whatever fresh air 
there was in the mine went to feed the 
tierce flame, while the sulphurous gases, 
having no longer an outlet, were forced 
back into the chambers and galleries of 
the colliery. As the buildings at the top 
of the shaft were consumed, their ruins 
fell down and obstructed the only menus 
of entrance to or of egress from the mine. 
But what had become of the miners ? In 
the agonies of fear and suspense, their 
families were congregated about the open- 
ing in great numbers; and miners from 
all parts of the region rapidly arrived, to 
rescue their comrades, if possible. It 
was not until nine o'clock on the morning 
of the 7tb, that any encouraging prepara- 
tions for a descent could be made, and still 
the gas precluded any effective explora- 
tion until the 8th. Early on that day, 
two of the dead were found in the stable 
of the mine ; and, a few hours later, a 
large number of miners were found dead 
on the east side of the plane. The next 
party which descended reported that the_y 
went up the plane, just beyond which a 
barrier was met, consisting of coal ' culm ' 
and clothing. This was cleared away, 
and, a little further on, a similar barrier 
was found to have been arranged by the 



unfortunate inmates. One man was found 
dead outside of the barricade. Upon the 
removal of this second barrier, a pile of 
dead miners was discovered. These were 
found in all conceivable attitudes. Fath- 
ers had died embracing their children, 
and comrades locked in one another's arms. 
Mr. Hughes, the superintendent, was 
found sitting in a conspicuous position. 
It seemed as if, when the miners found 
there was no hope of escape or of rescue, 
they had all assembled at the front, from 
every recess of the mine. Their foreman, 
Hughes, was there, and to him they all 
looked for counsel. He seized upon the 
one resource that was left. If the fresh 
air could be imprisoned and a barrier 
built against the invading gases — then, 
perhaps, the men could live until help 
came. Resolutelj', under the orders of 
their captain, thej' fell to work and built 
the first barricade. There sat Hughes, 
as he was afterward found, giving instruc- 
tions to the men and boys. But all in 
vain. At last, exhausted bj' their work, 
and overcome by the deadly enemj- that 
would not be repulsed, they fainted at 
their posts, and died. As the bodies were 
brought to the top of the shaft, their 
faces were cleansed, and the}^ were thus 
prepared for the recognition of their 
friends. By noon, on the 9th, one hun- 
dred and eight bodies had been exhumed, 
after which no more were found. 



LXXXV. 

GRAND EMBASSY FROM THE EMPIRE OF JAPAN, WITH 

A TREATY OF PEACE AND COMMERCE, TO THE 

UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT.— 1800. 



First Ambassadors Ever Sent from that Ancient Country to a Foreign Land. — Their Official Reception 
by President Buchanan, and Tour of ObserTation to the Chief Cities — Public Interest Excited by 
this Extraordinary Mission. — Their Oriental Costume, Manners, Ceremonies, etc. — Japanese Distinc- 
tion Sliown to Americans — Character of tlie Embassy. — Headed by Eminent Princ-es. — Numerous and 
Brilliant Suite. — Arrival at Washington. — ['recession to the Hotel. — Most Curious Siwctacle — How 
the Treaty was Carried. — Ceremonies at the White House. — Salutations and Speeches — Impressive 
International Scene — Japanese Diplomacy. — Delivering the Tycoon's Letter. — Personal Appearance 
of the Ambassadors. — President Buchanan's Opinion. — Humors and Drolleries. — " Tommy," the 
Ladies' Pet. — Gallantry to Miss Lane. — The Embassy at the Navy Yard. — Astonishment Expressed 
by Them. — Adieu to the President — America's Message to the Emperor. 



" Uenceforlh. th« iotercoune of frirndflhip ahall b« held between both oaDtriee. and lieneTolent ftcUog* •luii be cultintod more end 
more, and never altered."— Lktteb or TllK Trcoo;f to Tue Prbside^t. 




JAPANESE BOX CONTAINISO THE THEATY. 



ONTEARY to all precedent in 
the hi.story of Japan, and its 
dealings with the family of na- 
tions, the rulers of that country 
sent an official embassy to the 
f^overnment of the United States, 
in the si>ring of 1860, charged 
with the duty of presenting for 
final ratification a treaty of amity 
and commerce between the two 
nations, — such as had never be- 
fore been made l)y the Japanese 
court with any other people, — 
and to express to the president 

great re]mblic of whidi he was the 



the emperor's |irofiiun(l respect for him, and for tlie 
elected chief. 

It was justly regarded as something flattering to the national pride of Americans, 
that this country should be the first to receive the distinction of an embassy from that 
ancient and almost unknown people, and that a republican government of the freest 
form should have been -selected for such an honor by a nation barred in by the prejudice 
of centuries against all but the most ilespotic rule; and the curiosity which everywhere 
prevailed to behold men from a region so distant, so long shut out from the rest of the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



733 



world, and now, for the first time, not only 
admitting the visits of other nations, but 
themselves undertaking a long and fatigu- 
ing voj'age to visit strangers in the utter- 
most end of the earth, was certainly natural. 

The embassy consisted of two princij^al 
ambassadors, princes of the highest rank 
among the nobility of the empire, and two 
associates, — nobles of nearly equal rank. 
These four were of the emperor's council, 
and were accompanied by a suite of sixteen 
officers, together with fifty-three servants. 
Arriving at Honolulu, in the United 
States ship Powhatan, Commodore Tat- 
nall, from Japan, they proceeded thence to 
San Francisco, where they arrived March 
27, 1860, in good health and spirits. A 
grand public reception was given them by 
the city, the chief dignitaries of the em- 
bassy being magnificently dressed in em- 
broidered silk robes, and each wore a 
sword of beautiful workmanship. 

In due time, the embassy reached Wash- 
ington, the capital of the nation, and the 
special place of their official destination. 
Here thej- were amply and elegantly' ac- 
commodated at Willard's Hotel, many of 
the apartments being newly furnished for 
the occasion. A fine military and naval 
detachment performed escort duty, as, in 
regular procession, the high officials and 
tlieir numerous retinue moved from the 
wharf to the hotel. The Nourimon, a 
black lacquered frame, square in shape, 
and in size and roof very much resembling 
a dog-kennel, in which was fixed the treaty 
box, hidden from the public eye by a loose 
cover of red oil-cloth, preceded the first 
ambassador, in the line of procession, and 
was borne bv two of the men belonsinff to 
the navy yard. 

General Cass, secretary of state, received 
the embassy on Wednesday. May 17th. 
and made a short speech of welcome. The 
next day was appointed for the grand cer- 
emonial of their presentation to the presi- 
dent of the United States, at the executive 
mansion. 

The accounts given in the Washington 
newspapers, of this nionorable proceeding, 
state that long before the time indicated 



for the passage of the procession from the 
quarters of the embassy to the president's 
house, the neighborhood was filled with a 
dense multitude, intent on witnessing a 
spectacle so unprecedented. The United 
States marines, ordnance giiards, and ma- 
rine band, were in attendance to do the 
honors of escort. True to the time they 
had appointed, the Japanese officials com- 
menced leaving their liotel at lialf-past 
eleven o'clock, and as soon as thej- were 
seated in the carriages drawn up to convej' 
them, the procession moved forward to the 
presidential mansion. Each carriage bore 
an officer of the embassy in full ceremo- 
nial costume, and, between every two car- 
riages, from two to four Japanese guards, 
armed with swords, not drawn, marched 
on foot, one of them carrying aloft a small 
ensign in Japanese fasliion, on a pole 
about twelve feet high. 

Occupying the first carriage, was an 
officer arrayed in a loose slate-colored gown 
of state, of a general form like the pulpit 
gown worn by the Episcopal clergy, witli 
huge sleeves stiffly extending right and 
left, the texture having a brocade-like 
appearance. The lower dress consisted of 
a pair of trouser.s, very wide and fidl, and 
of the same material. On the crown of 
the head, immediately over the tonsure, 
extending from the forehead to the crown, 
was worn an ornament, shaped like a band 
of three or four inches wide and eighteen 
inches long, bent in the middle, and the 
ends tied, but not close together. Nearly 
all the ambassadors wore this distinction, 
but in some the bend stood forward, in 
others backward. 

After the ofiicial in the slate-colored 
dress, came one in a rich green brocade; 
next one in light green ; then one in yel- 
low ; next a dark slate, and another in 
yellow or orange, a third in green, and two 
riding with Mr, Portman. the interpreter, 
both arrayed in blue. One little official, 
in a skirt richly embroidered with pink 
and gold, attracted considerable attention. 

On arriving at the doorway of the exec- 
utive mansion, the Japanese guards took 
the advance and distributed thenl^(■lves in 



734 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



735 



a double line, between which the ambassa- 
dors and superior officers passed into the 
interior of the building. Here they re- 
mained about ten minutes, until the cen- 
tral folding-doors of the great East room 
were thrown open, when the oriental 
strangers found themselves in the presence 
of a brilliant throng of ladies and gentle- 
men, the latter comprising the president 
and his cabinet officers, senators, members 
of the house of representatives, and officers 
of the army and navy, all in full dress, and 
the whole scene being most striking and 
impressive. 

After every arrangement had been con- 
summated for the august interview, the 
Japanese princes charged with the custody 
of the treaty, after advancing a few paces, 
bowed reverentially ; then took a few more 
steps, and bowed again, with rigid formal- 
ity ; and, having bowed once more as they 
approached the president, they then stood 
fust. The caps, or ornaments, which they 
wore upon their lieads, they retained 
throughout the ceremonies. The ambas- 
sador in chief, who stood in the center, 
now read from a paper which he held in 
his hand, his speech, or official address, to 
the president. It was read with rather a 
.■<trong nasal intonation, indicating earnest- 
ness rather than eloquence. This speech 
was interpreted as follows : 

"His majesty, the Tycoon, has com- 
manded us that we respectfully express to 
his majesty the President of the United 
States, in his name as follows : Desiring 
to establish on a firm and lasting founda- 
tion the relations of peace and commerce 
so happily existing between the two conn- 
tries that lately the plenipotentiaries of 
both countries have negotiated and con- 
cluded a treaty, he has now ordered us to 
exchange the ratification of the treaty in 
your principal city of Washington. Hence- 
forth the friendly relations shall be held 
more and more lasting ; and he is very 
happy to have your friendly feeling, and 
pleased that you have brought us to the 
United States, and will send us to Japan, 
in your men-of-war."' 

^Vhen the ambassador concluded this 



address, a square red sort of box or bundle 
was, with some delay, unfolded, and its 
contents presented ceremoniously and with 
an official air to the president, containing 
a letter to the latter from the Tycoon, or 
chief magistrate of Japan, and which the 
president immediately handed to Mr. Cass, 
secretary of state,who stood on his left hand. 

Having done this, the ambassador re- 
tired, explaining that it would not comport 
with the etiquette of his country that he 
should be present while the letter was 
read, and that he must report the delivery 
of the letter to "the commissioner," — an 
officer who remained at the door, outside. 

After a short delay, the princes, again 
entering as at fir.st, and having, as they 
advanced, stopped three times to bow 
themselves, presented to the president 
their letters of credence, which were in 
like manner passed over to the secretary of 
state. The president now commenced to 
read, in a very distinct and audible voice, 
his official address to the ambassador.s, in 
the words following : 

" I give you a cordial welcome as repre- 
sentatives of his imjjerial majestj', the 
Tycoon of Japan, to the American gov- 
ernment. We are all much gratified that 
the first embassy which your great empire 
has ever accredited to any foreign power 
has been sent to the United States. 

I trust that this will be the harbinger of 
perpetual peace and friendship between 
the two countries. The ratifications you 
are about to exchange with the secretary 
of state cannot fail to be productive of 
benefits and blessings to the people of both 
Japan and the United States. 

I can say for mj'self, and promise for 
my successors, that it shall be carried into 
execution in a faithful and friendly spirit, 
so as to secure to the countries all the 
advantages they may justly expect from 
the happy auspices under which it has 
been negotiated and ratified. 

I rejoice that you are pleased with the 
kind treatment which you have received 
on hoard of our vessels of war whilst on 
your passage to this country. You shall be 
sent back in the same manner to your 



736 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



native land, under the protection of the 
American flag. 

Meanwhile, during your residence 
amongst us, wliich I hope may be pro- 
longed 80 a.s to enable you to visit different 
portions of our country, we shall be liupi)y 
to extend to you all the hospitulitj' and 
kindness eminently due to the great and 
friendly .sovereign whom you so worthily 
represent '" 

The tone and language of the president 
seemed to be listened to by his bowing 
auditors with great satisfaction, and espe- 
cially the promise that the embassy should 
be returned to Japan at the cxjiense of the 
United States government, and under the 
protection of the Amerii^an flag. 

The princes retired, as before, to report 
what had been done and said, to " the 
commissioner ; "' but soon returned, and 
were then introduced successivelj' to each 
member of the cabinet, who all .shook 
hands with them. Next came General 
Scott, who made them one of his most gra- 
cious bows, but before whose imposing 
stature the ambassadors seemed almost 
extinguished. The vice-president of the 
United States was then called for, but was 
not in presence. The speaker of the 
bouse of representatives was next sum- 
moned, and, with difficulty, and not a little 
delay, oared his way through the sea of 
ladies' bonnets and ufiicers* epaulettes 
which tos.sed and billowed between him 
and the high place of honor. Finally, 
under the surveillance of Captain Dupont, 
the illustrious strangers, after a profound 
adieu to the president, which he returned 
with a bow as low, retired from the East 
room, and made their way through ranks 
of their kneeling subordinates to another 
room, where they prepared for their re- 
turn to their quarters. 

The following is a translation of the 
letter of the Ty-coon to the ])resident, 
which was delivered by the ambassadors : 

" To His Majesty the President of the 
United States of Ajnerica, I express with 
respect: Lately the governor of Simoda 
Insooye Sinano No-Kami and the Metske 
Iwasi Hego No-Kami had negotiated and 



decided with Townsend Harris, the mini.-^- 
ter plenipotentiary of your country, an 
affair of amity and commerce, and con- 
cluded previously the treaty in the city of 
Yeddo. And now the ratification of the 
treaty is sent with the commissioner of 
foreign affairs, Simmi Boojsen No-Kami 
and Mooragaki Awajsi No-Kami, to ex- 
change the mutual treaty. It proceeds 
from a particular in)portance of affairs 
and a perfectly amicable feeling. Hence- 
forth, the intercourse of friendship shall 
be held between both countries, and benev- 
olent feelings shall be cultivated more and 
^-more, and never altered. IJecause the 
now deputed three subjects are those 
whom I have chosen and confided in for 
the present post, I desire you to grant 
them your consideration, charity, and 
respect. Herewith I desire you to sj)read 
my sincere wish for friendly- relations, and 
also I have the honor to congratulate you on 
the security and welfare of your country." 

The first ambassador was a man of 
small frame, with a stoop across the shoul- 
ders; he was about five feet five in height, 
and tliirty-fivo in years, had a long face 
and a peculiar nose — being too thin to be 
called Jewish, and too even to be styled 
Roman. The .second ambassador looked 
twenty years older than the first. The 
countenance of the first indicated dignity 
bej'ond all affe(^tation. and the highest 
refinement. The others were of less dis- 
tingui.shed mien, but all possessed an 
agreeable exjiression. They were all 
thick-.skinned and dark in complexion, the 
general color being that of a bamboo 
walking-cane. The hair was shaved from 
all parts of the head excepting the sides 
and back, from which it was gathered in 
long bands to the crown, and there fast- 
(•nc(l with a white string, leaving a lock 
three or four inches long, stiffened with 
oil, and brought forward to the forehead. 

They wore silk or crape undercoats, of 
various hues, looser robes of the .same 
material, and mostly blue, being thrown 
and folded over them. In their belts of 
crape, they wore two swords, one short 
(the barrikarri sword, wbicli no jilebiau 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



737 



can make use of), the otlier longer. These 
weapons are of a finer steel than is else- 
where made, and were borne in neatly- 
wrought scabbards of thick skin, inlaid- 
with ornaments of gold and jewels. Their 
trousers were very wide and short, de- 
scending only to within five or six inches 
of the ground, and were made of silk, some 
of them being .covered with beautifully 
embroidered figures of birds and flowers. 
These trousers were held up by a flat 
braid resting in the small of the back, and 
around which the crape belt passed. Upon 
their feet were white cloth coverings, half 
eock, half gaiter, dosel}' fitting, and fast- 
ened by cords. Their sandals were of 
straw, and composed of a small, flat matt'"ig 
for the foot, and two cords to keep it in its 
place. Another article, almost insejiarable 
from the dress, — the pijw, — was carried in 
the back part of the belt, and was brought 
into very frequent, though not long sus- 
tained, use, three whiffs being the extent 
of Japanese indulgence in the weed. The 
princes, and most of the higher officers, 
wore watches purchased from the Dutch. 
For 2'ockets, they used a part of their 
flowing sleeves and the front of their 
robes above the belt, the customary occu- 
pation of which by goodly-sized packages 
gave the w'earers a protuberant appearance 
quite unaccountable at first sight. The 
dresses of the officers of lower grade were 
similarly f:ishioned, but not so rich in text- 
ure or color. Their coats were all marked 
with the stamp of the particular prince 
whom they served. 

President Buchanan extended the cour- 
tesies of the nation to the distinguished 
strangers in a manner befitting his high 
station, nor was he an unappreciating 
observer of their manners and jjcculiarities. 
"They never speak to me," he humor- 
ously' said, "without calling mo 'Emperor' 
and ' His Majesty,' and are the most par- 
ticular people about what they should do. 
Everything was written down for them, 
stating the course they were to take, the 
number of bows they were to make, and 
all that, before they left Japan. They 
can't understand me at all. They were 
47 



here in front, to hear the hand, on Satur- 
day. Well, I went down the steps to 
speak to some of my friends that I saw, 
and they couldn't understand that at all. 
To think that I — 'Emperor of the United 
States ' — should go down among and shake 
hands with the people, astonished them 
wonderfully. Oh, no ! thej' couldn't un- 
derstand that, it was so unlike any thing 
in their own country. Thej- are the 
queerest people to deal with possible ; 
there's no getting anything out of them, 
they're so close about everything. Ah ! 
these Japanese ; they're the most curious 
I>eople I ever saw. They take notes of 
every incident. They've got down a long 
description of how I looked when they had 
the reception, and every matter thej-'ve 
seen — nothing escapes them. They're 
alwaj'S sketching and taking notes of 
things. They're very proud, too, I can 
see ; they bow very low, but they won't do 
more than is prescribed for them in their 
instructions." The observations of the 
president, on these points, accorded pre- 
cisely with the views expressed by others. 
The interest manifested b^- the public in 
the appearance and movements of the 
Japanese was a source of continued grati- 
fication to the oriental visitors; they ap- 
peared pleased with the motley crowds 
that assembled under their windows, pre- 
senting to them quite frequently their 
smiling countenances,^ — sometimes amus- 
ing themselves, also, by throwing their 
native coin into the street, to be .'cranibled 
for. Large numbers of ladies and gentle- 
men paid their respects to them, and 
begged a card written in Japanese charac- 
ters, which were exhibited, in connection 
with the singular coin, as trophies and 
mementos of this memorable occasion. 
The Japanese were particular to inquire 
the occupation of their visitors, their salarj-, 
whether married, and numerous other ques- 
tions, all of which were written on their 
note-books. "With the ladies they were less 
particular. They smiled upon them most 
benignly, and were profuse in their admi- 
ration, as they were minute in their exam- 
ination of their jewelry. The piano was 



738 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



a special object of curiosity ; tlie source 
whence such l>eautiful harmonies jiroceeded 
was a profound nij-stery to tliem, but they 
never seemed to tire of the instrument. 

One of the most popular mcnihers of the 
embassy was Tataiesi Owasjero, the young- 
est of the interpreters, and called by his 
American friends " Tommy." He was a 
particular favorite with tlie ladies. When 
fans were handed to him for his autograph, 
he wrote upon them, "I like American lady 
very much ; I want to marry and live 
here with pletty lady " — (' pletty ' being an 
emendation of his own upon ' pretty.') 
Moreover, the sentiments of Tommy ap- 
peared to be liberally reciprocated. He 



which he persisted in calling 'Poppy Goes 
the Weasel,' — thinking the extra syllable 
rather a good thing. He also extended 
"his American acquirements in a less praise- 
worthy direction, — getting to swear after a 
curious manner, and, wlien over-excited, 
mingling undue profanity with his conver- 
sation, but with no notion of the impro- 
priety he was committing. A beautiful 
little girl, six or seven years old, was car- 
ried by Mayor Berret to see flie Japanese. 
Tommy directly a.ssumed a deep interest 
in her. He explained to her all sorts of 
Japanese notion.s, and for once repressed 
his boisterous instincts. He kept calling 
all his companions to look at the pretty 




Jits 81MM1 liuuJ.^i,.N ^olvA.Ml A>iU .MOoliAGAKl AWAJSI NOKAHI. 



was a thorough pet. Bevies of maidens 
gazed beneficently upon him all day, and 
until late in the evening, and extended to 
him unrelnctant hands. Matrons, too, 
proffered hini attentions; but, with keen 
di.scrimination, he was generally taken 
with a fit of business when the smiles that 
greeted him were not the smiles of youth- 
ful beauty. He soon learned to sing and 
whistle — a great acquisition, since the 
Ja|)anese are not a singing people, and 
have but few musical instruments. Among 
the tunes which he mastered were ' Hail 
Columbia,' and ' Pop Goes the Weasel,' 



stranger, and when she was about going 
away, asked : "Is it permitted here to kiss 
a little girl so young as that ? " — adding 
that in Japan it was considered exactly 
the correct thing to do. 

On the occasion of the embassy visiting, 
in a social waj-, the president's grounds, 
Miss Lane, the president's niece, exhibited 
some curiosity to examine the blade of 
Ogoori Bungo-No-Kami's sword. No 
sooner did that official comjirehend the 
desire of the lady to unsheath his catanna 
(the name of the weapon,) than he smiled 
most graciously, and said in Japanese, 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



739 



" Take it, my lady," at the same time 
handing it to her most gracefully. She, 
upon this, drew the glittering blade from 
its scabbard — half wood, half leather, with 
an inlaying of silver, — and eyed it woman- 
like and closely, and then returning it to 
its sheath, handed it back to its owner, 
who took it with evident pleasure that the 
thing of his honor and defense should have 
excited interest on the part of one so fair. 

Visiting the navy yard, they were aston- 
ished at beholding the forging of a main 
stem of a large anchor. They then pro. 
ceeded to the steam boiler department, and 
were evidently delighted with a large new 
boiler destined for the steamer Pensacola, 
as they examined it minutely. In the 
punching establishment, the mode of drill- 
ing amused them very much, as did also 
the explosion of a large mass of powder, in 
the shape of signal lights, as used in the 
navy. The extending of an immense 
chain, by hydraulic pressure, greatly ex- 
cited their curiosity. 

After a tour through different portions 
of the country, including visits to the 
principal cities, where they were the recip- 
ients of the most lavish and magnificent 
hospitalities, the3' had their final ceremo- 
nial audience with President Buchanan, in 
Washington. On this occasion, the first 
ambassador read, quite in a whisper, the 
following words of farewell, as repeated by 
the interpreter : 

"The exchange of the ratification of the 
treaty having taken place, and the time of 
our departure having arrived, we have 
come to take leave of your excellency, and 
to wish you continued health and prosper- 
ity. We may be allowed to-day to tender 
your excellency our heart-felt thanks for 
your friendly feelings on our behalf, and 
for the very kind treatment we have met 
with in Washington. 

It has been a source of gratification to 
us to visit several government institutions, 
where we have seen many things in which 
we have felt much interest. Of all this, 
and of our journej' home in the Niagara, a 
full account will be submitted by us, on 
our return, to the Tycoon, who will be 



greatly pleased by it, and who will always 
endeavor to strengthen and to increase the 
friendly relations so happily established 
between the two countries." 

To the speech of the ambassador, the 
president replied as follows : 

" The arrival of these distinguished 
commissioners from the Tycoon has been 
a very propitious and agreeable event in 
my administration. It is an historical 
event, which, I trust, will unite the two 
nations together in bonds of friendship 
through all time. 

The conduct of the commissioners has 
met my entire approbation, and the Tj'- 
coon could not have selected out of all his 
dominions, any representatives who could 
have more conciliated the good-will of the 
government of the United States. I have 
caused the secretar3' of state to prepare a 
letter of re-credence — a letter from under 
my own hand — to the Tycoon, stating my 
opinion of the manner in which they have 
performed, their business ; and a copy of 
that letter will be placed in their hands 
before their departure. 

I wish j'oua verj' agreeable time during 
the remainder of your residence in the 
United States, and a safe and happy return 
to j-our own country, under the flag of the 
American Union. 

I desire, for mj'self, to present to each 
of the commissioners a gold medal, struck 
at the mint, in commemoration of their 
arriv.al and services in this country. 

There have been several presents pre- 
pared for his imperial majesty the Tycoon, 
which will be sent to your lodgings in the 
course of the day." 

The embassy left the United States on 
the first of July, in the magnificent ship- 
of-war Niagara, carrj'ing with them, in 
addition to the treaty by which American 
commercial privileges in Japan were much 
extended, a large number of valuable gifts 
from our government, and the remem- 
brance of a visit in every respect happy 
and auspicious. The results of the mission 
were in the highest degree satisfactory to 
both governments, and naturally excited 
much interest on the part of other nations. 



LXXXVI. 

ARRIVAL AND EXHIBITION, IN NEW TORK, OF THE 
IRON STEAMSHIP GREAT EASTERN.— 1800. 



The Largest and Most Extraordinary Vessel ever Constructed. — Burden, Twenty Tliousand Tons; 
Length, Six Hundred and Eighty Feet. — Tens of Thousands of Visitors from all Parts of the 
Union.— Admiration of Her Miijestic Proportions, Ease of Movement, and Her Splendid and 
Powerful Machinery. — .Matchless Triumph of Ilunian Genius and Skill — " Wonders of the World," 
So Called. — Modern Achievements Pre-eminent. — Marvels of Steam Application. — First 
Crossing of the Atlantic. — Voyajje of the Savannah in 1818. — Curiosity and Wonder Excited. 
— Visited by Crowned Heads — Most Peculiar Reminiscences. — Uuilding the Great Western. — First 
Ret,'ular Ocean Steamer. — Iler Complete Success. — Growth of Ocean Sleam Transit. — Conception 
of the Great Eastern. — Her Nautical Peculiarities — Architectural Perfectiim. — Superb Appointments 
Throughout. — Working Power, Eight Thousand Horses. — Ship's Weight, Twelve Thousand Tons. — 
Rated for Four Tliousand Passengers. — Appearance in New Vork Harbor. — Salutes, Escorts, etc. — 
Greeted by Dense Throngs. 



" The KreatMt conqurkt of intellect over inanimate natter ond the blind forcet of nature, thot hu ever been achievci] by the humia 
nee."— SciE.sTiriu AUcBiua.h, auoust 4, ISU). 




»l 



li^SnKO^r)ER.S of the "World" was the title of a volume which, in days gone by, 
was eagerly sought by readers of both sexes and of almost every age, its contents excit- 
ing a degree of interest and admiration which, at this period, seems well-nigh fabulous. 
The "wonders" therein enumerated and described were seven, all of which pertained 
to the land of the orient and to the skill and craft of the ancients. They were as fol- 
lows: 

First, the Egyptian Pyramiils; the largest of these being nearly seven hundred feet 
square and five hundred feet high, and its base covering eleven acres. Second, the 
Mausoleum, erected to Mausolus, a king of Caria. by his widow, Artemisia; it was 
sixty-three feet long and thirty-five feet high. Third, the Temple of Diana, at Ephesus. 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



741 



This was four hundred and twentj'-five feet 
long and two liundred and twenty feet 
hroad. 

Fourth, the Walls and Hanging Gar- 
dens of Babylon ; said to have been walls 
eighty-seven feet thick, three hundred and 
fifty feet high, and sixty miles long. 

Fifth, the Colossus of Rhodes. This 
was a brazen statue of Apollo, one hundred 
and five feet high, standing at the mouth 
of the harbor of Rhodes. 

Sixth, the Statue of Jupiter Olympu.s, 
at Athens ; it was made of ivory and gold, 
and was wonderful for its beauty rather 
than for its size. 

Seventh, the Pharos of Ptolemy Philar 
delphus. This was a light-house, five hun- 
dred feet high, on the island of Pharos, at 
Alexandria, in Egypt. A fire of wood was 
kept burning on its summit during the 
night, to guide ships to the harbor. 

How much greater the wonders of mod- 
ern times ! Pre-eminently is this true of 
those marvelous discoveries and inventions 
which pertain to the application of steam 
to locomotion on land and water — the sub- 
ject of the present article, the construction 
of the Grejit Eastern and its memorable 
voyage to New York, furnishing the most 
magnificent illustration of the latter. 

It is an interesting fact, that, as earl}- as 

1818, American enterprise had inaugurated 
ocean steam navigation, — at least to such 
an extent as to demonstrate its practica- 
bility. This was the ship Savannah, of 
about three hundred tons, built in New 
York, from which place she sailed for 
Savannah, where she was owned, in March, 

1819. The trial trip was highly success- 
ful. The vessel then proceeded to Charles- 
ton, and after being lionized there for a 
short time, took James Monroe, then pres- 
ident of the United States, to Savannah. 
On the 26th of May, she sailed direct for 
Liverpool, making the passage in twenty- 
two days, partly by steam and partly by 
sails. She was commanded by Capt. Ste- 
vens Rogers. 

Several amusing incidents occurred in 
connection with this voyage of the Savan- 
nah, one or two of which, as related in the 



columns of a New York paper, will cer- 
tainly bear repetition. It appears that 
when the shij) was approaching Cape Clear, 
under steam, she was discovered by the 
officers of the telegraph or signal station, 
and was reported to the admiral in com- 
mand at Cork, as a ship on fire. The 
admiral at once dispatched a fast cutter, 
well manned, to her relief ; but great was 
their wonder at their total inability, under 
all sail and with a good breeze, to come up 
with "a shii^ under bare poles." After 
several shots had been fired from the 
cutter, the engine of the ship was stopped 
and the cutter permitted to approach, when 
her officers were invited on board to exam- 
ine and admire the new invention. Soon 
after dropping her anchor in the harbor of 
Liverpool, a boat, manned with sailors in 
naval uniform, commanded by a lieuten- 
ant, came alongside, and the officer, in a 
tone more authoritative than pleasing, 
demanded of the first man he saw — 

" Where is your master ? " 

" I have no master," reidied the Ameri- 
can. 

" Where is your captain, then, sir ? " 

" He is below, sir," was the reply. 

Captain Rogers asked the Englishman 
what he wanted. The officer replied, " My 
commander demands to know by what 
authority you wear that pennant, sir ? " — 
pointing with his sword to a coach-whip 
pennant flying at the main-mast head. To 
this the captain replied — 

"By the authority of my government, 
which is republican and permits me to do 
so." 

The officer then remarked that his com- 
mander considered it as an insult to him, 
and, commanding the American to haul 
down the pennant, intimated that, if it was 
not quickly done, he would be supplied 
with help. This was a little too harsh for 
Yankee spirit to endure, and Rogers in- 
stantly gave the order to haul down the 
coach-whip, and siippli/ its place with a 
hroad blue pennant, such as were worn by 
the commanders of squadrons in the Amer- 
ican navy, and ranking with the highest 
grade in that of the British, and then, in 



742 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



a loud tone of voice — so that he might be 
heard by the English — he directed the 
engineer to get the hot-water jtijjvs ready. 
This order had the desired effect, although 
there was no such apparatus on board, and 
the gallant lieutenant and his crew pulli'd 
for dear life. The hot-water jeers, which 
were subsequently leveled at these brave 
specimens of the British navy, caused 
them to start upon an early cruise. 

In Liverpool, the Savannah attracted 
great attention on the part of the authori- 
ties and citizens, and, as her fame spread 
to London, the crown officers, noblemen, 
and many leading merchants, visited her. 
The officers were very anxious to ascertain 
her speed, her errand, and her destination. 
It was suspected by some that her design 
was to rescue Kapolcon Bonaparte, then a 
prisoner at St. Helena. She was there- 
fore carefully watched by the British gov- 
ernment, and ships of war were stationed 
at certain points for that purpose. 

Proceeding to Copenhagen, the Savan- 
nah excited great manifestations of wonder 
and curiosity. On arriving at Stockholm, 
she was visited 113' the royal family, minis- 
ters of state, and naval officers, who, by 
invitation, dined on board, and took an 
excursion among the neighboring islands, 
with which they wore delighted, so easy, 
rapid, and strange, were the movements of 
the vessel. 

The Savannah next proceeded to St. 
Petersburg, where she was visited by the 
entire court, who tested her qualities by a 
trip to Cronstadt. So well pleased was 
the emperor, that the officers were treated 
with marked attention. They were in- 
vited to be present at a review of eighty 
thousand troops by the emperor in person; 
and a frigate of the largest class was 
launched on the "Camels," and taken 
down to Cronstadt, as an exhibition of the 
progress of the arts in Russia. The em- 
peror also solicited Captain Rogers to 
remain in the Russian seas with his 
steamer, offering him the protection of the 
government and the exclusive navigation 
of the Black and Baltic seas for a number 
of years. 



From St. Petersburg, the Savannah 
sailed for Arendal, in Norway, and thence 
to Savannah, making the passage in 
twenty-five days, thus ending the first 
voyage ever made across tlse Atlantic by 
the aid of steam. But, though the j)racti- 
cability of trans-oceanic steam navigation 
was, in effect, assured by this trip, — as 
well as by the steam voyages of the Cura- 
coa, which, in 1829, made two trips be- 
tween Holland and the West Indies, — sails 
were depended upon, to a considerable 
extent, by both vessels. The first perfect 
realization of this marvelous idea was not 
until some years later. The first keel laid 
exjiressly for an Atlantic steamship was 
that of the Great Western, of Bristol, 
England, which, in April, 1838, crossed to 
New York, and returned in May. She 
was preceded, at an interval of three days, 
by the Sirius, of Liverpool, a vessel not 
built for but adapted to this service. Each 
performed, without supjilies, above three 
thousand mile.s, at an average rate of two 
hundred and ten miles a da}'. 

lint, witliout going into a history of the 
splendid lines of trans-atlantic steamers 
which followed the auspicious inauguration 
above described, it may be said tliat the 
most magniticent conception and achieve- 
ment, the great wonder of modern times, 
in oceanic navigation, is to be found in the 
construction and performances of the 
steamship Great Eastern, the joint produc- 
tion of Mr. Scott Russell and Mr. Brunei, 
of England. 

A brief description of this most stu])en- 
dous and marvelous of steamships will here 
be given, and then an account of that 
memorable event — )icr voyage across the 
Atlantic, and arrival and exhibition in 
this country, which is the design of this 
article. 

With one or two exceptions, this mam- 
moth ship is (the description here given 
applies to the time when the Great Brit- 
ain was approaching completion) an ex- 
tended copy merely of all other iron 
steamers built on the wave-line principle. 
The most important of the exce]>tions 
alluded to is the cellular construction of 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



743 



the upper deck and the lower part of tlie 
hull, up to the water-line, or about thirty 
feet from her bottom, which is as flat as 
the floor of a room. This system, while it 
gives great buoyancy to the hull, increases 
her strength enormously, and thus enables 
her to resist almost any amount of outside 
pressure. Again, two walls of iron, about 
sixty feet high, divide the vessel longitu- 
dinally into three parts — the inner con- 
taining the boilers, the engine rooms, and 
the saloons, rising one above the other, and 
the latei'al divisions the coal bunkers, and, 
above them, the side cabins and berths. 

The paddle-wheels are fifty-six feet in 
diameter, and their weight one hundred 
and eighty-five tons. The engines for the 
paddle-wheels are oscillating engines, of 
one thousand nominal horse-power, with 
four cylinders, the weight of each cvlinder, 
including piston and piston-rod, Vieing 
thirty-eight tons. There are four boilers 
for the paddle-engine, seventeen feet nine 
inches long, seventeen feet six inches wide, 
thirteen feet nine inches high, and each 
weighing about fifty tons, and containing 
forty tons of water. The screw propeller, 
which is twent^'-four feet in diameter, and 
forty-four feet pitch, is b}' far the largest 
ever made. Its four fans, which were cast 
separately, and afterwards fitted into a 
large cast-iron boss, were compared to the 
blade bones of some huge animal of the 
pre-Adamite world. The weight of the 
screw is thirty-six tons. The propeller 
shaft, for moving the screw itself, is one 
hundred and sixty feet long, and weighs 
si.xty tons; the after-length of this shaft 
is forty-seven feet long, and weighs thirtj-- 
five tons. 

The screw engines are horizontal direct- 
acting, and of sixteen hundred nominal 
horse power. They are four in number, 
and are the largest ever made for marine 
purposes. The combined screw engines 
work up to an indicator-power of four 
thousand five hundred horses of thirty- 
three thousand pounds, when working at 
forty-five strokes a minute, with steam in 
the boiler at fifteen pounds, and the expan- 
sion valve cutting off at one-third of the 



stroke. They are, however, made to work 
smoothly, either at forty strokes per min- 
ute, with steam at twenty-five pounds, with- 
out expansion or at fifty-five strokes per 
minute, with the expansion cutting off 
at one-fourth of the stroke. Under these 
circumstances, they will be working at the 
tremendous power of six thousand five 
hundred horses. 

There are six masts, five of them iron, 
the after-mast wood. The standing rig- 
ging is seven and a half inch wire rope, 
except for the sixth mast, which is hemp 
rope. There is not a particle of iron about 
this mast, it being intended for the posi- 
tion of the compass. 

In the matter of accommodations, the 
Great Eastern is designed to carry eight 
hundred first-class, two thousand second- 
class, and one thousand two hundred third- 
class passengers, independently of the 
ship's complement, making a total of four 
thousand guests. For the convenience of 
these, there are whole streets and squares 
of apartments. The first thing that ar- 
rests the attention, on descending into the 
saloons, is the handsome and roomy en- 
trances and the spacious stairs. The first- 
class saloons and sleeping-cabins are in the 
fore-part of the center of the vessel, the 
second class abaft them, and the third 
class still further aft. The largest saloon 
is nearly one hundred feet long, thirty-six 
feet wide, and thirteen feet high. Above 
it are two other saloons, one above sixty 
feet long, and a smaller one, about twenty- 
four feet long, — the latter is a ladies' cabin. 
The sleeping-cabins are about fourteen feet 
long hy seven or eight feet wide, and seven 
feet four inches high. There are also six 
other saloons, with their different sleeping 
cabins, — the total length thus occupied by 
the cabins being more than three hundred 
feet. 

Having been thoroughly tested in re- 
spect to her sea-going qualities, the mam- 
moth ship was advertised to the travel- 
ing public in a poster only sixteen 
inches long, and of the following modest 
tenor : 

" Steam communication from Southamp- 



744 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S76. 







ton to New York. The stean)6hip 
" Great Eastern," 18,915 tons register, 
J. Vine Hall, commander, will be dis- 
patclifd to New York on Saturda)', June 
y, I860." Then followed a schedule of 
jjrices for passengers, luggage, freight, 
etc. 

Some delaj' attended the carrying out 
of the programme for her departure for 
the western world, but when, at last, 
that event took place, it wa.s witnessed 
by tens of thousands of enthusiastic 
spectators covering every available sj)ot, 
the scene being one of the grandest ever 
presented to the human e_ve. 

On tlie 28th of June, the s])lendid ship 
made lier ajijiearance in the liarbor of 
New York, reaching the light->liip at 
half-past seven in the morning. There 
she anchored; at two o'clock, in the 
afternoon, liigh water, she crossed the 
bar, and proceeded to the city, arriving 
at her dock at six p. M. The event 
created the greatest excitement through- 
out the city; business was generally 
neglected, and multitudes of people 
thronged the wharves and roofs to get 
a glance at the monster. 

Some account of the voyage will be 
interesting at this point. She left the 
Needles at ten o'clock in the forenoon, 
June 17th. AVith the exi'cjjtion of two 
days, she experienced fine weather. 
She steamed tlie entire passage, ranging 
from 254 to 333 miles jier twenty-lour 
hours. The engines were not stopped 
until she was off George's Shoal, for 
soundings. She came in a route south- 
east, direct to the light-ship, where she 
was boarded by the ship news-collector 
and Jlr. John Van Dusen, of pilot boat 
Washington. No. 4, a business partner 
of Ailniiral Murphy, who went out to 
Southampton for the ship. She drew 
twenty-seven feet of water aft, but was 
trimmed to an even keel before crossing 
the bar. The following is the number of 
miles made per day : June 1 7, 285 miles ; 
18th, 296; 19th, — ; 20lh, 276; 21st, 
304; 22d, 280; 23d, 302; 24th, 299; 
25th, 325; 26th, 333; 27th, 254. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



r45 



The highest speed attained was fourteen 
and a half knots ; but the ship's bottom 
being foul, an allowance of at least two 
knots an hour should be made on that 
account. The distance from Southampton 
is reckoned at three thousand one hundred 
and ninety miles, but to avoid the ice she 
went further south. 

The operation of crossing the bar was a 
delicate and critical one. The order was 
finally given by Mr. Murphy, under whose 
command the ship had now passed, to " Go 
ahead." The engineer waved his hand, 
the officer below repeated the order to 
those still further below, and in a minute 
the great wheels commenced their revolu- 
tions. The stupendous fabric yielded to 
the mighty power within her bowels, and, 
moving slowly on its way, commenced, as 
it were, a triumphal march toward the 
city. Gradually the point of danger was 
approached — the perilous bar was at hand. 
Speed was accordingly slackened, and iSIr. 
Murpliy f rem his position silently gave his 
orders. A simple elevation or depression 
of the hand indicated to the helmsmen the 
course to be pursued, and the ship under 
this skillful guidance — obeying her helm 
with almost the readiness of a sail boat — 
proceeded on her way. 

Passing Fort Lafayette, a salute was 
fired, which was promptly responded to 
from the four guns of the Great Eastern, 
and from this time onward, until her ar- 
rival in the North River, it was one con- 
tinual ovation to the distinguished stranger. 
Cannon boomed, steam whistles shrieked 
until almost wheez^', flags were dijiped in 
graceful welcome, people hurrahed, hand- 
kerchiefs waved, swift-fleeting j-achts dash- 
ed along in the huge shadow under a cloud 
of canvas, as if bowing in acknowledgment 
of the superior towering above them, and 
demonstrations of a kindly nature came 
from every quarter. Indeed, as far as the 
eye could see, the tops of houses in New 
York and its suburbs were thronged with 
people excited to the highest degree of 
curiosity and enthusiasm. The battery 
was fairlj' black with the dense multitude, 
and wharves, shipping, and every other 



foothold commanding a view of the scene, 
presented the same animated appearance. 

As the vessel neared the city, the interest 
of the occasion became, if possible, more and 
more manifest. Hundreds of little craft 
shot out into the stream, and fell in the 
wake of the Great Eastern. Looking down 
from herforetop — an elevation almost equal 
to that of the tallest ordinary mast — it 
seemed like a fairy spectacle on the grand- 
est scale. Below was the beautiful outline 
of the largest steamer in the world, gliding 
so majestically and quietly through the 
water that her motion was hardly percepti- 
ble, while behind, as far as the eye could 
reach — commencing with a few fast steam- 
ers at the stern — spread out the escort in 
the shape of an immense fan, every fold of 
which was quivering with beautiful life. 
"When nearly off the battery, the chimes 
of Trinity Church were heard across the 
water, playing " Rule Britannia." Sa- 
lutes, also, were fired from all the steamers 
in port, not excepting, of course, the 
Cunarders at Jersey City, which, on this 
occasion, did extra honors. 

Before landing, the Great Eastern pro- 
ceeded up the North River, as far as Forty- 
fifth street ; but the distance was hardly 
perceptible. Here, after some difficulty, 
she was turned and headed down stream 
for her dock, where, contrary to general 
expectation, she was at once moored. The 
manner in which this was done, reflected 
the highest credit on Mr. Murphy, the 
pilot ; and the reader can appreciate the 
daring nature of the undertaking by con- 
sidering the fact that the immense ship 
was carried alongside by the pilot — to the 
no small astonishment of every individual 
on board, including the officers, — with as 
much ease, apparently, as he would have 
handled his own pilot-boat, governed alone 
1)3' her own impetus, and without the aid 
oven of a single friendly hawser from a 
steam tug. Here she was made to touch 
the dock in a gentle way, clipping off only 
a s[)linter, comparativelj', as she came 
alongside : hawsers were got out, the pas- 
sengers' luggage was duly inspected and 
removed, a warm-hearted good-bye was 



746 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876, 



said all around, the company duparted for 
their respective destinations, and the 
Great Eastern quietly settled her huge 
body into its temporary rest. Strange to 
say, only forty-three passengers could be 
found in the 3'ear 1860 to "venture" on 
the first voyage of the most splendid sliip 
that ever floated in tlie ocean ; but this 
was owing, of course, to the novelty and 
vastness of tlie experiment, and to the 
serious doubts wliich had been so freely 
expressed from the ver}' first conccjjtion of 
the enterprise, as to the manageableness of 
such a vessel in a storm at sea. 

For many weeks, the Great Eastern was 
visited by tens of thousands of persons, 
who gladly paid the admission fee charged, 
to inspect the majestic structure. Tliey 
saw, in the Great Eastern, a ship twice as 
long (six Iiundred and eiglity feet) as the 
United States frigate Niagara, and nearly 
five times the tonnage (about twenty thou- 
sand) of that giant of the American navy. 
Four times up and down her deck will 
make a mile's walk, liuilt wholly of iron 
plates, the greatest possible amount of 
strength seemed to be thus attained. Eacii 
plate was separately designed by the 
builder, Mr. Brunei, and there are but a 
few amidsliips, out of tlie whole ten thou- 
sand, which resemble each other in shape. 
He made an exact pattern in wood of each ; 
steam shears cut the plates of iron to 
match, a steam roller curved them to suit, 
and a steam punch puuclied holes for 
the bolts ; these were applied at a white 
heat and riveted close — the contra-tion 
which occurred when they cooled draw- 
ing the plates together with irresist- 
ible force. Ten thousand tons of iron, in 
thirty thousand plates and three hundred 
thousand rivets, were employed in tlie 
construction of her hull. With accom- 
modations for four thousand j)assengers, 
she can carry instead, if need be, ten 
thousand soldiers, in addition to her crew 
of four hundred. 

Tiie weight of this huge ship being 
twelve thousand tons, and coal and cargo 
about eighteen thousand tons more, the 
motive power to propel her must of course 



be proportionate; and it was this feature 
in the majestic ship, not less than her 
immense si/e, which astonished the visitor. 
As he walked aft, and looked down a deep 
chasm near the stern, be perceived an 
enormous metal shaft, one hundred and 
sixty feet in length, and weighing sixty 
tons ; this extends from the engine-room . 
nearest the stern to the extremity of the 
vessel, and is what moves the screw. As 
the visitor next walked forward, and looked 
over the side, he saw the immense jiaddle- 
wheel, whicli, with its fellow, is driven by 
the four great engines, already described, 
having a nominal power of one thousand 
horses, the nominal horse-power of the 
screw being rated at sixteen hundred. 
The screw engines, when making fifty rev- 
olutions a minute, exert an effective force 
of not less than eight thousand horses. 
This gigantic force would drive the ma- 
chinery of fort}' of the largest cotton mills, 
giving emjiloyment to from thirty to forty 
thousand operatives. 

For several weeks, this grandest of nau- 
tical structures was the chief object of 
attraction in the United States, and was 
pronounced, by all, the most superb con- 
ception — the most wonderful achievement 
— of human mind and skill. Large excur- 
sion parties came from all the ]>rincipal 
cities of the Union, to view her lofty walls 
of iron, her stupendous machinery, and her 
marvelous internal arrangements ; and, in 
due time, ojiportunity was afforded those 
who wished to witness her sailing quali- 
ties, to be carried by the noble ship, on 
pleasure excursions to Cape May and else- 
where, — a jirivilege which thousands 
availed themselves of, including many per- 
sons eminent in nautical and scientific 
matters. 

One fact, for certain, in the construction 
and appointments of this mighty shiji, was 
made manifest to the satisfaction of even 
the most critical, namely, that no discov- 
ery or invention of modern times, cajiable 
of contributing to the ship's strength, 
safety, and jierfect completeness, was lost 
sight of. Thus, the observer saw that she 
was built in sixteen water-tight compart- 



GllEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



HI 



ments ; ten walls of iron, at distances of 
sixty feet from each other, dividing her 
transversely; and a longitudinal wall bi- 
secting her for about half her length ; — so 
that, in case of her running upon a rock, or 
being shattered by storms, there would still 
be safety on board. She is also lighted 



throughout with gas, made on board, and, 
on dark nights, an electric light shines 
from the maintop ; the anchor is weighed, 
the sails hoisted, and the pumjjs worked, 
by steam ; and electric telegraphs enable 
the captain to communicate instantane- 
ously with the most remote officers. 



LXXXVII. 

GENERAL WALKER'S FILLIBUSTERING EXPEDITIONS 
TO SONORA, NICARAGUA, AND HONDURAS.— 1860. 



Character, Methoil, ami Object of His Schemes. — His Movements Marked by Bloodshed and Bold 
Usurpation of Authority. — Uetreat, Capture, and Court-Martial at Tru.\illo — Cool liesignation to 
His Death Sentence — Solemn March to the I'lace of Execution. — Is Shot, and Instantly Expires. — 
Walker's " Star of Destiny." — Sliortsiglited Calculations. — Daring Qualities of the Man — Bitter Luck 
in Sonora. — Starvation : Iiiylorious Flight. — Nicaragua the Land of Promise. — Contempt of Neutrality 
Laws — United Slates Officials Outwitted. — Champagne vs. Handcuffs. — Battles at Rivas and Virgin 
Bay. — Splendid Successes of Walker. — Styles Himself" the Regenerator." — Treaty between General^ 
Walker and Corral. — Corral Charged with Treason and Shot. — Conihination Against Walker. — Ills 
Escape to the United States — New but Abortive Attempts on Nicaragua. — Turns Up Ne.xt at 
Truxillo. — Is Defeated by the Honduras Troops — His Doom Announced to Him. — Dying Declara- 
tions — A Volley; Three Cheers; the End. 



" Thoao wtiu accompanied me arc not to blame. I alone am guilty. I ask pardon of the people."— Walxed's Last Wouds. 



^Ktr- 





EXECUTION OF OKSEBAI. WALKER. 



;IXEI) and iniiiiovaMe in the belief tliai 
"star of destiny " would guide Iiiin to iilti- ' 
mate success as a military ron<]ui'ror and place tlio seei>- 
ter of power in his hand.s, \^'illiaIll Walker blindly misinterpreted the •■ luiiidwriting 
on the wall," wliich the successive defeats of his various fillibustering expeditions had 
made so obvious to thi> understanding of others. Few adventurers of his class ever ran 
such a race of short.'^ighted am] fatal folly, and, though not without admiring friends 
and followers, but little patriotic sympathy was evoked by the event which suddenly 
closed his career. 

The daring character of Walker as a fillibuster is a matter of astonishment, viewed 
from the jiresent point of time and histor}'. In October, 185.3, he was the leader of an 
expedition which sailed from San Francisco, with the intention of taking possession of 
Sonora, then a northern state of Mexico, adjoining California. He landed at a small 
place on the coast, called La Paz, with some fifty or sixty men, where he met but little 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



749 



resistance. He proclaimed " an independ- 
ent Republic of Lower California," and 
himself president, at the same time ap- 
pointing each one of his party to some 
official station. He very soon, however, 
had to evacuate the premises, to save him- 
self from starvation, escaping to San Diego, 
where he surrendered himself to the 
United States authorities. On his arrival 
in San Francisco, he was tried for a viola- 
tion of the neutrality laws, but was ac- 
quitted, the people in that part of the 
country sympathizing with him. 

Early in the summer of 1855, he placed 
himself at the head of an expedition, num- 
bering about sixty men, for Nicaragua, 
then in a state of internal conflict, and, 
notwithstanding the watch kept upon his 
movements by the government officials, he 
managed to get all his men on board the 
brig Vesta, which then L\y in the harbor 
of San Francisco, and to set sail during 
the night. The vessel was at this very 
time under seizure, and a deputy-sheriff's 
officer had possession. At midnight, on 
Monday, May 4th, Walker requested the 
sheriff's officer to step below to examine 
some documents in the cabin. The unsus- 
pecting official complied. The door shut, 
he was informed that he was a prisoner. 
In a slow, drawling voice. Walker said — 

" There, sir, are cigars and champagne ; 
and fliere are handcuffs and irons. Pray 
take, your choice." 

The deputy, a sensible man, took the 
former, and was in a happy frame of mind 
when he found himself being placed on 
board the steam-tug to be taken back to 
the scene of his official duties, — a wiser 
and more thoughtful man, doubtless. 

Walker landed at the port of Realejo, 
and marched to Leon to join the head- 
quarters of the Nicaraguan democratic 
party or army. The legitimists, however, 
though in a state of great consternation at 
the approach of American rifles, had pre- 
pared to give Walker a warm reception. 
Proclamations were issued with the object 
of rousing the patriotism of the people, 
calling on all to be readj' to take up arms 
to save the independence of the country, 



and ordering all the inhabitants, on the 
approach of Walker, to retire to the near- 
est garrison. 

The first conspicuous service in which 
Walker and his men were engaged was in 
an expedition which was formed by the 
democrats to recapture the town of Rivas. 
The expeditionary force consisted of 
Walker's men, and two hundred native 
troops under the immediate command of 
their own officers. They embarked at 
Realejo, in two or three small vessels, and, 
landing in the neighborhood of San Juan 
del Sur, marched across the country upon 
the town of Rivas, distant about twenty- 
five miles. The people of Rivas, when 
the legitimists re-took the town some 
months previously', had returned from 
their voluntary exile in Costa Rica, and 
now roused themselves to make a stout 
resistance. When the democrats arrived, 
and the fight began. Walker was inglori- 
ously deserted by all the native troops, 
and he found himself, with his fiftj'-six 
Americans, opposed to a force of nearly 
five hundred. His party, however, had 
taken up their position in a house, from 
which their rifles dealt sudden death most 
profusely ; but at last they expended their 
ammunition, and the legitimists setting 
fire to the house, they were obliged to cut 
their way through them, and retired to 
San Juan del Sur. The loss on Walker's 
side, in this affair, was only ten, while of 
his opponents one hundred and eighty 
were either killed or wounded. 

At San Juan del Sur they found a small 
schooner to take them back to Realejo. 
He and his men had all embarked quietly 
in the evening on board the schooner, 
which was lying in the harbor, and were 
waiting till morning for a breeze, when, 
about midnight, two Americans, who did 
not belong to the Walker party, and were 
well known to be desperate characters, set 
fire to a large wooden building which was 
used as a barrack; their object being to 
burn the town, and take the opportunity 
of the confusion to rob and plunder the 
inhabitants, expecting, no doubt, that 
Walker's party would join them. But, on 



750 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



going on board one of Walker's vessels, 
and boasting of what they had done, he 
imniodlately arresti'd them, and, as there 
were no authorities ashore to whom lie 
could hand them over, he had them tried 
by a court-martial at once, by whiih they 
were sentenced to be shot. One was shot 
while endeavoring to make his escape in a 
boat ; the other was taken ashore to be 
shot, where, in tlie darkness of the night, 
he managed to escape from his guards. 

About a month before this time. Gen- 
eral Chamorro, chief of the legitimist 
party, died, and was succeeded by General 
Corral, who had already been actually in 
command for some time. Walker did not 
attempt another descent upon that part of 
the country till the month of August, when 
he landed at San Juan del Sur, with about 
seventy-five Americans and two hundred 
native troops. There he met with no 
opposition, the forces of the legitimists 
being all concentrated in the town of 
Rivas. He shortly mardicd to the village 
of Virgin Bay, on the lake ; while there, 
he was attacked by a vastl}' superior force 
of legitimists under General Giiardiola. 
The fight lasted several hours, but Walker 
succeeded in driving them back to Rivas 
with considerable loss. After this, he 
again returned to San Juan del Sur. 

In the month of October, Walker — now 
holding a regular commission as com- 
mander-in-chief of the democratic army, 
and, having gradually augmented the 
number of Americans under his command 
to two hundred, and having a force of two 
hundred and lifty native troops, — pro- 
ceeded to Virgin Bay, and taking posses- 
sion of one of the Transit Company's 
steamers, he embarked his whole force. 
After a few hours' passage he landed liis 
troops about two miles from Granada, and 
marched directly on that stronghold of the 
legitimists. General Corral was in Rivas, 
with the greater part of his forces, expect- 
ing Walker would make that the first 
point of attack. The garrison in Granada 
were completely taken by surprise, and, 
after firing but a few shots. Walker had 
full possession of the city, and his power 



in Nicaragua was complete. Walker had 
always claimed to be the "Regenerator of 
Central Ainfricn." 

A negotiation was afterwards entered 
into, which resulted in a treaty of peace 
being agreed upon, and signed by Walker 
and Corral, as the representatives of their 
respective parties. By this treaty, it was 
agreed that the two governments which 
had existed in the countrj' since the com- 
mencement of the revolution, should cease. 




Don Patricio Rivas was declared provis- 
ional president for fourteen months, and 
Walker was made general-in-chief of the 
arinj' ; these, with four ministers to be 
appointed by the president, were to form 
the government. 

General Corral, a day or two afterwards, 
entered the city of Granada with his 
troops, and was received b^* Walker. The 
two generals then went through an impos- 
ing ceremon}' of soh'innly ratifying the 
treat}' in church. A Te Deum was sung, 
the legitimist troops were joined to the 
democrats, becoming one arnij' under the 
command of Walker, and the ministers of 
state were then announced. 

As the people found Walker to be a man 
of ability, and maintaining strict discipline 
among his troops, tranquillit^y soon pre- 
vailed throughout the land, the inhabit- 
ants being glad to see an end to those 
scenes of plunder and excess which had 
characterized the domestic struggles 
through which they had so often and so 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



r5i 



recently passed. And even foreign gov- 
ernments looked with satisfaction on the 
apparently improved state of affairs in that 
long distracted country. It was not, how- 
ever, to last long. A short time only, 
after Walker's old foe. Corral, had sol- 
emnly ratified the treatj-, he was charged 
by Walker with plotting to upset the gov- 
ernment. He was immediately tried by a 
court-martial, over which Walker liimself 
presided, and, being declared guilty, ho 
was sentenced to lie shot the next daj'. 
He was executed in the Plaza of Granada, 
in presence of the whole armj-. 

A few more military successes greatly 
emboldened Walker, and, having in the 
summer of 185G caused himself to be 
elected president, it was not long before 
he entered upon a career which brought 
him to an ignominious end. He revoked 
by a decree the prohibition of slavery 
which the country had observed for more 
than thirty years. He also revoked, with- 
out cause, the transit grant to the Nicara- 
gua Company, and seized steamers be- 
longing to American citizens. He made 
war upon Costa Rica, the result proving to 
his cause one of defeat, disaster, disap- 
pointment, and distress. The Nicara- 
guans and Costa Ricans combined against 
him, drove him from place to place, until, 
resistance becoming hopeless, he gladly 
availed himself of the refuge afforded bj^ 
the United States sloop-of-war St. Mar^', 
Commodore Davis, on board of which he 
and a number of his followers were re- 
ceived, in due time reaching the United 
States. 

^Valker's third and fourth expeditions, 
sailing from New Orleans and Mobile, and 
directed against Nicaragua, were hasty, 
ill-planned, and miserably failed. But 
tiiis did not deter Walker from undertak- 
ing one more scheme of conquest — in this 
instance directed against the Bay of Isl- 
ands, just then being ceded by Great 
Britain to Honduras. For, though Walker 
had long accustomed himself to look upon 
Nicaragua as the land which was to real- 
ize to him all his golden visions of wealth 
and power, there seemed now, even to his 



fertile imagination, no hope of ever again 
obtaining any such foothold in that coun- 
try as would lead to its subjugation. 

It is a mistake, too, to sujipose that in 
the management of those Nicaraguan ex- 
peditions, Walker was acting without pub- 
lic sympathy at the south and in Cali- 
fornia. The following account of the 
scenes and circumstances attending the 
embarkation of re-enforcements from San 
Francisco, to join Walker at Nicaragua, on 
the occasion already alluded to, will show 
that there was no lack of enthusiasm for 
his cause, at least in certain sections. 

The vessel (to convey the above-named 
re-enforcements) was advertised to sail at 
nine o'clock in the morning, but long be- 
fore that hour the wharf was crowded with 
spectators and those interested in the suc- 
cess of the expeditionists. Nearly four 
hundred through passage tickets were sold 
before the appointed sailing hour, and 
officers were stationed in every part of 
the vessel, with positive orders to allow 
no one on board unless provided with a 
passage ticket. There seemed to be no 
disposition to infringe this order, and 
everything went on quietly vintil about 
noon, when it was discovered that some of 
the passengers were in possession of arms 
lielonging to the San Francisco Blues' mil- 
itary corps. A search-warrant was imme- 
diately procured, and twentj'-nine muskets, 
identified by members of the company 
named, were recovered. During this in- 
vestigation, two large crockery crates, full 
of arms, were discovered, and which proved 
to have been taken from the armory of the 
Sacramento Rifle Company. General Kib- 
bee, of the state militia, being notified of 
the fact, at once instituted legal proceed- 
ings to recover the arms, but before the 
necessary documents could be procured 
and placed in the sheriff's hands, the hour 
— already extended to four o'clock in the 
afternoon — for the sailing of the steamer 
had arrived. As the lines holding the 
vessel to the wharf were cast adrift, there 
was some indication of trouble between the 
officers of the vessel and those persons on 
the wharf anxious to obtain passage. The 



752 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



wharf was densely packed with men, and 
at the first move of the steamer's paddles, 
a general rush was made to board her. 
The officers of the boat resisted, and the 
body of the crowd was driven back, at tlie 
imminent risk of their being crushed 
between the vessel and the wharf, or 
launched overboard. About fifteen or 
twent3' succeeded in getting on board, 
during this frightful scene, and the vessel 
shot out into tlie stream, where she came 
to, evidently with the view of compelling 



when she was ordered to keep off, and at 
the same time the steamer commenced 
moving ahead. It was now beyond the 
power of the schooner to work up to the 
position of the steamer until the latter 
would have sufficient time to send the 
intruders ashore and get under way again. 
Still the Schooner persevered, and stowl off 
for another tack. In the meantime, a 
posse of sheriff's officers, headed by Mr. 
Dowdigan, with the writ of restitution, 
had procured a row-boat for the purpose of 




LAKDINO OF OEKERAL WALKER'fl FILLIBU8TERINO EXPEDITIQK AT TRUXILI/}. 



those to return on shore who had suc- 
ceeded in boarding the vessel by force. 
By this time, the expeditionists, to the 
number of three hundred, had chartered a 
large schooner lying convenient to the 
wharf. This movement was seen on board 
the steamer, and as the schooner spread 
her canvas, the steamer's paddles were 
again put in motion ; but .she had not pro- 
ceeded far when she again lay-to. The 
schooner was now under full headway with 
a fine breeze, and, tacking quickl}', she 
came up under the lee of the steamer. 



boarding the steamer. This they were 
unable to accomplish, as the steamer got 
under way just as the sheriff's boat reached 
her side, and was soon under full head of 
steam, with her bows directed seaward. 
The schooner landed the disappointed 
expeditionists at (he wharf; and a large 
number of ships' launches and other small 
craft, filled with men who evidently in- 
tended to take the first opportunity to 
board the steamer, put back to the shore. 
It seemed to be the universal inipression 
that the schooner's load would be per- 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



T5B 



mitted to board, as it was rumored that 
they had by some means obtained pas- 
sage tickets just as the steamer left the 
wharf. This, however, proved erroneous. 
Among the number who attempted to 
lioard in small boats, was a man named 
Henry Gray, who strenuously persisted 
in his endeavors to get on board the 
steamer, although forcibly resisted by 
the officer. At last, Gray drew a revolver 
and pointed it at the officer, who also 
drew his pistol, when the boatmen in 
the boat with Gray covered his person 
with their own. 

In New York city, a mass meeting was 
held, at which the warmest speeches and 
resolutions of sympathy for Walker and 
his movements were indulged in. Even 
General Cass lent the scheme his warm 
support. " I am free to confess," he said, 
" that the heroic effort of our countrymen 
in Nicaragua excites my admiration, while 
it engages all my solicitude. I am not to 
be deterred from the expression of these 
feelings by sneers, or reproaches, or hard 
words. He who does not sympathize with 
such an enterprise has little in common 
with me. The difficulties which General 
Walker has encountered and overcome will 
place his name high on the roll of the dis- 
tinguished men of his age. He has con- 
ciliated the people he went to aid, the 
government of which he makes part is 
performing its functions without opposi- 
tion, and internal tranquillity marks the 
wisdom of its policy. That magnificent 
region, for which God has done so much 
and man so little, needed some renovating 
process, some transfusion, by which new 
life may be imparted to it." That some, 
at least, of the views thus so enthusiasti- 
cally expressed by the venerable statesman, 
failed of fulfillment, must be attributed to 
Walker's own injudicious acts, in the con- 
demnation of which none were more em- 
|ihatic than some of those who stood by his 
.>ide and shared his fortunes. 

But, as already remarked, Walker's ca- 
reer came to a speedy and inglorious ter- 
mination when he undertook to plant his 
standard of usurpation at Honduras. It 
4s 



was in June, 1860, that he first landed at' 
Ruatan, but finding things there not in &, 
very favorable position for the success of 
his movements, he jjioceeded to Truxillo, 
in the taking of which place he had three 
men wounded, while the loss on the other 
side was twelve killed and eighteen 
wounded, the determination of the in- 
habitants to resist and defeat Walker's 
schemes being very resolute. 

A proclamation was now issued by 
Walker to the people of Honduras, in 
which he said, that, more than five years 
ago, he, with others, was invited to the 
republic of Nicaragua, and was promised 
certain rights and privileges on the condi- 
tion of certain services rendered the state ; 
that the services required were performed, 
but the existing authorities of Honduras 
joined a combination to drive him from 
Central America. " In the course of 
events," continues Walker, " the people of 
the Bay Islands find themselves in nearly 
the same position the Americans held in 
Nicaragua, in November, 1855. The same 
policy which led Guardiola to make war on 
us will induce him to drive the people of 
the islands from Honduras. A knowledge 
of this fact has led certain residents of the 
islands to call on the adopted citizens of 
Nicaragua to aid in the maintenance of 
their rights of person and property ; but 
no sooner had a few adopted citizens of 
Nicaragua answered this call of the resi- 
dents of the islands by repairing to Ruatan, 
than the acting authorities of Honduras, 
alarmed for their safety, put obstacles in 
the way of carrying out the treaty of the 
28th November, 1859. Guardiola delays 
to receive the islands because of the pres- 
ence of a few men he has injured ; and 
thus, for party purposes, not only defeats 
the territorial interests of Honduras, but 
thwarts, for the moment, a cardinal object 
of Central American policy. The people 
of the Bay Islands can be engrafted on 
your republic only by wise concessions 
properly made. The existing authorities 
of Honduras have, by their past acts, given 
proof that they would not make the requi- 
site concessions. The same policy which 



1 54 



OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Guardiola pursued toward the naturalized 
Niiaraguans prevents hinj from pursuing 
the only course by which Honduras can 
expect to hold the islands. It becomes, 
therefore, a common object with tlie natu- 
ralized Nicaraguans, and with the people 
of the Bay Islands, to place in the govern- 
ment of Honduras those who will yield the 
rights lawfully required in the two states. 
Thus the Nicaraguans will secure a return 
to tlieir adopted country, and the Bay 
Islanders will obtain full guaranties from 
the sovereignty' under which they are to 
be placed by the treaty of the 28th No- 
vember, 1859." General Walker con- 
cludes this proclamation by assuring the 
people of Honduras, that it is not against 
them, but against the government, that he 
ha<l come to make war. 

Some of the representations made in 
Walker's proclamation will be better com- 
jirehended when it is understood that, at 
that time, Great Britain was just ceding to 
Honduras the Bay Islands; but some of 
the Anglo-Saxon residents of those islands 
objected strongly to such cession. Walker 
availed himself of this state of things to 
carry out his scheme of conquest, but, 
aware of his ]>lans, Honduras requested 
Great Britain to retain her hold upon the 
islands a while longer. 

It was not long before Walker had to 
confront an army of seven hundred men, 
headed by the governor of Honduras, and 
an English man-of-war lay near by with 
hostile intent. On the first of Sej)tember 
therefore, Walker retreated from Truxillo, 
and retired lower down the coast with 
about eighty men, the Honduras troops 
being in close pursuit. jVfter wandering 
down the coast, Walker finally encamped 
on the bank of the Rio Negro. 

On the third of September, two British 
cutters, carrying forty men, went up the 
river; and Captain Salmon, of the British 
man-of-war Icarus, accompanied by Gen- 
eral Alvarez, of the Honduran array, went 
ashore and walked to the house in which 
General Walker was, and asked an inter- 
view with him, which was granted. Cap- 
tain Salmon — a burly, bluff young British 



officer, of a very pompous and authoritative 
manner, — introiluced himself to General 
Walker, informed him that Her Majesty's 
sloop-of-war Icarus lay off tlie mouth of the 
river, and that anchored near her was a 
ship which had on board two hundred and 
fifty Honduran soldiers ; and he thereupon 
demanded the surrender of Walker and his 
command. 

General Walker, with characteristic cool- 
ness and dignity, contrasting strongly 
with the self-assurance of the British offi- 
cer, asked whether this demand was made 
by Captain Salmon as a British officer, and 
whether, if he surrendered, it would l>e to 
the British authorities ? To this inquiry 
Major Dolan and Captain West, who were 
present at the interview, solemnly asserted 
that Salmon replied, •' Yes, you surrender 
to me, as a British officer." The question 
was repeated by Walker, and the same 
answer given by Salmon, who rather 
haughtily and patronizinglj' added, " You 
may thank me, too, that you have a whole 
hone in your hojy." The general then told 
them that under these circumstances he 
would surrender. 

On the fourth, — General Walker and 
Colonel Rudler having been taken, the 
night before, under a guard, to the Icarus, 
— the sloop-of-war weighed anchor and 
steamed up to Truxillo, where she arrived 
that night. W'alker and Rudler were then 
formally delivered over to the Honduran 
authorities. 

The march of the captured men to prison 
was slow and solemn. \\'alker, at the 
head of his men, and dressed with much 
simplicity, marched, keeping time to the 
beat of the drum, and was the object upon 
which every eye was fixed. As soon as 
he entered the prison, he was placed in 
heavy irons, ami being asked if he needed 
anj'thing, replied with but one word — 
" Water." Soon afterward, he sent for a 
chaplain, and, declaring his faith as a 
Roman Catholic, knelt at the feet of the 
priest, in front of a small altar, on which 
the glimmering light of some candles 
faintly revealed an image of the Savior. 
Among other things he said to the chap- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



755 



lain, was the remark, •' I am resigned to 
die ; my political career is finished." 

On the eleventh, at seven o'clock in the 
morning, Walker was informed that the 
sentence of death had been passed upon 
him by the court-martial ; his only reply 
to the fatal messenger was his asking at 
what hour he would be executed, and if he 
should have time to write. On the twelfth, 
at eight o'clock in the morning, the con- 
demned man was marched to the place of 
execution. He showed, throughout, the 
greatest coolness, not even once changing 
color, while walking from the prison to 
the plaza where he was to be shot. Two 
soldiers, with drawn swords, advanced in 
front of him. and three, with fixed bayo- 
nets, followed behind. In his right hand 
he carried a hat, and in his left a crucifix, 
without looking at any one, and listening 
to the devotional passages which the priest 
was reciting to him. He entered the 
square, where, at the place of execution, 
the troops were drawn up, and there, before 
taking the fatal seat, he requested the 



priest in attendance, inasmuch as he him- 
self could not speak loud enough to be 
heard, to say : 

"I am a Roman Catholic. The war 
which I made on Honduras, at the sugges- 
tion of certain peojjle at Ruatan, was un- 
just. Those who accompanied me are not 
to blame. I alone am guilty. I ask par- 
don of the people. I receive death with 
resignation. Would that it were one for 
the good of society." 

He then sat down. A file of ten sol- 
diers advanced, and fired on the instant. 
He died at once. The soldiers gave three 
cheers, and all was over. 

Walker was but thirty-six years of age, 
at the time of his death. In personal 
appearance, he showed little of the type of 
a daring and capable fillibuster, being 
rather below the middle size, slender, with 
light hair, keen gray eyes, high cheek 
bones, — a man of exceedingly quiet de- 
meanor, slow in speech, and of a mild 
expression of face. His energy, persever- 
ance, and courage, were undoubted. 



LXXXVIII. 

TOUR OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, ALBERT EDWARD, 

PRINCE OF WALES, THROUGH THE UNITED 

STATES.— 1860. 



Friendly letters between President Buchanan and Queen Victoria on the Subject. — The Prince's First 
Entrance into American Waters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him. — Hunting Excursions, 
Military Reviews, Balls, Illuminations, etc. — Splendid Banquet at the White House — England's 
Appreciation of these Honors to Her Future King. — Heir to the British Throne — Arrival at Detroit, 
Chicago, etc. — Enthusiastic Crowds Greet Him. — His Way Completely Blocked Up. — On a Hunt: 
Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various Cities. — Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of Presi- 
dent Buchanan. — Courtesies and Ceremonials. — Visit to Mount Vernon. — At the Tomb of Washing- 
ton. — Unparalleled Historical Scene — He Plants a Tree at the Grave — Rare Scenes in Philadelphia. 
— New York and Boston Festivities — Present from Trinity Church, New York. — Greatest Balls Ever 
Known. — Ho Meets a Bunker Hill Veteran. — Impressions of America. — Incidents, Anecdotes, Inter- 
views. — His Looks, Manners, Dress, etc. — Brilliant Farewell at Portland. 



* You tiMj b« well uiured that everywhere in thil country he will be greeted by the Ainertcftn people in oueli n manuer u cannot fftil to 
t>egr«tifyinietoyour Mi.te*tv."— rRFSii>it?(T BucltANAM To QomN Victoria. 





I f[]l. BiKliaiian's closing pres 
' , I (lered memorable by thft 
* * Albert Edward, Prince 



presidential year was rcn- 
visit to this country of 
of Wales, who, being 
tile eldest son of Queen Victoria, and great 
grandson of George III., — the king who waged 
I'^ainst America the wars of 1776 and 1812 — 
laturally riveted all eyes, and excited univer- 
sal attention, as he journeyed from one part of 
I lie Union to another. At the time of this 
\ isit, the prince was in his nineteenth year; 
liad been educated at Oxford University, and 
w;i.< reputed a worthy son of a good mother, — 
and destined, on the death of the latter, to be 
King of the British realm. President Bu- 
chanan, having been informed of the Prince's 
intention to make a Canadian tour, addressed 
niE i-RixoB OF WALES AT wAsmxGToN'8 TOMB, tlic followiug Icttcr to thc Quceu, whlch was 
presented by Mr. Dallas, United States Minister at the Court of St. James : 
"To HEK Majesty, Queen Victokia : 
I have learned, from the public journals, that the Prince of Wales is about to visit 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



757 



your Majesty's North American domin- 
ions. Should it be the intention of His 
Royal Highness to extend his visit to the 
United States, I need not say how happy 
I should be to give him a cordial welcome 
to Washington. 

You may be well assured that every- 
where in this country he will be greeted 
by the American people in such manner 
as cannot fail to prove gratifying to your 
Majesty. In tliis they will manifest their 
deep sense of your domestic virtues, as well 
as their convictions of your merits as a 
wise, patriotic, and constitutional sover- 
eign. 

Your Majesty's most obedient servant, 
James Buchanaij." 

In reply to the foregoing highly courte- 
ous letter, dated at Washington, June 4, 
1860, Queen Victoria dispatched the fol- 
lowing most happily worded response, 
dated at Buckingham Palace, June 22d : 

" Mt Good Friend : 

I have been much gratified at the feel- 
ings which prompted you to write to me, 
inviting the Prince of Wales to come to 
Washington. He intends to return from 
Canada through the United States, and it 
will give him great pleasure to have an 
opportunity of testifying to you in person 
that these feelings are fully reciprocated 
by him. He will thus be able, at the same 
time, to mark the respect which he enter- 
tains for the Chief Magistrate of a great 
and powerful state and kindred nation. 

The Prince of Wales will drop all royal 
state on leaving my dominions, and travel 
under the name of Lord Renfrew, as he 
has done when traveling on the continent 
of Europe. 

The Prince Consort wishes to be kindly 
remembered to you. 

I remain ever, your good friend, 

VlCXOEIA R." 

It was on the 23d of July, 1860, that 
the prince arrived at St. Johns, N. P., 
and, after journeying for some weeks in 
the various British Provinces, where he 
was received with the most distinguished 
and enthusiastic attentions, he finally en- 



tered American waters, between Windsor, 
Canada, and Detroit, Mich. When the 
boat reached the center of the stream, the 
Mayor of Detroit stepped forward and 
said : '■^Baron Renfreiv, we welcome yon to 
the United States, trusting that your visit 
may be a hapjjy one — that you may long 
remember it with pleasure and satisfac- 
tion." At least fifty thousand persons 
were present, and when the band struck 
up The Star Spangled Banner, the cheer- 
ing and enthusiasm were tremendous. 

After witnessing a magnificent illumin- 
ation in his honor, the next morning he 
departed for Chicago. He was attended, 
as usual, by his somewhat numerous suite, 
the Duke of Newcastle being chief, A 
magnificent open barouche, drawn by four 
superb white horses, had been provided to 
convey him from the hotel. The party 
seated themselves in the barouche, when 
the immense crowd gathered around, and 
blocked up the avenues so thickly as to 
make it next to impossible to proceed. 
Cheer after cheer was given for the baron, 
and the wildest enthusiasm prevailed. 
The carriage was followed by prodigious 
throngs on foot, manj' hanging to the 
wheels, while the streets and sidewalks on 
the route were so obstructed by people, 
that the royal party were intercejjted at 
every turn. Arriving at Chicago, a vast 
assembly greeted him. Baron Renfrew 
rode along a line of excited people, — who 
were kept from him by ropes, — bowing, 
with hat off, amidst repeated cheers. As 
he passed, a rush was finally made, and, 
in spite of every effort of the policemen, 
the crowd surged in like the sea. Ar- 
riving, at last, at the hotel, five thousand 
persons were there found gazing at the 
windows, in almost perfect silence and 
order, waiting to see the prince's shadow 
even. Here, the most splendid honors 
and hospitalities were heaped upon him, 
exceeding anything of the kind ever be- 
fore known in that young and powerful 
city of the west. 

Leaving Chicago in a special train for 
Dwight's Station — from which place the 
prince was to start on a hunting excursion, 



758 



OUR FIRST CENTURV.— 1776-187G. 



— lie arrived tliert> at dark, on Saturday 
eyouing. The next day, the prince at- 
tended divine service at the Presbyterian 
rliurch. Ill the afternoon, a courier ar- 
rived with dispatches from the queen, and 
the party spent the rest of the day in read- 
ing their letters and answering tlieni. On 
MoikUiv tliey sliot prairie chickens ; on 
Tuesday, they went in pursuit of quail, 
and were very successful, tlie ])rince, who 
enjoyed the sport liighly. bagging over a 
hundred birds. His host, Mr. Spencer, 
an experienced hunter, pronounced tlie 
prince an excellent sportsman, handling a 
gun finely. The whole party di-essed 
roughly, and walked about the village 
smoking pipes in the most free-and-easy 
style. A couple of Irishmen called to see 
the prince, who welcomed and shook hands 
with them. Before leaving this place, he 
expressed his regret that he could not 
make his stay longer, and presented his 
hosts with several beautiful gifts, among 
which was "a Manton gun, etc. 

From this place he went to St. Louis, 
and thence to Cincinnati. When he 
landed at the former place, loud cheers 
greeted him, and the crowd surrounded his 
carriage to such an extent, that he was 
obliged to close the windows of the vehi- 
cle ; the carriages of the suite were also 
driven in opposite directions, to divide the 
throng. At the agricultural fair at St. 
Louis, the royal party passed twice around 
the arena, and then alighted in the center. 
After this, they ascended to the second 
story of the pagoda, where the band struck 
up God Save thf Queen. This was followed 
by Hail Columbia and Yankee Doodle. 

At Cincinnati, the prince attended a ball 
given at the opera-house, Saturday even- 
ing, and the next da}' attended worshiii at 
St. John's church, and heard a sermon 
from Bishop Mcllvaine. In the evening 
he dined with the ma^'or and other citi- 
zens. From Cincinnati the prince went 
to Pittsburg; dined at Altona ; and ar- 
rived at Harrisburg late in the evening of 
October 2d, where ho was received by Gov- 
ernor Packer, in the following unique and 
off-hand address of welcome : 



"Lord Renfrew, — It affords me infinite 
pleasure to welcome your lordship to the 
capital of the commonwealth of Pennsyl- 
vania, one of the old thirteen colonies that 
originally acknowledged allegiance to the 
crown of Great Britain, and, notwithstand- 
ing that allegiance has been severed, your 
lordship will perceive, by a glance at that 
long line of colonial and state governors 
(pointing to the portraits which adorn the 
executive chambers), that we still have a 
very, very great veneration and regard for 
our ancient rulers. That line of jwrtraits 
is almost a perfect type of our American 
families. We cannot follow our ancestry 
more than a few generations back, without 
tracing the line to a British red-coat." 

On tlie third of October, he left Harris- 
burg, early in the morning, for Baltimore 
and Washington. On his way, in descend- 
ing the mountain, the prince and his 
friends rode ui>on the locomotive, so as to 




obtain a better view of the magnificent 
scenery of the eastern slope of the Alle- 
ghanies, and expressed tliemselves much 
gratified with their ride. Declining any 
reception at Baltimore, the prince pro- 
ceeded at once to Washington. 

It would be as impossible to describe 
the varied honors and ccremoni;ds which 
were showered upon the prince during his 
stay in the nation's metropolis, as to detail 
the fetes, ovations, and multitudinous pa- 
geants, which attended him at every jain- 
cipal point along his journey from one end 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



759 



of the country to the other. Suffice it to 
say, in brief, tli;it at Washington he was 
received by General Cass, secretary of 
state, and two nephews of President Bu- 
chanan. He was at once conducted to tlie 
White House, where he was welcomed by 
the president. At six o'clock he dined, 
the members of the cabinet and one or two 
senators with their wives being of the 
party. On Thursday, October 4tli, the 
prince and suite visited the capitol and 
the patent office. A reception was given 
at the White House, at one o'clock, in 
honor of the prince, and an immense 
crowd was present. On this occasion, the 
prince was dressed in blue coat and gray 
pants, and, with ungloved hands, stood 
upon the right of the president ; near the 
prince stood Lord Lyons. As each person 
passed, the president shook hands with his 
customary urbanity, and the prince bowed 
as usual, though several ladies succeeded 
in shaking his hand. In the evening, a 
diplomatic dinner took place at the White 
House, at which were present a splendid 
array of high officials and foreign dignita- 
ries, the banquet being, in all respects, 
one of the most splendid of its kind ever 
given on this continent. 

The next day, tlie prince, with his suite 
and a distinguished company, visited 
Mount Vernon and the Tomb of Washing- 
ton. It was a scene never before enacted 
by any prince or potentate, — the heir to 
the proudest throne in the world making a 
pilgrimage to the tomb of a rebel general, 
one who, though once pronounced a traitor 
by the very ancestors of the prince, now 
ranks above all kings — the Father of a 
Country second to none. The day was all 
that could be desired, one of October's 
Knest. The prince and his suite, accom- 
panied by President Buchanan and other 
eminent persons, went on board the gov- 
ernment steamer Harriet Lane, and in 
a short time reached their destination. 
Having carefully inspected the various 
apartments of the mansion — the place 
where the patriot wrote, the room in which 
he slept, the bed on wliich he expired, and 
examined the key of the Bastile, the piano 



presented by Washington to Mrs. Lewis, 
and other relics and curiosities, the party 
then proceeded in silence to the great 
patriot's last resting-jilace. 

Approaching the hallowed spot, each 
one reverentially uncovered his head. The 
Marine Band had arrived before them, and, 
concealed by a neighboring thicket, began 
playing a dirge composed by the leader. 
The scene was most impressive. The vis- 
itors, ranging themselves in front of the 
tomb, looked in, through the iron-grated 
door, at the sarcophagus which contains 
the mortal remains of the illustrious chief- 
tain. Then, retiring a few paces, the 
prince, the president, and the royal party, 
grouped in front, silently contemplated the 
Tomb of Wasliington. 

Turning their attention once more to 
the surrounding grounds and scener}', one 
cut a cone to carry back to England, as a 
relic of the place ; another plucked a 
flower, as a memento of the day and scene ; 
and the prince, at the request of the 
Mount Vernon Association, planted, with 
but little formality, a tree, upon a beauti- 
ful little mound near the tomb, and took 
with him a companion seed to plant in 
Windsor forest. 

This pleasant commemorative ceremony 
being over, the visitors again stood for a 
few moments before the tomb, and then, 
turning away in thoughtful silence, slowly 
retraced their way to the Harriet Lane, 
which during their absence had been trans- 
formed, by means of canvas and gay tiags, 
into a beautiful dining saloon, with covers 
laid for the entire party. 

Going from Washington to Richmond, 
Va., he there attended St. Paul's churcli, 
on Sundaj', after which he visited Gov- 
ernor Letcher. Baltimore was the next 
place visited, and, after a drive around the 
citj', with the mayor, he left for Philadel- 
phia, on arriving at which city, he put up 
at the Continental. As he reached this 
hotel, an amusing incident transpired. 
He sprang out of his carriage with his 
usual agilitj', and, to avoid the crowd, 
rushed for the stairs, and into the arms of 
the superintendent of order, who, presum- 



760 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ing him to be an interloper, stopped him, 
and would not allow him to pass. In vain 
the prince struggled and kicked. The 
superintendent kept fast hold of the " in- 
truder," until Mayor Henry rushed up and 
relieved His Royal Highness from this 
international embrace. The superintend- 
ent bowed low, and begged pardon, but, 
with the natural tendency to self-defense, 
asked, "Why didn't he just speak?" 
"Oh," said the prince, running ahead, 
" that would have spoiled the joke." 

Some time before the prince arrived in 
Philadelphia, the ladies swarmed in large 
numbers to the Continental, to inspect the 
prince's splendid apartments, to sit where 
he was to sit, etc. They were escorted 
in and out of the rooms in parties of three 
and four, and seemed to feel easier after 
the visit. After his arrival, hundreds of 
people stood around the hotel all day. 
Some, indeed, mostly ladies, who had 
fought or bribed their way up stairs, hung 
around the door of hi.s apartments, and 
touched him curiously as he slipped past. 

The principal receptions of the prince, 
after his departure from Philadelphia, were 
at New York, West Point, and Boston ; 
but no account of these receptions, short 
of an elaborate volume, would be equal to 
their variety, extent, and magnificence, 
and conse<pently only a few incidents can 
be here narrated. 

While at New York, he attended w^or- 
ship at Trinity church, three front pews 
in the center aisle being reserved for the 
prince and .suite. In one of them, and 
immediately in front of the prince's seat, 
two magnificent prayer-books were depos- 
ited, the one a small octavo .size, the other 
a half-fjuarto. They were both got up in 
the most perfect style of typographical art, 
and the skill of the binder had e.xhausted 
itself on the exterior decorations. The 
large one was bound in bright red morocco, 
and was fastened by a golden clasp, 
chastely embellished with filigree work, 
and finely worked with the Prince of 
Wales's plume and his motto " Ich Dien," 
("I serve.") The clasp alone cost two 
hundred and fifty dollars. On its outer 



cover, the book bore this inscription : '• To 
His Royal Highness, Albert Edward, 
Prince of Wales, from the Corporation of 
Trinity Church, New York, in Memory of 
the Munificence of the Crown of En- 
gland." 

At the Academy of Music, October 12th, 
there was given the greatest ball, in honor 
of the prince, ever known in this country. 
Over three thou.sund persons were present 
— the creme de la creiiie of New York soci- 
ety. The ball-room coui]irised the par- 
quette of the academy, and embraced the 
stage. It was one hundred and thirty-five 
feet in length by sixt^'-eight feet in breadth. 
The end toward the stage was arranged in 
a semi-circular form, while toward the 
other end were placed three superb couches. 
The central one was for the prince, while 
those on either side were for his suite. 
The decorations were floral throughout the 
ball-room. The scene was magnificent 
There was a sea of heads in a sea of colors 
— the light flashing back from the gayest 
and richest of dresses, from pearly white 
shoulders and brilliant comjilexions, and 
from jewels iris-hued and rivaling the stars 
in brightness. The full-dress black coats 
absorbed the superfluous light, and softened 
the blaze of the thous.-ind lamps. The 
rich military uniforms, ornamented with 
golden lace and epaulettes, relieved the 
uniformity of the gentlemen's toilets. 

While the royal ])arty were observing 
the throng and the decorations of the 
room, a sudden rustle and movement of the 
crowd backward indicated that some acci- 
dent was about to happen, and, in a mo- 
ment after, one of the flower vases upon 
the front tier fell with a great crash to the 
floor, scattering its roses upon all who 
stood near. 

The su]tper-room was especially- erected 
for the occasion, and its length was one 
hundred and forty-four feet, by twenty- 
eight feet breadth. The entire vast apart- 
ment was draped in alternate strips of pink 
and white muslin, with twenty-four .splen- 
did mirrors intervening; magnificent 
chandeliers, suspended from the roof, con- 
tributed to the brilliancy of the display. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



761 




GRAND BALL GIVEN TO THE PRINCE OF WALES, IN BOSTON. 



All along the supper-ioom were two tables, 
jforgeous in all the appointments of gold, 
silver, and china ware, and the feast was 
iiiagnificent. 

It was at first contemplated to give the 
prince a grand piililic dinner, but this was 
changed to a ball, because the prince, being 
so young a man, could not be expected to 
make an extemporaneous speech, and eti- 
(juftte forbade any one speaking as his 
substitute. 

From New York, the prince sailed in the 
government steamer Harriet Lane, for 
West Point. Here he was received with 
the highest honors known to the military 
service ; and after visiting the command- 
ant, and riding round the place, he ac- 
cepted an invitation to review the cadets. 
Eight battalion companies of cadets, eleven 
files front, presented themselves on the 
right of the line; then the company of 
sappers and miners ; then the battery of 
four guns of light artillery, with a corps of 
cadets acting as cannoneers ; and the left 
was occupied by a detachment of dragoons. 



In a few minutes after the formation of 
the line, the prince and suite, with Lieu- 
tenant-General Scott, appeared on the 
parade ground, when Major Reynolds gave 
the order to " Prepare for Review." The 
ranks of the troops were opened, the artil- 
lery unlimbered, the officers and colors to 
the front, when the reviewing party 
marched to the head of the military col- 
umn, while the band placed the air of 
God Save the Queen. As the prince and 
escort passed down the military line, the 
band played the very elegant air of the 
Flowers of Edinburgh. The reviewers 
passed down the front, and between the 
open ranks of the troops, back to their 
original position on the parade ground. 
The troops were then broke into column 
by companies and marched in review — 
first in common time, then in quick time, 
and finally in double quick time. As the 
commandants of the companies passed and 
saluted the prince, he gracefully raised his 
hat in acknowledgment. 

Leaving West Point, the prince pro- 



762 



OUR FIRST CENTURV— 177G-1876. 



ceeded to Albany, wliere he was received 
bj' Governor Morgan and the state author- 
ities. After spending an hour or two at 
the capitol, lie repaired to the governor's 
residence, and dined there, Mr. Seward 
and others being guests. The next day 
he took a special train for Springfield, 
Mass., and thence to Boston. He was 
conducted to his (|uartt'rs by the Boston 
authorities, an immense crowd following. 
The principal occasions of interest, while 
stopping in Boston, were as follows : On 
Thursdaj- he witnessed a great political 
procession , then received Ralph Farnhani, 
the survivor of Bunker Hill battle ; re- 
viewed the troops on Boston Common ; 
attended a children's musical entertain- 
ment at the music hall ; and went to the 
ball in the evening. On Friday, visited 
Harvard college, and examined all the 
objects of interest at that venerable seat of 
learning; and subsequently' visited Mount 
Auburn, Bunker Hill, and the Charles- 
town navy yard. 

A ver}' interesting interview was that 
with Ralph Farnham. The Duke of New- 
castle, who, with most of the suite, was 
present, asked the revolutionary veteran 
if he saw Bnrgoyne when he surrendered, 
adding, " You rather had him there I '" 
The old soldier then remarked, chucklingly, 
that hearing so much said in praise of the 
prince, he began to fear that the peo]»le 
were all turning royalists. This and Mr. 
Farnham's manner elicited much laughter, 
in which the prince fully joined. The 
prince then sent for pen and ink, and 
exchanged autographs with his visitor — 
one of the men who had stood before Brit- 
ish soldiers in 1776, in a manner and with 
a bearing very different from that with 
which he received the prince's courtesies 
and exchanged glances with the majors, 
colonels, anil guardsmen of the royal suite. 
Mr. Farnhani afterwards spoke of the 
interview with the greatest pleasure, ri>- 
marking that " he wished to show the boy 
and his soldiers that he bore no anger for 
(lid times.'' 

The musical festival was a novel and 
pleasant entertainment, at Music Hall. 



Twelve hundred school children were ar- 
ranged upon .seats sloping from the floor to 
the ceiling, and from the platform one 
could see two large triangles of boys, and 
two immense parallelograms of gayly- 
dressed girls, while between them wa.s an 
orchestra of sixty performers. As the 
prince entered, the whole company rose, 
and the masses of children waved handker- 
chiefs and clapjied hands, producing a fine 
i effect. 

A grand success, too, was the ball, given 
at the Boston Theater, — not exi'eeded in 
splendor by that in New York. If one 
can imagine the immensity of this thea- 
ter ; the dancing floor inclosed as by a 
pavilion, each tier differently and most 
richly decorated, and crowded with su- 
perbly dressed ladies ; the royal box all 
aglare with light, and rich in gilt, purjde. 
and azure; the frescoed ceiling, with its 
pendant dome of light, the marquee, with its 
groves, flowers, mirmr.-, arabesque ceiling, 
its multiform and varied decorations, and 
its view of Windsor Castle, seen as if from 
some immense window ; — if one can imag- 
ine this scene, and then crowd it with 
richly dressed ladies, with gentlemen in 
every variety of ball costume, while, over 
all, the lights streamed their brilliant 
radiance, mirrors and jewels flashing back 
and reduplicating the rays, and the .soft, 
sweet swell of the music be:iriiig with it 
the graceful moving throng in a bewilder- 
ing maze of beauty, an adequate idea of 
the magnificent occasion may possibly be 
gained. 

Curiously enough, the Boston ball oj>- 
ened something like that in New York; 
for all the committees, being anxious to 
speak to the prince, and leaning forwanl 
to do 80, crash went a large vase of flowers, 
scattering its contents over the prince. 
There were profuse apologies, but the 
prince was laughing .'<o heartily, that he 
could not hear imr speak. 

The prince's apjireciation of American 
ladies was very marked. At the Boston 
ball, he remarked slyly tr) a beautiful 
belle, "They made me dance with the old 
chaps in Canada." At Montreal, he 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



763 



danced with Miss Blackburn, of Natchez, 
a lady of great beauty ; so enchanted did 
the prince become, that he afterward in- 
quired for her and expressed a desire to 
meet again. Among those with whom he 
danced, at the Cincinnati ball, was the 
beautiful Miss Groesbeck, daughter of 
Hon. John Groesbeck. The reporters 
represent that Miss Groesbeck, who was 
the belle of the evening, wore a white 
tulle dress, puffed to the waist, low neck, 
but wore no jewelry ; her mother, however, 
wore elegant diamond ear-drops, rings, and 
]iins. When, therefore, one of the officers 
of the evening announced to Miss Groes- 
beck that she was to be honored with the 
prince's hand for the second dance, Mrs. 
Groesbeck quietly took off her own jewelry 
and passed them to her favored daughter ; 
the latter declined them. Her mother 
insisted; but Miss Groesbeck, with equal 
determination, positively refused to wear 
any kind of ornament other than her sim- 
ple dress and the wealth of beauty which 
Nature had bestowed on her. 

It is not exaggerating, to say that the 
prince made an agreeable impression 
wherever he went. He was described by 
one of the newspaper reporters, as follows : 
"He seems to be about live feet four inches 
high ; his eye is beautifully blue, mild, 
funny, clear, and jollj- ; his nose is well 
defined, not perfectly straight, but clean- 
cut and prominent ; his mouth is full, and 
his chin retreats wonderfully. His coun- 
tenance indicates a happj' dispositioned, 
good-natured, humorous, fun-loving boy, 
who knows what he is about, and can't 
easily be fooled. His hair is soft and fine, 
though disposed to grow rather low down 
the neck and on the forehead, whilst his 
head is well shaped, and would indicate 
firmness, benevolence, quickness of percei> 
tion, and love of music. The very, verj' 
large hands and feet of the young gentle- 
man are but reproductions of those of his 



royal mother, to whom Dame Nature has 
been very generous in that regard. His 
form is small and very w^ell proportioned, 
and his bearing is dignified, manly, and 
modest." His dress varied mueli, of 
course, with the place and occasion, but 
was alwaj's simple, elegant, and appro- 
priate. 

Portland, Me., was the place from which 
the illustrious guest of the nation took his 
departure for England. As the royal 
barge left the wharf to convey the prince 
to the Hero, the British squadron all fired 
a roj'al salute of twenty-one guns, and sim- 
ilar salutes were fired from the city and 
from Fort Preble. The harbor was full of 
steamers, sail-boats, barges, etc., which 
accompanied the royal barge from the 
wharf. As the flotilla neared the royal 
squadron, the yards were manned, and this, 
with the strings of bunting and flags flying 
from every point of the fleet, formed a 
magnificent spectacle, which was witnessed 
by an immense concourse of people. To 
all the parting salutations, the British 
ships responded by dipping their colors ; 
and, as the squadron sailed, the bands on 
board each vessel played Yankee Doodle, 
and Fort Preble saluted the party with 
farewell guns as they passed. 

So heart-felt, generous, and enthusiastic 
a reception of the prince, in America, pro- 
duced the highest satisfaction throughout 
England. The queen, at an early day, 
caused to be officially communicated to the 
president and to the people of the United 
States, "her grateful sense of the kindness 
with which they received lier son ; " the 
hospitality shown him was warmly com- 
plimented in parliament; and Prince Al- 
bert, as chancellor of the University of 
Cambridge, directed that the annual gold 
medal there given for the encouragement 
of English poetry, should, that year, be 
awarded for the best poem on "The Prince 
of Wales at the Tomb of Washington." 



LXXXIX. 

BOMBARDMENT AND REDUCTION OF FORT SUM- 
TER.— 1861. 



Inauguration of Civil War in the United States. — First Military Act in the Long and Bloody Struggle 
to Dismember the Union. — Organization of the Southern Confederacy. — President Lincoln's Procla- 
mation for 75,000 Volunteers. — Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People — Calling the liattle-Roll 
of the Republic. — Supreme Crisis in the Fate of the Nation. — Northern and Southern Variances. — Slav- 
ery the Cause of Contention. — Culmination of the Antagonism. — Disunion the Banner of the South. 
— Secession of Several States. — War Wager Boldly Staked. — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal 
Property Seized at the South. — Batteries Erected at Charleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. 
— Beauregard Demands its Surrender. — Major Anderson's Flat Refusal. — Weakness of His Garrison. 
— Attempts to Reenforce It — Prevented by Confederate Batteries. — All Eyes Riveted on the Fort. — 
Opening of the Attack, April 14th — Incessant and Tremendous Fire. — Terms of Evacuation Accepted. 
— Southern Rejoicings. — The Great Military Outlook. — Washington the National Key. 



" Can either of yon to-dajr name one iingk- act of wronc, delibentlely and purposely done by the povemment at Waahlnittfin, of which 
thi South hae a right to complain ? 1 challenge an aoawer."— Uoif. Alex. U. BTipnEMS, BCroRe tub Oboboia Bbcbsbiok Cobtbk* 

Tiny. 




IGHTY-FOUR years hud now 

.<ped their course, since the 

republic of the United States, 

with the immortal Din-lara- 

tion of Independence as its Magna Char- 

ta of sovereignty, took a place among 

tlic govornniputs of the curtli as a free 

and independent nation, and, during all 

that long period, the federal armies had 

been called to f.ace — with but an occa- 

.sional local and transient exception — 

only external or savage foes. Party 

..-..Ar. OF FORT .SCMTEB.AKrEl. ...K ,.OMI.AItI..M F.N T. ^p.^.^ j^ j^ ^^^^^^ J^^^J ,,^4 UnfrtH|Uently 

ran high, and hurled defiance at law and its administrators, and at times, the strain 
upon the ship of state seemed near to jiroving its destruction ; but forbearance, com- 
promise, fraternity and jiatriotism, smoothed the rough waves of contention, and j)eace 
regained her benign sway. 

But the long existing and bitter antagonism of opinion on the subject of slavery, 
between the North and the South, culminated at la.st — on the inauguration of Mr. 
Lincoln as president, in 1861. — in a civil w.ar. the extent, duration, and horrors of 
which have never been paralleled in any age or among any people, since the world 



i 



GREAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 



765 



begau. In vain did President Lincoln de- 
clare, in his inaugural, bis opposition to 
any interference with slavery in the states 
where it existed, in vain were assurances 
to the same effect proffered by the party 
that had just triumphed in the presiden- 
tial contest, and in vain were conferences 
and consultations held by the leading 
statesmen and politicians of different sec- 
tions, with a view to avert the calamity of 
war. 

Intent on a separate national existence, 
under which they might maintain unmo- 
lested, as well as extend, the institution of 
slavery, the southern states recalled their 
senators and representatives from congress, 
flung out the banner of Secession — which 
was the wager and signal of War, — and, 
as an initial step, commenced the seizure 
of United States custom-houses, arsenals, 
forts, and other public property, within 
their borders. 

First in order of importance, in this 
startling programme of overt acts, was the 
movement of the authorities of South Car- 
olina to possess themselves of Fort Sum- 
ter, in Charleston harbor, before opportu- 
nity should be gained by the national 
government to re-enforce its scanty re- 
sources of men and provisions. To this 
end, extensive batteries were erected on 
the shores opposite the fort, by means of 
which, any ordinary naval force which the 
federal authorities then had available for 
conveying supplies, could easily be crippled 
in attempting such assistance. 

In this besieged condition, the brave 
and loyal commander of the fort, Major 
Robert Anderson, and his true-hearted 
men, were kept for several weeks, with the 
eager eyes of millions of admiring coun- 
trymen riveted upon them. The vessel 
which was finally dispatched by the navy 
department for their relief, was shelled by 
the batteries and compelled to return 
without fulfilling her mission. This was 
done in accordance with the orders received 
from the secession authorities at Mont- 
gomery, Ala., where a government styled 
the Confederate States of America had 
been formally established, with Jefferson 



Davis as president, and which was to as- 
sume all the responsibility and direction 
of that mighty struggle through which, as 
they expected, southern independence was 
to be secured, and the Republic of the 
United States rent in twain. 

After various official preliminaries, on 
either side, but without arriving at any 
satisfactory understanding, a demand was 
made, April 11th. by General Beauregard, 
commander of the insurgent batteries, for 
the surrender of the fort. This demand 
was declined by Major Anderson — all the 
officers having been consulted by him in 
regard to the summons. At about three 
o'clock, on the morning of the 12th, notice 
was given that fire would be opened on the 
fort in one hour, unless the demand to 
surrender was instantly complied with. 
Major Anderson resolved not to return fire 
until broad daylight, not wishing to waste 
any of his ammunition. From the state- 
ments made by the officers of Fort Sumter, 
it appears that fire was opened upon the 
fort from all points at once, and, to the 
astonishment of its defenders, a masked 
battery of heavy columbiads opened on 
them from that part of Sullivan's Island 
near the floating batterj-, of the existence 
of which Major Anderson had not the 
slightest intimation. It was covered with 
brush and other materials, which com- 
pletely concealed it, and was skillfully con- 
structed and well secured. Seventeen 
mortars, firing ten-inch shell, and thirty- 
three heavj' guns, mostly columbiads, were 
engaged in the assault. The crash made 
by the shot against the walls was terrific, 
and many of the shells took effect inside 
the fort. The inmates took breakfast at 
half-past six o'clock, leisurely and calmly, 
after which the command was formed into 
three reliefs, equally dividing the officers 
and men. The first relief was under the 
command of Captain Doubleday, of the 
artillery, and Lieutenant Sn3'der, of the 
engineer corps. This detachment went to 
the guns and opened fire upon the Cum- 
mings's Point battery, Fort Moultrie, and 
Sullivan's Island. The lion Battery was 
of immense strength, so that most of the 



766 



OUlt FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Bhots from Fort Sumter struck and glanced 
off again. The fire was so terrible ou the 
panipt-t of Fort Sumter, that Major Andi-r- 
son refused to iillow tiic men to man the 
guns. Had they been permitted to do so, 
every one of them would have been sacri- 
ficed. Fort Moultrie was considerably 
damaged by the cannonailing from Fort 
Sumter, a great manj^ shots having taken 
effect on the embrasures. .■V new English 
rifled gun, which was employed by the 
insurgents, was fired with great accuracy, 
several of its shots entering the embra- 
sures of Fort Sumter, and one of them 
slightly wounded four men. 




Tlic reliefs were changed every four 
hours, and the men owed their safety to 
the extraordinary care exercised by the 
officers in command. A man was kept 
constiintly on the look-out, who would cry 
' shot,' or ' shell,' at every shot the enemy 
made, thus affording the men exposed 
amj)le opportunity for shelter. -The gar- 
rison was lamentably weak in numbers ; 
but the workuK-n, though at first rather 
reluctant to assist the .soldiers in handling 
the guns, gradually took hold aixl rendered 
valuable assistance. Indeed, but few shots 
were fired before every one of them be- 
came desperately engaged in the conflict. 
They had to abandon one gun, on account 
of the clo.se fire made uimn it. Hearing 
tiie fire reiu-wed with it. however, an offi- 
cer went to the spot, and there found a 
party of workmen still employed in serving 
it. One of the workmen was stooping 



over it with his hands on his knees, con- 
vulsed with joy, with the tears rolling 
down his powder-begrimmed cheeks. 
"What are you doing here with that 
gun ? " the officer asked. " Hit it right 
in the center," wa*i the reply, — the man 
meaning that his shot had taken effect in 
the center of the floating battery. 

The aim of the insurgents was particu- 
larly directed at the flag-staff, from which 
waved proudly the stars and stripes ; and, 
after two days' incessant firing, the flag- 
staff was finally shot away. The effect 
of such continuous firing was terribly 
damaging. •' One tower," says one of 
the garrison, " was so completely de- 
tnolished that not one brick was left 
standing upon the other. The barracks 
cauglit tire on the first day several times, 
but in every instance was j)Ut out by Mr. 
Hart, of New York, a volunteer, who par- 
ticularly distinguished himself for his 
coolness and bravery. On the second day, 
the barracks caught fire from a ten-inch 
shell, and the danger to lie encountered in 
the attempt to extinguish it Vteing so great, 
the major concluded not to attempt it. 
The effect of the fire was more disastrous 
that we could have stipposed. The subse- 
quent shots of the enemy took more effect 
in consequence; the walls were weakened, 
and we were more exposed. The main 
gates were destroyed by fire, thus leaving 
tis exposed to the murderous aim of the 
enemy. Five hundred men could have 
formed on the gorge, and marched on us 
without our being able to oiii)Ose them. 
The fire spread around the fort on all sides. 
Fearful that the walls might crack, and 
the shells pierce and prostrate them, we 
commenced taking the powder out of the 
magazine before the fire had fully envel- 
oped it. We took ninety-six barrels of 
powder out, and threw them into the sea, 
leaving two hundred barrels in. Owing 
to a lack of cartridges, we kept five men 
inside the magazine, to sew them up as we 
wanted them, thus consuming our shirts, 
sheets, blankets, and all the available ma- 
terial in the fort. When we were finally 
obliged to close the magazine, and our 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



767 



material for cartridges was exhausted, we 
were left destitute of any means to con- 
tinue the contest. We had eaten our last 
biscuit thirty-six hours before. We were 
very nearly stifled with the dense smoke 
from the burning buildings. The men lay 
prostrate on the ground, with wet hand- 
kerchiefs over their moutlis and eyes, gasp- 
ing for breath. It was a moment of immi- 
nent peril. If an eddy of wind had not 
ensued, we all. probably, would have been 
suffocated. The crashing of the shot, the 
bursting of the shells, the falling of walls, 
and the roar of the tlames, made a Pande- 
monium of the fort. We nevertheless 
kept up a steady fire. Early in the after- 
noon of the 1.3th, ex-senator Wigfall, of 
Texas, — who liad become an officer in the 
Confederate military service, — seeing the 
inequality of the contest, made his appear- 
ance at one of the embrasures with a white 
handkerchief on the end of a sword, and 
begged for admittance. He asked to see 
Major Anderson. While Wigfall was in 
the act of crawling through the embrasure, 
Lieutenant Snyder called out to him, 
" Major Anderson is at the main gate." 
He passed through the embrasure into the 
casement, paying no attention to what the 
lieutenant had said. Here he was met 
by Captain Foster and Lieutenants Mead 
and Davis. In an excited manner he 
said — 

" Let us stop this firing. You are on 
fire, and your flag is down. Let us quit." 

"No, sir," replied Lieutenant Davis, 
"our flag is not down. Step out here, and 
you will see it waving over the ramparts.'' 

" Let us quit this," said Wigfall ; 
'■ here's a white flag— will anybody wave 
it out of the embrasure ? '' 

" That is for you to do, if you choose," 
replied one of the officers. 

" If there is no one else to do it, I will," 
•said Wigfall. 

He immediately jumped into the em- 
brasure, and waved the flag towards Fort 
Moultrie. The firing, however, still con- 
tinued from Moultrie and the batteries of 
Sullivan's Lsland. In answer to his re- 
peated request, one of the officers said 



that one of Sumter's men might hold the 
flag, and Corporal Binghurst jumped into 
the embrasure. The shot continuing to 
strike all around him, he leaped down 
again, after having waved the flag a few 
moments, and exclaimed — 

" They don't respect this flag ; thej* are 
firing at it.'' 

" They fired at me two or three times," 
replied Wigfall, " and I stood it, and I 
should think you might stand it once. If 
you will show a white flag from your ram- 
parts, they will cease firing." 

"If you request," said Lieutenant Da- 
vis, "that a flag shall be shown there, 
while you hold a conference with Major 
Anderson, and for that purpose alone, it 
may be done.'' 

At this point Major Anderson came u]i. 
Wigfall said, "I am General Wigfall, and 
come from General Beauregard, who 
wishes to stop this." 

Major Anderson, rising to his full 
height, replied, " Well, sir ! " 

" Major Anderson," exclaimed Wigfall. 
"you have defended your flag nobly, sir. 
You have done all that it is possible for 
men to do, and General Beauregard wishes 
to stop the fight. On what terms. Major 
Anderson, will you evacuate this fort ? " 

" General Beauregard is alread}- ac- 
quainted with my only terms," was Major 
Anderson's reply. 

" Do I understand that you will evacviate 
upon the terms proposed the other day ? " 
inquired Wigfall. 

" Yes, sir, and on those conditions only." 

"Then, sir," said Wigfall, "I under- 
stand that the fort is to be ours." 

" On these conditions only, I repeat." 

" Very well," said Wigfall, and he re- 
tired. 

A short time afterwards, a deputation, 
consisting of Senator Chesnut, Roger A. 
Pryor, Capt. S. D. Lee, and W. Porcher 
Miles, came from General Beauregard and 
had an interview with Major Anderson, 
when it came out that Wigfall had no 
authority to speak for General Beauregard, 
but acted on his own responsibility. 
" Then," said Lieutenant Davis, " we have 



768 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. ' • ' 



been deceived;" and Major Anderson, 
perceiving the state of the case, ordered 
the American flag to be raised to its place. 
Tlie deputation, liowever, requested him 
to keep the flag down until they could 
communicate with General Beauregard, as 
matters were liable to be complicated. 
They left, and, between two and three 
hours after, the garrison meanwhile exert- 
ing themselves to extinguish the fire in 
the barracks, another deputation came 
from General Beauregard, agreeing to the 
terms of evacuation previousl}' proposed. 
Tliis wa.s on Saturday evening. That 
night the garrLson took what re.st the}' 
could. Next day, the steam-boat Isabel 
came down and ancliored nctar the fort. 




^a^^yf^ 







The steamer Clinch was used as a trans- 
port to take the garrison to the Isabel, but 
the transfer was too late to allow the Isa- 
bel to go out with that tide. The terms 
of evacuation agreed to were, that the gar- 
rison should take their individual and 
company property, and that they should 
march out with their side and other arms, 
with all the honors of war, in their own 
way, and at their own time, and that they 
should salute their flag and take it with 
them. 

The insurgents agreed to furnish trans- 
|)orts, as Major Anderson might select, to 
any part of the country, either by land or 
by water. When the baggage of the gar- 



rison was all on board of the transport, the 
soldiers remaining inside under arms, a 
I)ortion were designated as gunners to 
serve in saluting the American flag. 
When the last gun was fired, the flag was 
lowered, the men cheering. At the fiftieth 
discharge there was a premature exjilosion, 
wliiili killed one man instantly, seriously 
wounded another, and two more not su 
badly. The men were then formed and 
marched out, the band playing '' Yankee 
Doodle'" and "Hail to the Chief." 

In regard to the mode of action pursued 
by Major Anderson, during the bombard- 
ment, his sagacity was everywhere mani- 
fest. So small was the number of his 
men, as to necessitate their division into 
reliefs, or equal parties, so as to work 
the different batteries by turns, each 
four hours. Another account of this 
terrible scene states that the first relief 
opened upon the iron batteries at Cum- 
mings Point, at a distance of sixteen 
hundred yards, the iron floating bat- 
tery, distant some eighteen hundred or 
two thousand yards at the end of Sulli- 
van's Island, the enfilading battery on 
Sullivan's Island, ami Fort Moultrie, 
— Caj)taiu Doubleday firing the first 
gun, and all the points just named be- 
ing opened upon sinniltaneously. For 
<^ the first four hours, the firing was kept 
' J up with great rapidity ; the enthusiasm 
of the men. indeed, was so great that 
the second and third reliefs could not be 
kept from the guns. This accounts for 
the fact that double the number of guns 
were at work during the first four hours 
than at any other time. 

Shells burst with the greatest rapidity 
in every portion of the work, hurling the 
loose brick and stone in all direetion.s, 
breaking the windows, and setting fire to 
whatever v^ood-work they burst against. 
The solid shot firing of the enemy's bat- 
teries, and particularly of Fort Moultrie, 
was directed at the l>arbette guns of Fort 
Sumter, disabling one ten-inch and one 
eight-inch colunibiad, one forty-two pound- 
er, and two eight-inch searcoast howit- 
zers, and also tearing away a large portion 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



709 



of the parapet. The firing from the bat- 
teries on Gummings Point was scattered 
over tlie whole of the gorge, or rear, of the 
fort. It looked like a sieve. The explo- 
sion of shells, and the quantity of deadly 
missiles hurled in every direction and at 
every instant of time, made it almost cer- 
tain death to go out of the lower tier of 
casements, and also made the working of 
the barbette, or upper uncovered guns, 
which contained all the heaviest metals, 
and by which alone shells could be thrown, 
quite impossible. During the first day 
there was hardly an instant of time that 
there was a cessation of the whizzing of 
balls, which were sometimes coming half a 
dozen at once. There was not a portion of 
the work which was not seen in reverse — 
that is, exposed by the rear — from mor- 
tars. 

On Friday, before dinner, several of the 
vessels of the fleet beyond the bar were 
seen through the port-holes. They dipped 
their flag. The command ordered Sum- 
ter's flag to be dipped in return, which 
was done, while the shells were bursting 
in every direction. The flagstaff was lo- 
cated in the open parade, being about the 
center of the o^jen space within the fort. 
Sergeant Hart saw the flag half-way down, 
and, supposing that it had been cut by the 
enemy's shot, rushed out through the lire 
to assist in getting it up. Shortly after it 
had been re-raised, a shell burst and cut 
the halyards, but the rope was so inter- 
twined around the halyards, that the flag 
would not fall. Sergeant Hart also par- 
ticularly distinguished himself in trying to 
put out the flames in the quarters, with 
shells and shot crashing around him ; and, 
though ordered away by Major Anderson, 
he begged hard to be permitted to remain 
and continue his exertions. 

One great misfortune was, that there 

was not an instrument in the fort by which 

they could weigh powder, which of course 

destroyed all attempt at accuracy of firing. 

Nor were there any tangent scales, breech 

sides, or other instruments with which to 

point a gun. When it became so dark as 

to render it impossible to see the effect of 
4!) 



their shot, the port-holes were closed for 
the night, while the batteries of the seces- 
sionists continued their fire the whole 
night. The firing of the rifled guns from 
the iron battery on Gummings Point be- 
came extremely accurate in the afternoon 
of Friday, cutting out large quantities of 
the masonry about the embrasures at every 
shot. One piece struck Sergeant Kearnan, 
an old Mexican war veteran, striking him 
on the head and knocking him down. 
Upon being revived, he was asked if he 
was hurt badly. He replied, " No ! I was 
only knocked down temjjorarily ; " and he 
went to work again. On Saturday, when 
the barracks were on fire, the wind so 
directed the smoke as tofairl3-fill the fort, 
so that the men could not see each other, 
and, with the hot, stifling air, it was as 
much as a man could do to breathe. Soon 
they were obliged to cover their faces with 
wet cloths in order to get along at all, so 
dense was the smoke and so scorching the 
heat. But few cartridges were left, and 
the guns were fired slowly ; nor could more 
cartridges be made, on account of the 
sparks falling in every part of the works. 
A gun was fired every now and then, only 
to let the people and the fleet in the town 
know that the fort had not been silenced. 
The cannoneers could not see to aim, much 
less where they hit. 

After the barracks were well on fire, the 
shells and ammunition in the upper ser- 
vice-magazines exploded, scattering the 
tower and upper portions of the building 
in every direction. The crash of the 
beams, the roar of the flames, the rapid 
explosion of the shells, and the shower of 
fragments of the fort, with the blackness 
of the smoke, made the scene indescriba- 
bly terrific and grand. This continued for 
several hours. Meanwhile, the main gates 
were burned down, the chassis of the bar- 
bette guns were burned away on the gorge, 
and the upper portions of the towers had 
been demolished by shells. There was not 
a portion of the fort where a breath of air 
could be got for hours, except through a 
wet cloth. The fire spread throvigli to the 
men's quarters, on the right hand and on 



770 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 




INTERIOR OF FORT SUMTEU AFTER THE UOMUAKDMl .. 

till! left, and endangered the powder that 
hail been taken out of the magazines. 
The men went through the iire and cov- 
ered the barrels with wet cloths, but the 
danger of the fort's blowing up became so 
imminent, that tliey were obliged to heave 
the barrels out of the embrasures. While 
the powder was being thrown overboard, 
all the guns of Moultrie, of the iron float- 
ing batter^-, of the enfilade battery, and 
the Dalilgren battery, worked witli in- 
creased vigor. 

The interior of Fort Sumter, as seen 
after the evacuation and described by the 
newspaj)er reporters, showed the work that 
had been done during the bondiardmcnt. 
Every point and every object, to which the 
eye was turned, except the outer walls and 
casements, bore the impress of ruin. The 
walls of the internal structure, roofless, 
bare, blackiuied and perforated by shot and 
shell, hung in fragments, and seemed in 
instant readiness to totter down. Near 
the center of the parade ground was the 
hurried grave of one who had fallen in 
defense of his country's flag. To the left 
of the entrance was a man wlio seemed at 
the verge of death. In the ruins to the 
right tliere was anotlu r. The shattered 
flag-staff, marked by fi.in- balls, lay on the 




ground. The parade gimind was strewn 
with fragments of shell and of the dilapi- 
dated buildings. At least four guns were 
dismounted on the ramparts, and at every 
step the way was impeded by materials of 
the broken structure. The whole scene 
was one of frightful desolation, causing 
indescribable feelings in every loyal heart. 
On the ISth of Ai)ril, ^lajor Anderson, 
then on his way to New York, in the 
steanishi]> Halfic, ]ienned his official dis- 
patih to Mr. Cameron, secretary of war, 
stating that, "having defended Fort Sum- 
ter fur thirly-fi)ur hours, until the ipiar- 



GKEAT AJ^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



771 



ters were entirely' burned, the main gates 
destroyed by fire, tlie gorge wall seriously 
injured, the magazine surrounded by 
flames, and its door closed from tlie effects 
of the heat, four barrels and three car- 
tridges of powder only being available, 
and no provisions but pork remaining, I 
accepted terms of evacuation offered by 
General Beauregard, being the same of- 
fered by him on the Hth instant, prior to 
the commencement of hostilities, and 
marched out of the fort Sunday afternoon, 
the 14th instant, with colors flying and 
drums heating, bringing away company 
and private property, and saluting my flag 
with fifty guns." Major Anderson and his 
men received the thanks of the govern- 
ment for their gallant defense of the fort 
against such odds. 

As soon as the national flag had ceased 
to wave over Fort Sumter, the president 
issued a proclamation for an extra session 
of congress, to convene July 4th, and also 
calling for seveuty-five thousand men, in 
order "to maintain the honor, the integ- 
rity, and e.xistence of our national Union 
and the perpetuity of popular government, 
and to redress wrongs already long enough 
endured." This proclamation was of 
course spurned and ridiculed by the seven 
states — South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, 
Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas 
— that had formed themselves into the 
Southern Confederacy ; and, by the other 
southern states, as also by the border 
states, it was treated with mingled con- 
tempt and indignation. But, throughout 
the vast North and West, it was received 
and responded to with an enthusiasm 
which showed that the attempt to dismem- 
ber the North American Republic and 
blot it out from the map of nations, was to 
be resisted to the last dollar and the last 
man. The supreme hour in the history of 
the nation had now arrived, and, reluctant 
as were the loyal states to engage in the 
horrors of fratricidal strife, the wager of 
war was the only alternative which now 
presented itself. Tlie national fate hung 
trembling in the scale of destiny, and the 



people rose in their might; party lines 
were obliterated; the battle-roll of the 
republic was called ; the old flag seemed 
never before so dear to the patriot's heart. 

On the other hand, the successful reduc- 
tion of Fort Sumter inspired univer.sal 
enthusiasm at the south, in behalf of the 
secession cause, — Virginia, Tennessee, 
North Carolina, Arkansas, and Missouri 
joined the Confederacy, — and gigantic 
preparations were made for a contest which 
should result in separation and independ- 
ence. Armies were formed and equipped, 
and defensive fortifications erected, in all 
the disunion states. 

At the head of tlie armies of the lo3al 
states was Lieutenant-General Scott, di- 
recting all the preparations and move- 
ments for the impending conflict, and espe- 
cially devoting his military skill to the 
protection of the federal capital. It was 
said that he had all along been averse, 
from purely military considerations, to the 
re-enforcement of Fort Sumter, it being, 
like Charleston, of no strategic importance, 
requiring a valuable force to hold it, with 
no adequate advantage gained. He re- 
garded Fort Pickens, in the Gulf, and 
Washington, the capital, as the two keys 
of the position. On the 4th of March, and 
for some weeks afterward, it would have 
been almost impossible for the federal gov- 
ernment to defend Washington against 
such a force as had already been collected 
by the secessionists before Sumter, and 
which could be marched at any time on a 
capital unprepared for defense. General 
Scott's plans, based on these facts, were at 
once laid. No time was lost in strength- 
ening the capital. Success attended the 
effort to increase the garrison of Fort 
Pickens, and at last Washington was rea- 
sonably safe. 

And thus commenced what finally 
proved to be the most gigantic and bloody 
struggle in the annals of human strife, the 
result of the conflict, too, being the most 
momentous, perhaps, in its relations to the 
interests of the human race, of any since 
the world began. 



xc. 

ASTONISHING FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING PERFORMED 
BY MR. JOHN S. RAREY.— 1861. 



The Most Savage and Furioue Animals Mude Tractable as Lambs. — The Ferocious and Far-Famed 
" Cruiser" Lies Docile at His Master's Feet — Aeclaraations of Wonder and Admiration by Crowded 
Audiences. — Brilliant Honors from Monarclis and Courts Abroad. — I'bilosopliy of Mr. Harey's 
Method and Success. — Mr. Rarey Personally. — Boyhood Fondness for Horses, — Aptness in Training 
Them. — Discovers an Improved Method. — Its Perfect Success. — Wild Prairie Horses Subdued. — 
— Determines to Kxhibit Abroad. — His Skill Challenged in London. — " Cruiser " to be the Great Test. 
— Kage and Fury of the Animal. — Plunging, Hearing, Yelling, Biting — Uarey's Complete Triumph. — 
Monarclis and Princes Present. — Their Surprise and Delight. — Victoria's Kapturous Applause — 
Exhibitions in the United States. — Terrible Cases Dealt With. — Karey Always Conqueror. — His 
Calm, Fine, Firm Voice. — Cool, Quiet, Quick Movements. — Magnetism of His Presence. — Details of 
the System. 



" r ran break nny animal, of whatcvpr ase or habits. In the wnrld. 1 cto make ftoj aniini] eentlble of my power— make him gentle and 
en uflvctiouate."— Mlt. ItAUitr. A[ NtliLu'8 Gaudkh, Nkw Yuuk. 




"CRDISEB," miTAMGD. 



TT OYEL and extraordinary, to a degree bordering 
on the marvelous, were the exhibitions 
with which the name of Jolin S. Rarey, 
of Ohio, became so popularly identified, 
both in America and Europe, in the 
management of that noblest, as well as 
most useful and beautiful, of aiiinial.s, the 
horse. Wondering and delighted crowds 
attended these exhibitions, in all 
the principal cities of this country; 
and, abroad, crowned heads and 
- titled dignitaries were among the 
gifted champion's most enthusias- 
tic auditors, — and there, as well as 
at liome, every American felt a 
just pride in tlie laurels achieved 
by tlieir countryman. Such a 
decided sensation, — at once so 
exciting, pleasant, and universal, may well have a place in the 
national gallery of things noteworthy and agreeable. Surely, 
few, if any, of the marvels recorded in that wonderful French 
book, " The Great Wizard," which Dr. K. Shelton McKenzie 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



773 



has given to the English reader in so fasci- 
nating a dress, can be said to equal the 
feats performed by the ver^^ practical wiz- 
ard of Oliio, in the different cities of the 
Union in 1861, and which cast all that is 
merely ideal or legerdemain far and for- 
ever into the shade. 

At the time of these astonishing tri- 
umphs, Mr. Rarej' was a slightly built 
man, about thirty 3'ears of age. He was 
the son of a stock farmer and breeder of 
horses, who lived in Franklin county, Ohio, 
and was himself engaged in a similar occu- 
pation at a place called Groveport, about 
ten miles from Columbus, the capital of 
that state. From boyhood he is stated to 
have exhibited an intense fondness for 
horses and a remarkable aptitude for 
breaking and training them after the old 
fashion, until he discovered a more humane 
mode of treatment, and which he soon 
put into practice with the greatest success 
in his native state. The subjects on which 
he operated were in many cases horses 
reclaimed in a perfectly wild condition 
from the western prairies, and in the 
course of his experience he had several of 
his limbs broken, but without at all damp- 
ening his enthusiasm or diminishing his 
faith. 

Appreciating the Englishman's superior 
love and care for the horse, Mr. Rarey 
visited England at the outset of his career, 
for the jiurpose of exhibiting and introduc- 
ing his system of training in that countrj'. 
His success was such as to elicit the most 
unbounded admiration, mingled with at 
least an equal degree of astonishment, on 
the part of audiences the most crowded 
and brilliant, including veteran horse- 
trainers from far and near. Among the 
latter class, were not a few who regarded 
the American performer with somewhat of 
professional jealousj-, and it was not long 
before the following challenge of his skill 
was received by him from a high source : 
" Mr. Rarey is a public man, and of course 
exposed to criticism. Some of his experi- 
ments have proved successful, but there 
has not been time enough to develop 
whether the docility of these horses upon 



whom he has operated is as durable as he 
alleges. If, however, he would 'walk over 
the course,' and set criticism at defiance, 
let him go down some morning to Mur- 
rell's Green, with a few of his aristocratic 
friends, and try, ' Cruiser,'' and if he can 
ride him as a hack I guarantee him immor- 
tality, and an amount of ready money that 
would make a British bank director's 
mouth water. The 'initiated' will not be 
surprised at my selecting Cruiser; but as 
the public may be ignorant of him, I will 
append some particulars of his historj': 
Cruiser was the property of Lord Dor- 
chester, and was a favorite of the Derby 
in Wild Daynell's year, but broke down 
about a month before the race. Like all 
horses of Venison blood, his temper was not 
of the mildest kind, and his owner was glad 
to get rid of him. When started for Raw- 
cliffe, the nian who had him in charge was 
told on no account to put him in a stable, 
as he would never get him out. This 
injunction was of course disregarded, for 
when the man wanted some refreshment 
he put Cruiser in the public stable and 
left him. To get him out, the roof of the 
building had to be ripped off. At Raw- 
c.liffe. Cruiser was always exhibited by a 
groom with a ticket-of-leave bludgeon in 
his hand, and few were bold enough to 
venture into the animal's inclosure, the 
cordial wish of every visitor being ' that 
some friendly bullet would l.ay him low.' 
This animal, then, w'hose temper has 
depreciated his value perhaps a thousand 
pounds, I think would bo 'the right horse 
in the right place,' to try Mr. Rarey's 
skill ; and as the locale is so near London, 
the sooner the experiment is made the 
better." This challenge was no sooner 
received than accepted, and, as the vicious- 
ness and ferocity of Cruiser had hitherto 
utterly bafHed everjr attempt at subjection, 
the trial of Mr. Rarey's skill was looked 
forward to with intense interest. 

Cruiser's liabit, it appears, was to 
scream and yell when any one approached 
him, to smash up his stall "into lucifer 
matches," and to attempt to bite and de- 
stroy every living thing in his neighbor- 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



hood. Nol)lonipn used to go and throw 
articlp.s into his brick bo.\, in order to see 
liim tight. When he was to be fed or 
watered, the fir.st proceeding with his 
groom was to aseertiiin, by thrusting a long 
jiole in at the stable door, where the en- 
emy stood, and tlien to deposit the food, 
shut the door, and vanish as soon as pos- 
sible. Mr. Rare)/ changed all this in a 
moment, as if were. He ordered the sta- 
ble door to be thrown open, introduced 
himself accoi-ding to his system, without 
dela^', and in half an hour the indomitable 
Cruiser might be ridden by a child, could 
listen tranquilly to the beating of a drum, 
and stand serene even if an umbi-ella 
were flourished in his face. Gentle as a 
lamb, he followed his teacher about the 
arena like a dog, stopping when he pointed 
his finger, lying d<iwn when he was told, 
rising again when he obtained permission, 
and doing all this in a mild, good-humored 
sort of way, as if the wi.^-h to oblige was 
the sole ruling motive, and tliat the now 
docile Cruiser was totally unaware of that 
terrible array of wliips and .';])urs, bits and 
muzzles, with whirli his iirst teai-liers bad 
sought to check his ferocity and bring him 
to reason. The speedy, easy, and com- 
plete success of Mr. Karey. in this remark- 
able case, gave him, at once, the most flat- 
tering and exalted reputation from one end 
of ?]urope to the other. 

On Mr. Harey's appearance .at Nil)lo's, 
in New NUrk, he exhibited this renowneil 
specimen of tlii' ei|iiine race — an animal 
over sixteen hands high, and of immense 
bone and muscle, — and said : " When I 
went to England and exhibited there, the 
papers all said, 'This is very wdl, Init try 
Cruiser ! ' I immediately wrote to Lord 
Dorchester, about the horse, and he replied 
that the horse conld not be brought to me, 
but that I must come to him. I did go to 
him. The horse had not been out of his 
bo.\ for three years; a brick stable had to 
be built for him, and he wouhl have been 
shot, but he was the last of a race of splen- 
did blood-horses, and his owner was anx- 
ious to preserve him if possible. 1 found 
that by his biting and kicking he had so 



injured himself that he could not be taken 
out of his box, and so I had to wait for his 
recover3'. I went down to see him, quietly 
and unknown, but somehow the papers got 
hold of it. and everybody said that I dared 
not go near Cruiser." Under these cir- 
cumstances, Mr. Karey was detained some 
three weeks, when he went to London, 
accompanied by the now subdued steed. 

The collar and muzzle which Cruiser 
used to wear were exhibited bj' Mr. Rarey. 
His owner could place them upon him 
only by letting a rope down through the 
roof of his stall, fa.stening it under his 
neck, and raising him off his fore feet. 
The exhibition at Niblo's was the first 
time Cruiser had been on the stage in 
America. " We have," said Mr. Rarev, 
" had no rehearsal ; but instead of kicking, 
as he used, he will now (as you see) give 
me his foot like a gentleman." Two 




.IDIIN S. RARRV. 

stnips wire now shown, being :ill that had 
been used in taming this horse. Mr. 
Rare}', on being asked "to explain, more 
particularlj', how he approached Cruiser, 
said: "I thiidv horses have a reason for 
everything they do. I knew if I ap- 
proached Cruiser with a stick he would 
fight me, as he had fought others who 
came to whip him. In the box was a 
double door, so that I could open the 
upper half. I went quietly ; opened the 
door noiselessly. Cruiser turned round, saw 
me, started back frightfully, but 'lid not 
attempt to come at me. He came slowly 
up to smell of me after a while, and, in 
spite of Lord Dorchester's entreaties, I 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



775 



stood still. Presently, when I saw that 
he stood naturally, I began to fondle him. 
Lord Dorchester begged me to tie his 
head, and I did so, but you never saw 
suoh fighting. Finding that he would 
either kill himself or tear down the box, I 
released him, and began all over again. 
After he allowed me to fondle him, I took 
him into the straw-j-ard, and proceeded as 
with any other horse, until at last he 
would let me take any liberty with him, 
and Lord Dorchester mounted him with 
impunity." Mr. Rarey declared that 
Cruiser was about as celebrated for his 
viciousness as he himself was for taming 
him. 

A horse of the Messenger breed, excita- 
ble and ferocious, was next operated upon. 
By gently foudling his head and caressing 
him, Mr. Rarey succeeded in managing 
him perfectly. "See," said Mr. Rarey, 
'' I place this horse's foot upon nie. There 
is no danger. He would no more tread 
heavily upon me than a mare upon her 
foal." He sat upon the animal, put his 
hoofs playfully together, and rested his 
head composedly between the horse's heels. 
At first, IMr. Rarey fastened a strap round 
the horse's fore leg, so as to make him 
limp on three legs and finally kneel. 
AVhen the second strap was attached, a 
struggle ensued, which ended in the ani- 
mal's lying down, and here the art of Mr. 
Rarey, in its perfect adaptedness to the 
end sought, was made apparent. 

Next in course was a wild horse from 
South America, which threw Mr. Rarey 
several times, plunging, rearing, and bit- 
ing with rage and fury. On his leg, too, 
Mr. Rarey attached the fatal strap, and, 
after a prolonged struggle, the animal was 
thrown, and his conquerer was upon him. 
After rising up and sitting down again on 
the horse's back several times, in order to 
accustom the horse to the sensation, Mr. 
Rarey raised him up, and, addressing the 
audience from the animal's back, said : 
"It is entirely wrong to leap upon a 
horse's back and hold fast, no matter how 
frightened he may be. There is now a 
perfect understanding between us. All 



Iinrses like iiie after this process. They 
all come to me gladhj. This is the test of 
breaking : If they fly away from you, then 
know you have treated them badly ; if 
they come to .you, they know you are a 
friend." No better illustration of the 
truth of these remarks was needed than the 
case then in hand. 

Perhaps the most brilliant and magnifi- 
cent reception ever accorded in Europe to 
a private, untitled American, was on the 
occasion of Mr. Rarey's performances in 
London, when there were present the 
Queen, Prince Albert, the princess royal, 
the Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred, and 
other members of the royal family, with 
the ladies of the court and most of the 
foreign princes and distinguished visitors 
then in the metropolis,' including Prince 
Frederick William of Prussia, the prince 
of Prussia ; the Princes Frederick Charles, 
Albert, Frederick Albert, and Adelbert, of 
Prussia; Prince Hohenzollern Signiarin- 
gen, the Duke of Saxe Coburg and Gotha, 
the Duke of Brabant, the Count of Flan- 
ders, Prince William of Baden, Prince 
Edward of Saxe Weimer, and Prince Jul- 
ius of Holstein Glucksburg. The Duke 
of Wellington, Major-General Sir Richard 
Airey, Lord Paget, and countless other 
dignitaries were also present. 

The subjects on which Mr. Rarey oper- 
ated were decided cases. One was a fine- 
spirited black horse, of high nervous tem- 
perament, which had been returned to Mr. 
Anderson, of Picadilly, of whom he had 
been bought for a large sum of money, on 
the ground of his being all but unmanage- 
able. At the first private interview of 
Mr. Rare}' with this horse, the animal was 
placed in a loose box, which Mr. Rarey 
entered, cracking a whip. Startled by 
this unusual exhibition of violence, the 
horse struck out with both his hind legs, 
and uttered a kind of savage yell. The 
company who had assembled to witness 
the experiment were then asked to with- 
draw, and Mr. Rarey was left alone with 
the horse. On being called in again, in 
less than quarter of an hour, they were 
amazed to find the animal prostrate on his 



776 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



sido ainonn the straw in the stall, with 
liis held .slightly raised, and Jlr. Rarey, 
whom he was eyeing without the slightest 
symptom of alarm, lying beside him. Mr. 
Rarey remained with him in this position 
for some time, during which he knocked 
the horse's fore and hind hoofs together, 
made a pillow of his thighs, and finally got 
up and ran a licavy wheelliarrow up to and 
around the still prostrate creature, without 
producing in him the slightest sensation 
of fear. Subsequently, the mastery of 
Mr. Rarey became so complete over this 
horse, that, when laid on his side in a 
loose bo.\, a plank was placed against his 
shoulder in sight of the horse, and a bar- 
row run up it. He never moved. A 
drum was also beaten on his back, and an 
umbrella opened in his very face ; but he 
remained stock still, and evinced no sign 
of apprehension. 

The next subject on which iNIr. Rarey 
e.xperimentod was a j'oung unbroken colt, 
brought from Prince Albert's farm, and 
which had never been handled in any 
waj'. This colt was led into the arena in 
halter, and, after being left alone with the 
horse-tamer a lew minutes, the company 
saw, as in the former case, this wild colt 
lying on the ground, and the horse-tamer 
by his side, who sat upon him and handled 
Ilia legs, feet, and ever3' other part by 
turns, — a process during which the creat- 
ure remained as gentle and passive as a 
child. 

After Mr. Rarey had parted with the 
colt, a handsome bay-charger, belonging to 
Prince Albert, was brought forward. This 
horse was one of high spirit, which had 
alw.ivs shown groat restlessness while be- 
ing mounted and a constant tendency to 
take fright, and, it was thought, would 
thoroughly defy all of !^^r. Rarey 's at- 
tempts to tame him. In a short time, 
however, the horse-tamer had him down 
also, as submissive as all tJie rest, and was 
seen crawling among his legs, sitting ujion 
his shoulders and hips, and knocking his 
hoofs together. Then, bidding the horse 
ri.se, which he did instantly, Mr. Rarey 
jumped upon his back, and held by turns 



an umbrella over his head and beat a tat- 
too on a drum, the hitherto proud, restless 
animal, now owning subjection to a new 
master, remaining the while almost as 
motionless as a statue. 

All these remarkable feats were watched 
throughout with the most intense interest 
— the Queen, in the enthusiasm of the 
moment, herself rapturously applauding 
with her own hands, and the whole com- 
pany joining in prolonged demonstrations 
of astonishment and delight. 

In Paris, Mr. Rarey 's method produced 
unbounded excitement. In order to put 
the system to a vigorous test, the emperor 
caused to be purchased, at Caen, a four- 
year-old horse, by " Tipple Cider," noted 
for its violence, and for kicking furiously 
whenever an attempt was made to put a 
crupper on it. In the space of four days, 
this horse was as docile with the saddle 
and the harness as could be desired, and 
he allowed a whip to be cr.icked abo\it his 
head, and a drum to be beaten on his back, 
without any manifestation of fear. 

Another most notable case was that of a 
stallion belonging to the government, and 
which was so untamable, so vicious, so 
furious, in fa<-t, that a resolution had been 
adopted to kill it. The animal was lent 
for the purpose by M. de Baylen, and as 
many as three hundred members of the 
Jockey and other clubs assembled to see 
what Mr. Rare}' could do with him. In 
company with this horse, which arrived 
with a noose-band on, and muzzled, and 
led bj' two men, Mr. Rarey fastened him- 
self up in a stall, and, in an hour after, he 
came out mounted on its back. Although 
the horse had alwaj's previously bitten the 
legs of everyone who mounted him, he was 
then perfectly quiet ; and though the very 
sight of a whip was accustomed to put it 
in a fur^', it received a correction as qui- 
etly as the best broken-in horse would 
have done. The members of the Jockey 
Club were astoni.shed at what they wit- 
nessed, and broke out into loud acclama- 
tions of admiration, after which they 
gathered round Mr. Rarey to compliment 
him. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



777 



In London, again, Mr. Rarey tested his 
skill successfully, in the space of an hour, 
on a famous bay mare, long pronounced 
incurable — who was so dangerous to ap- 
proach in any way that she could not be 
ridden, would strike with her fore feet like 
a pugilist, and kick as well with her hind 
feet. So savage was she, that no horse- 
mati had been able to ascertain her age bj' 
looking at her teeth ; yet Mr. Earey not 
only opened her mouth, but put his hand 
into it sevei-al times, and told his audi- 
ence that, in his opinion, she was eight 
years old. Great cheers followed this tri- 
umph of skill, but it was to be still 



vast audience — who sat in silence and sur- 
prise almost approaching to awe — was 
greeted at its close with rounds of ap- 
plause, and Mr. Rarey was tumultuously 
called for twice to receive an ovation of 
cheers. 

Visiting Russia, a special exhibition 
was given, by request, before the emperor 
and his court. All etiquette was laid 
aside by the royal spectators — the em- 
peror, and empress, and all present, enter- 
ing into the humors of the evening with a 
hearty abandonment, not only deeply grat- 
ified at the novelty of the entertainment, 
but also with the privilege of giving vent 




MR. BAREY EXHIBITING HIS CELEBRATED METHOD OF TAMISG HORSES. 



further demonstrated on a thorough-bred, 
high-spirited Arabian stallion, extremely 
vicious, perfectly uncontrollable, biting at 
every one that approached him, and that 
would not suffer himself to be bridled ex- 
cept blindfolded. On his arrival on this 
occasion, at the railway station, he knocked 
down his groom by kicking him on the 
head ; and on being taken into the ring, 
nearly broke the arm of the man who led 
him in, by striking him with his fore feet. 
Mr. Rarey, notwithstanding, succeeded 
after a desperate struggle, which lasted 
for about an hour, in rendering him as 
tractable as a lamb. This feat, which was 
witnessed throughout bj- the whole of the 



to their natural feelings. That nothing 
might be wanting to fulfill the object of 
the exhibition, the emperor had shrewdly 
availed himself of his varied resources, in 
in procuring such an animal as would test 
Mr. Rarej^'s powers to the greatest extent 
— the Russian wilds affording, as is well 
known, fearful specimens of untutored and 
savage horse life. At a certain signal, 
therefore, a perfectly wild brute from the 
Steppes was brought into the arena, and 
for the first time introduced to Mr. Rarey's 
notice. Two peasants, themselves semi- 
barbarous, awed by the presence of the 
emperor, and filled with intense fear by 
the plunging and rearing of the horse in 



778 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



their charge, with difficulty restrained him 
from breaking away, biting tlicir fle.sh, 
or knocking their brains out with his 
heels, which at times cleaved the air with 
fearful velocity, for the infuriated animal, 
in the insanity of his captivity-, absolutely 
bit at interposing objects as if he were a 
tiger. Mr. Rarey, perfectly self-possessed, 
and to the surprise of all present, boldly 
laid his hand upon his neck, and then 
pa.ssed it gently over the ears, and in a 
few moments ordered the peasants to un- 
loose their rigorous hold on the ropes, 
when Mr. Rarey proceeded to further ]>ii<'- 
ify the creature, his success being com- 
plete. The emperor and the imperial 
family looked on with uniazcniciit, wliik' 
the two peasants were struck dumb with 
awe and won<lcr — the effect being height- 
ened when the emperor, half sternly and 
lialf playfully, asked them " why thcij 
could not thus handle the hor.se ! " 

One of the worst specimens that Mr. 
Rarey had to deal witl» in America, was a 
New York car-horse, — a very bad kicker, 
striking with her fore feet, allowing no 
one to approach her in her stable, very 
treacherous, and giving no warning. AVlien 
the horse appeared upon the stage, it 
was pronounced a tough-looking customer 
enough, — thin, wirj', <lirty, stubborn, vic- 
ious, evil-e^-ed. It had not been shod 
except with all its feet tied, and then with 
difficulty. Every time Mr. Rarey touched 
it, the horse kicked most savagely. First 
one little strap was tied on, however, and 
then another. The horse fell easily, as it 
had been used to be thrown thus to be 
shod. But, when the straps were taken 
off, and Rarey began his familiarities, then 
came tlie tug of war. It was kick and 
bite, soothe and fondle, get up and fall 
down, until at last the struggling beast 
completely succumbed to the tamer's 
kindness. Mr. Rare^-'s head lay be- 
tween those formidable hoofs ; his hand 
unloosed the bridle which had not been 
removed for months ; he jilayed black- 
smith, too, hammering at the shoe without 
any difficulty, and curing the last bit of 
restlessness by turning the horse round 



and round awhile. Mr. Rarey led off the 
subdued old equine hag with as much com- 
placency as if biting and kicking had 
never been known. The astonishment of 
the owner, who knew the horse so well, 
only outran that of the audience. 

The theory proclaimed by Mr. Rarey, 
in his lectures and performances, was, that 
hitherto the mode of treating this noble 
animal — at least in the preliminary stages 
of breaking, etc., — had proceeded on ideas 
of his nature altogether erroneous and 
cruel, and been invariably characterized 
by unnecessary violence, provoking the 
dis]ilay of resistance and other kindred 
qualities on his part, and so the evil has 
been perpetuated. On tiie other hand, 
the ))rinciple advocated by Mr. Rarey and 
constituting the key to his success — that of 
extreme kindness and tenderness. — con- 
vince* the animal tliat man is his natural 
master and friend, and elicits his confi- 
dence and kindly regard. Appealing to 
"the intellect and affections of the horse," 
as the basis of his system of treatment, 
Mr. Rarey was enabled to saj', to his vast 
and admiring audience at Niblo's Garden, 
New York : 

"I have never had an accident since I 
became perfect in my system, and I don't 
fear any. I have been among horses since 
I was twelve years old, and at first had a 
great many accidents. Every limb has 
been broken, exce[)t my right arm ; but be- 
ing young, when these accidents happened, 
the bones fortunately healed strongly. 
Now I know horses' ever}' thought, and 
can break any aninuvl, of whatever age 
and habits, in the world. I can make any 
animal sensible of mj' jiower — make him 
gentle and even affectionate.'' 

The mechanical jirocess emjiloyed in 
this system, as described, consists in fast- 
ening one fore leg by a strap-^first allow- 
ing the horse to see and smell it — ]iassed 
around the pastern and buckled close to 
the forearm. Another strap is then fast- 
ened to the pastern of the other fore leg, 
and is either passed under a belt, previ- 
ously buckled about the horse's body, and 
its end held in one hand, or it may be held 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



r79 



over liis back. The liorse is then gently 
urged forward, and as he raises his free 
fore foot to step, it is pulled from under 
him by the operator. This brings him 
upon his knees. A struggle ensues, in 
which the man is sure to be the victor. 
Next, b\- a sufficient pressure, the horse is 
thrown upon his side and lies helpless. 
The operator then soothes him with the 
hand and voice, removes the straps, and 
after a short period allows him to rise. 
A single applicatioa is generally sufficient. 
Mr. Rarey's cool, quiet, quick move- 
ments, his calm, fine, firm voice, gave to 
his presence a peculiar magnetism and 
contributed greatly to his power over the 
horse ; so that, in this respect, he achieved 
a world-wide reputation, without a peer or 
rival to divide his fame. The courage and 
self-possession exhibited by him were ex- 
traordinary, — a patience, too, that nothing 
could wear out, and a temper that nothing 
could vufHe. Never in a hurry, he went 
through his work in a way that showed it 
to be, to him, a labor of love. There was 



no mystery, no charm, no drugs, employed 
by him in his performances. He ex- 
plained everything he was about to do, 
and gave a reason for it; and then, by 
doing it, successfully proved that his rea- 
soning was correct. At the end of the 
performance, the horse would walk quietly 
about without the slightest appearance of 
excitement or fatigue. But, while thus 
sparing the horse. Mr. Rarey evidently 
took an immensity of work out of himself, 
seemingly undergoing a sustained mental 
strain, in order that the horse, whose 
instinct is so sharp, might not see the 
slightest faltering in his proceedings. 
His system, a slow and gentle, but irre- 
sistible pressure, aimed not to crush, but 
to subdue, and, to this end, perfect self- 
control was indispensable. If, therefore, 
at the most critical moment, he required 
a riding-whip or a pocket handkerchief, he 
called for it as coolly as one would for a 
glass of lemonade, or as Nelson called for 
the sealing-wax during the bombardment 
of Copenhagen. 



XCI. 

BATTLE AT BULL RUN, VA., BETWEEN THE FEDERAL 
AND CONFEDERATE ARMIES.— 1801. 



First Important Engagement in the Great Civil War. — Severe FIgiiting for Many Hours. — Most Disas- 
trous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable I'anli; and Headlong Flight. — The South 
Jubilant — Gloom and Humiliation of the I-oynl States. — Three Months Since Sumter Fell. — Armies 
Massed at Washington and Uiclimond. — Threats Against the P'edcral Capital. — Irritation and Impa- 
tience of tlie Nortli. — "On to Richmond!" tlic Union War-Cry. — March of McDowell's Army. — 
Plan of the Movement — Rousing the Southern Forces. — Their Une.xpected Strength. — Uncertain 
Fate of the Day. — Re-enforccmcnt for Confederates. — Davis's Arrival on the Ground — He Exclaims, 
"Onward, My Brave Comrades!" — Their Wild Enthusiasm. — A Lost Battle for the Union. — Com- 
plete Demoralization. — Three Miles of Scattered Troops. — Arms, Stores, etc.. Flung Away — Dis- 
tressing Sights and Sounds. — Thanksgiving Appointed by Davis. — Te Deums Sung in the Southern 
Churches — Lessons Taught by tliis Battle. 



"The sainted patrint* cry. "It cahkot bkI*" 

Frrtin hravfii tlU'V ^|)«ak, and fmin their graven revered; 

The <Jod who jjave llirni victory will not rre 

The temple shuttered which their toil hae reared! * 




MONL'MENr UN THE llA TrLE-FlELU. 



OKE tliaii three iiioiitli.s liail pa.«setl since tlie rap- 
ture of Fort Suiiitor, and, during thi.s exciting 
period, tliroughout the country, the great contend- 
ing parties liad massed, respectively, immense hodies 
of troops at Washington and Riclimond, and their 
vicinities. So deep was the indignation felt hy the 
upholders of the national cause, at the fall of Sum- 
ter, and at the various hostile movements and expe- 
ditions by the confederates which followed that 
event, — such as the fearless assault made ujmn the 
federal soldiers while passing through Baltimore, 
the destruction of railroads and telegraphs, the 
seizure of Northerners' projierty at the South, the 
loss of the Norfolk navy yard, the rout at and the 
I'liant threats of an advance on AVashinglon, — that 
he cry of " On to Jiii/iinond,'' into which city the 
nfederate forces had poured from every part of 
the South, hoth for defensive anil aggressive opera- 
tions, was heard on every side. Iniieed, the pa- 
tience of the North had become strained to its 
utmost tension toward those whose alleged official 
inactivity or tardiness was the assumed cause of the 
insurgent army not having been, long since, scat- 
tered and destroyed. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



(81' 



There were of course those who did not 
share this impetuosity, — knowing well the 
capacities of defense peculiar to Richmond 
and its approaches, and keenly comprehend- 
ing the disastrous effect upon the loyal 
states of a lost battle in the open field, 
immediately after the siege and reduction 
of Sumter. 

To the pressure, however, of this almost 
universal demand for an "onward move- 
ment," General Scott at last yielded, and, 
on the 21st of July, ISGl, the first really 
important engagement between the union 
and confederate forces took place on the 
banks of a stream called Bull Run, a few 
miles to the north-west of Manassas Junc- 
tion, Va., and about thirty miles south of 
the Potomac at Washington. It was on 
the 16th of July, that the union armj'^, 
commanded by General McDowell, and 
officered by Generals Tyler, Hunter, 
Richardson, Heintzelman, Patterson, and 
Miles, commenced its march, the whole 
number of men being some forty-live thou- 
sand. The confederate force which they 
were soon to encounter, was much larger, 
and consisted of the division of General 
Beauregard, intrenched at Manassas Junc- 
tion, re-enforced by the division under 
General Johnston, previously stationed at 
Winchester, in the valley of the Shenan- 
doah, and a large body of reserves advanced 
from Richmond and Aquia Creek. 

On the 17th, the union army, in three 
columns, continued their line of march, 
the advance column occupying Fairfax 
Court House about one hour before noon, 
the confederates withdrawing as the union- 
ists advanced. The cavalry pushed on to 
Centreville ; and, on the 18th, the armj' 
took up its march for the same place. The 
advance, to this date, had been steadily 
made on all sides, and the reported posi- 
tions of the troops considered good at head- 
quarters. In the afternoon, an engage- 
ment took place at Blackburn's Ford. But 
the character of this conflict, as well as the 
general plan of the whole movement, will be 
best understood by presenting here the im- 
portant portion of General McDowell's offi- 
cial report, or an abstract of the same. 



On the evening of July 20th, McDow- 
ell's command was mostly at or near Cen- 
treville, and the confederate forces at or 
near Manassas, about seven miles to the 
south-west. Centreville is a place of a few 
houses, mostly on the west side of a ridge 
running nearly north and south. The 
road from Centreville to Manassas Junc- 
tion is along this ridge, crossing Bull Run 
about three miles from the former place. 
The Warrenton turnpike, which runs 
nearly east and west, goes over this ridge, 
through the village, and crosses Bull Run 
about four miles from it. Bull Run having 
a course between the crossing from north- 
west to south-east. The first division, 
Tyler's, was stationed on the north side of 
the Warrenton turnpike, and on the east- 
ern slope of the Centreville ridge, two 
brigades on the same road, and a mile and 
a half in advance, to the west of the ridge, 
and one brigade on the road from Centre- 
ville to Manassas, where it crosses Bull 
Run at Blackburn's Ford. The second 
division. Hunter's, was on the Warrenton 
turnpike, one mile east of Centreville. 
The third division, Heintzelman's, was on 
a road known as the Old Braddock road, 
which comes into Centreville from the 
south-east, about a mile and a half from 
the village. The fifth division, Miles's, 
was on the same road with the third divis- 
ion, and between it and Centreville. 

The fight at Blackburn's Ford, on the 
18th, showed that the confederates were 
too strong at that point for the unionists 
to force a passage there without great loss, 
and, from all the information that could be 
obtained, McDowell found that his only 
alternative was to turn the extreme left of 
the confederate position. Reliable infor- 
mation was also obtained of an undefended 
ford about three miles above the bridge, 
there being another ford between it and 
the bridge, which was defended. It was 
therefore determined to take the road to 
the upper ford, and, after crossing, to get 
behind the forces guarding the lower ford 
and the bridge, and after occupying the 
Warrenton road east of the bridge, to send 
out a force to destroy the railroad at or 



782 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



near Gainesville, and thus break up the 

(•<iiiiiiiimii-iitiou betwet'u the confederate 
forces :it iManassas and tliose in the valley 
of Virf^iiiia, before Winchester, which had 
been held in check by Major-General Pat- 
terson. Brigadier-General Tyler had been 
directed to move with three of his brigades 
on the Warrenton road, and commence 
cannonading the enemj-'s batteries, while 
Hunter's division, moving after him, 
should, after passing a little stream called 
Cub Run, turn to the right and north, and 
move around to the upper ford, and there 
turn south and get behind the enemy. 
Heintzeluian's division was to follow Hun- 
ter's as far as the turning off place to the 
lower ford, where he was to cross after the 
enemy should have been driven out by 




C^^ 




Hunter's division; the iiftli division, 
Miles's, to be in reserve on the Centreville 
ridge. The fourth division, Runyon's, 
had not been brought to the front farther 
than to guard the federal communications 
by way of Vienna and the Orange and 
Alexandria railroad. 

The divisions, says General JIcDowell, 
were ordered to march at half-jiast two 
o'clock, A. M., so as to arrive on the ground 
early in the day, and thus avoid the heat. 
There was delay in the first division get- 
ting out of its camp on the road, and the 
other divisions were in conseijuence be- 



tween two and three hours behind the time 
appointed — a great misfortune, as events 
turned out. General Tyler commenced 
with his artillery at half-past six A. M., 
but the enemy did not reply, and after 
some time it became a question whether he 
was in any force in our front, and if he did 
not intend himself to make an attack, and 
make it by Blackburn's Ford. After firing 
several times, and olitaining no response, I 
held, (says this officer,) one of Heintzel- 
man's brigades in reserve, in case we should 
liave to send any troops back to re-enforce 
Miles's division. The other I)rigade8 
moved forward as directed in the general 
orders. On reaching the ford, at Sudley's 
Spring, I fovmd ])art of the leading brig- 
ade of Hunter's division, Burnside'.s, had 
crossed, but the men were slow in 
getting over, stopping to drink. As 
at this time the clouds of dust from 
the direction of Manassas indicated 
the immediate approach of a large 
force, and fearing it might come 
down on the head of the column be- 
fore the division could all get over 
and sustain it, orders were sent back 
to the heads of regiments to break 
from the column and come forward 
separately as fast as possible. Orders 
were sent by an officer to the reserve 
brigade of Heiiitzelman's division to 
come by a nearer road across the 
fields, and an aid-<le-< amp was sent to 
Tyler to direct him to press forward 
liis attack, as large bodies of the 
enemy were passing in front of him 
to attack the division which had crossed 
over. The ground between the stream 
and the road leading from Sudley's 
Spring south and over which Burnside's 
brigade marched, was for about a mile 
from the ford thickly wooded, whilst on 
the right of the road, for about the same 
distance, the country was divided between 
fields and woods. About a mile from the 
road, the country on both sides of the 
road is open, aiul, for nearly a mile 
further, largo rolling fields e.vtend down 
to the Warrenton turnpike, which crosses 
wl'.ifc became the field of battle, through 



M 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



783 



the valley of a small water course, a tribu- 
tary of Bull Run. 

CoHcerning the general action, the offi- 
cial report says : Shortly after the leading 
regiment of the first brigade reached the 
open space, and whilst others and the 
second brigade were crossing to the front 
and right, the enemy opened his fire, 
beginning with artillery and following up 
with infantry. The leading brigade. Burn- 
side's, had to sustain this shock for a short 
time without support, and did it well. 
The battalion of regular infantry was sent 
to sustain it, and shortly afterwards the 
other corps of Porter's brigade, and a reg- 
iment detached from Heintzelman's divis- 
ion to the left, forced the enemy back far 
enough to allow Sherman's and Keyes's 
brigades of Tyler's division to cross from 
their position on the Warrenton road. 
These drove the right of the enemy from 
the front of the field, and out of the .de- 
tached woods, and down to the road, and 
across it up the slopes on the other side. 
Whilst this was going on, Heintzelman's 
division was moving down the field to the 
stream, and up the road beyond. Beyond 
the Warrenton road, and to the left of the 
road, down which our troops lia<l marched 
from Sudley's Spring, is a hill with a 
farmhouse on it. Behind this hill, the 
enemy had, early in the day, some of his 
must annoying batteries planted. Across 
the road from this hill was another hill, 
and the hottest part of the contest was for 
the possession of this hill with a house on 
it. The force engaged here was Heintzel- 
man's division, Wilcox's and Howard's 
brigades on the right, supported b3' part 
of Porter's brigade and the cavalry under 
Palmer, and Franklin's brigade of Heiut- 
zelnum's division, Sherman's brigade of 
Tyler's division in the center and iip the 
road, whilst Keyes's brigade of Tyler's 
division was on the left, attacking the bat- 
teries near the stone bridge. The Rhode 
Island batte^' of Burnside's brigade also 
participated in this attack by its fire from 
the north of the turnpike. Rickett's bat- 
tery, which did such effective service and 
plaj'ed so lirilliant a part in this contest, 



was, together with Griffin's battery, on the 
side of the hill, and became the object of 
the enemy's special attention, who .suc- 
ceeded — our officers mistaking one of his 
regiments for one of our own, and allowing 
it to approach without firing upon it — in 
disabling the batter\', and then attempted 
to take it. Three times was he repulsed 
by different corps in succession, and 
driven back, and the guns taken by hand, 
the horses being killed, and pulled away. 
The third time it was supposed by all that 
the repulse was final, for he was driven 
entirely from the hill, and so far beyond 
it as not to be in sight, and all were cer- 
tain the day was ours. He had before this 
been driven nearly a mile and a half, and 
was be3ond the Warrenton road, which 
was entirely in our possession from the 
stone bridge westward, and our engineers 
wei'e just completing the removal of the 
abattis across the road, to allow our re-en- 
forcements — Schenck's brigade and Ayers's 
battery — to join us. 

After describing the condition of the 
confederate army at this time as disheart- 
ened and broken, General McDowell ex- 
plaius some of the causes that led to the 
disastrous fate which befell the federal 
army. They had been fighting since half- 
past ten o'clock in the morning, and it was 
after three in the afternoon. The men had 
been up since two o'ck.ck in the morning, 
and had made what to those unused to 
such things seemed a long march before 
coming into action, though the longest 
distance gone over was not more than nine 
and a half miles ; and though they had 
three days' provisions served out to them 
the day before, many no doubt either did 
not eat them, or threw them away on the 
march or during the buttle, and were 
therefore without food. They had done 
much severe fighting. Some of the regi- 
ments which had been driven from the 
hill in the first two attempts of the enemy 
to get possession of it had become shaken, 
were unsteady, and had manj- men out of 
the ranks. 

It was at this time, says McDowell, 
that the enemy's re-enforcements came to 



784 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177C-187G. 



liis aid from tlic railroad train. They 
tlircw tlieinsi'lves in the woods on our 
right and towards the rear of our right, 
and opened a fire of musketry on our men, 
which caused tliem to break and retire 
down the hillside. This soou degenerated 
into disorder, for which there was no rem- 
edy. Every effort was made to rally them, 
even beyond the rearh of the enemy's lire, 
but in vain. The battalion of regular 
infantry alone moved up the hill opixi-iite 
to the one with the house on it, and there 
maintained itself until our men could get 
down to and across the Warrenton turn- 
pike, on the way back t) the position we 
occupied in the morning. The plain was 
covered with the retreating trcops, and 




many without officers, they became inter- 
mingled, and all organiz;ition was lost. 

The onset of that tunmltuous retreat is 
described by those who witnessed it as ter- 
rific. For three miles, hosts of federal 
troops — all detached from their regiments, 
all mingled in one disorderly rout — were 
fleeing along the road, but mostly through 
the lots on either side. Army wagons, 
sutlers' teams, and private carriages, 
choked the passage, tumbling against each 
other, amid clouds of dust, and sickening 
sights and sounds. Hacks, containing 
unlucky spectators of the battle, were 
smashed like glass, and the occupants were 
lost sight of in the ddirix. Horses, flying 
wildly from the battle-field, many of them 
in death agony, galloped at random foi> 
ward, joining in the stampede. Those 
on foot who could catch them ro<le them 
bare-back, as much to save themselves 
from being run over, as to make (piicker 
time. Wounded men, lying along the 
banks — the few neither left on the field 
nor taken to the captured hospitals — 
appealed with raised hands to those 
who rode horses, bogging to be lifted 
behind, but few regarded such peti- 
tions. Then the artillery, such as was 
saved, came thundering along, smashing 
~ I and overpowering everything. The cav- 

■-^^x/2t ''''•> '^'''''^^^^ to all these terrors, for they 

' ' ' ' •.! .^ mercy. 



they seemed to infect those with whom 
they came in contact. The retreat soon 
became a rout, and this soon degenerated 
into a panic. Finding this state of affairs 
was beyond the efforts of all those who 
had assisted so faithfully during the long 
and hard day's work in gaining almost the 
object of their wishes, and that nothing 
remained on the field but to recognize 
what could no longer be prevented, Gen- 
eral McDowell gave the necessary orders 
to protect their withdrawal, begging the 
men to form in line, and after the appear- 
ance, at least, of organization. They re- 
turned by the fords to the Warrenton road, 
protected by Colonel Porter's force of reg- 
ulars. Once on the road, and the different 
corps coming together in small parties, 



ro<le down footmen without 
An artilleryman was seen running between 
the ponderous fore and after wheels of his 
gun-carriage, hanging on with both hands, 
and vainly striving to jump upon the 
ordnance ; but the drivers were spurring 
the horses; he could not cling much longer, 
and a more agonized expression never 
fixed the features of a drowning man ; the 
carriage bounded from the roughness of a 
steep hill leading to a creek, he lost his 
hold, fell, and in an instant the great 
wheels had crushed the life out of him. 
An<l still the flight continued. It did not 
slack in the least until Cyitreville was 
reached. There the sight of the reserve 
— Miles's brigade — formed in order on the 
hill, seemed somewhat to reassure the van. 
l?ut still the teams and foot soldiers pushed 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



785 



on, passing their own camps and heading 
swiftly for the distant PotomaCj until for 
ten miles the road over which the grand 
army had so lately marched southward, 
gay with unstained banners, and flushed 
with surety of strength, was covered with 
the fragments of its retreating forces, shat- 
tered and panic-stricken in a single day. 
From the branch route the trains attached 
to Hunter's division had caught the con- 
tagion of the flight, and poured into its 
already swollen current another turbid 
freshet of confusion and dismaj-. The 
teamsters, many of them, cut the traces of 
their horses, and galloped from their 
wagons. Others threw out their loads to 
accelerate their flight, and grain, picks, 
and shovels, and provisions of every kind, 
laj' trampled in the dust for leagues. 
Thousands of muskets strewed the route, 
and when some of the fugitives were ral- 
lied and induced to form into a line, there 
was hardly one but had thrown away his 
arms. 

Many who went into the battle with 
Heintzelman and Hunter fled by the road 
over which Tyler had advanced. In the 
general race, all divisions and all regiments 
were mingled. Thei-e was not even an 
attempt to cover the retreat of Tyler's 
division. With Heintzelmau's it was bet- 
ter ; Lieutenant Drummond's cavalry 
troop keeping firm line, and protecting the 
artillery until its abandonment was imper- 
atively ordered. Regulars and volunteers 
shared the disorder alike. Whole batter- 
ies were left upon the field, and the cutting 
off of others was ordered when the guns 
had already been brought two miles or 
more from the battle-ground. A j)erfect 
frenzy was upon almost every man. Some 
cried piteously to be assisted in their help- 
lessness, and others sought to clamber into 
wagons, the occupants resisting them with 
bayonets. Even the sentiment of shame 
had gone. Some of the better men tried 
to withstand the rush, and cried out 
against the flying groups, calling them 
" cowards, poltroons, brutes," and reviling 
them for so degrading themselves, esjie- 

cially when no enemy was near. 
50 



There were, of course, numerous excep- 
tions to the general spirit of fear and 
frenzy. Thus, when the order was given 
at head-quarters for retreat, the word was 
passed down the line to the New York 
Zouaves. " Do not ! " exclaimed a score 
of the " pet lambs " in a breath ; " Do 
not ! " " We are ordered to retreat," said 
the commander, to his brave men. 
"Wot'n thunder's that?" responded one 
of the hard-heads, who evidently did not 
comprehend the word exactly. " Go back 
— retire," continued the commander. " Go 
back — where ? " " Leave the field." 
" Leave ? Wliy, that ain't what we come 
for. We're here to fight," insisted the 
boys. " We came here with one thousand 
forty men," said the commander ; " and 
there are now six hundred left. Fall 
back, boys ! " and the " lambs " sulkily 
retired, evidently displeased with the 
order. It was these who received the first 
charge of the famous Black Horse Guard, 
a sjjlendid corps of cavalry, all the horses 
of which were coal-black. They came 
upon the Zouave regiment at a gallop, and 
were received by the brave firemen upon 
their poised bayonets, followed instantly 
by a volley, from which thej' broke and 
fled, though several of the Zouaves were 
cut down in the assault. They quickly 
returned, with their forces doubled — per- 
haps six or seven hundred — and again they 
dashed with fearful yells upon the excited 
Zouaves. This time they boi-e an Ameri- 
can flag, and a part of the Zouaves suj)- 
posed for an instant that they were friends, 
whom they had originally mistaken. The 
fiag was quicklj' thrown down, however, 
the horses dashed upon the regiment, the 
?-Mse was discovered, and the slaughter com- 
menced. No quarter, no halting, no flinch- 
ing, marked the rapid and death-dealing 
blows of the men, as they closed in upon 
each other, in mutual madness and desperar 
tion. The brave fellows fell, the ranks filled 
up, the sabers, bowie-knives, and bayonets, 
glistened in the sunlight, horse after horse 
went down, platoon after platoon disap- 
peared, — the carnage was dreadful, the 
bravery on both sides unexampled. 



(86 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




BATTLE OF BULL RUN. 



Blenker's brigade did heroic serrico. 
Steady and watcliful, lie held his line 
througliout the evening, advancing his 
skirmishers at every token of attack, and 
spreading a sure protection over the multi- 
tudes wlio fled disordered tlirough his col- 
umns. With three regiments he stood to 
fight against an outnumbering host al- 
ready flushed with victory and eager to 
complete its triumph. As the darkness 
increased, his j)ost became more perilous 
and more honorable. At eleven o'clock, the 
attack came ujjon the advance company of 
Colonel Stahel's rifles, not in force, but 
from a body of cavalry whose successful 
passage would have been followed bj' a full 
force, and the consequent destruction of 
the broken hosts of the routed army. But 
the cavalry was driven back, and never 
returned, and at two in the morning, the 
great body of federal troojjs having passed 
and found their road to safety, the com- 



mand was given to retreat in order, and 
the brigade fell slowly and regularly back, 
with the same precision as if on parade. 
Over and over again, Blenker begged per- 
mission to maintain his post, or even to 
advance. " Itetrfdt !" said he in a voice 
of tluiudcr, to the messenger from head- 
quarters, "bring me the word to go on, 
sir ! " But the command was peremptory, 
and he was left no alternative. 

As an illustration of the almost univer- 
sal lack of military order and discipline 
characterizing the conduct of the federal 
army, after being seized with jjanic, the 
following is in point: At five o'clock P. 
M., the New York Si.xteenth and Thirty- 
first regiments being well in advam-e 
toward Blackburn's ford, were called ujion 
to stem the tide of the Virginia cavalry, 
who were swooping at the retreating 
forces. An order from Miles, conse- 
quently, sent tiie First California regi- 



GREAT Al^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



787 



ment, under Colonel Matheson of the New 
York Thirty-second, forward to their sup- 
port ; but, tliougli the cavalry was thus 
turned to the right about, it was found 
impossible to withstand the mad career of 
the extraordinary mass that came pouring 
back upon Centreville. The best that 
could be done, therefore, was for the Cali- 
fornia regiment to stay just where it was, 
and, in absence of further orders, lend 
what aid it could to the protection of 
Green's battery, which was busily plying 
its fire upon the harassing approaches of 
the Virginia horse. While the Thirty- 
second was in this position, the Sixteenth 
and Thirty-first having passed within its 
range, a youthful orderly rode up to Colonel 
Matheson to inform that the Black Cav- 
alry, sheltered from his observation by a 
piece of woods, were coming upon the 
right, and if he would take a cut with his 
regiment across the iields, they would be 
turned back upon their errand. The evo- 
lution was performed, gave the protection 
that was desired, and the Black Horse 
gave up its purpose in that quarter. 
While the regiment, however, was adher- 
ing to this position, the same j-outli who 
had imparted the previous suggestion rode 
up to the regiment again, and told 
Matheson he had better fall back on 
Centreville, as his duty at that spot 
had been thoroughly performed. As this 
was the first sign of orders (with one 
single exception) he had received dur- 
ing the entire day, Matheson felt some 
curiosity to leara who this young lieu- 
tenant was, and whence these orders 
came ; he therefore turned sharply on 
the youtli, who, he now perceived, could 
not be more than twenty-two or three, 
and said : 

" Young man, I would like to know your 
name." 

•' I am a son of Quartermaster-General 
Meigs." 

" By whose authority, then, do you de- 
liver me these orders ? " 

" Well, sir," replied the youth, smiling, 
'■the truth is, that for the last few hours 
I have been giving all the orders for this 



division, and acting as general, too, for 
there is no general on the field." 

The fortunes of war seemed to favor the 
confederate army, in some respects quite 
unlooked for, during the day's struggle, 
though at one time their fate hung trem- 
bling in the balance. Generals Bartow and 
Bee had been stricken down ; Lieutenant- 
Colonel Johnson, of the Hampton Legion, 
had been killed; and Colonel Hampton 
had been wounded. General Beauregard, 
however, promptly offered to lead the 
Legion into action, which he executed in 
a style unsurpassable. He rode up and 
down the lines between the federal troops 
and his own men, regardless of the heavy 
firing, cheering and encouraging his 
troops. About this time, a shell struck 
his horse, taking his head off, and also 
killing the horses of two of his aids. 
General Johnston threw himself into the 
thickest of the fight, seizing the colors of 
the Georgia regiment, and rallying them 
to the charge. At this critical moment. 
General Johnston was heard to exclaim to 
General Cocke, " Oh, for four regiments ! " 
His wish was answered, for in the distance 
some re-enforcements appeared. The tide 
of battle now turned in their favor, for 
Gen. Kirby Smith had arrived from Win- 
chester with four thousand men. General 
Smith heard while on the Manassas rail- 
road cars the roar of battle. He stopped 
the train and hurried his troops across the 
field to the point just where he had been 
most needed. They were at first supposed 
to be federal troops, their arrival at that 
jioint of the field being so entirely unex- 
pected. Jefferson Davis left Richmond 
at six o'clock in the morning, and reached 
Manassas Junction at four, where, mount- 
ing a horse, and accompanied by numerous 
attendants, he galloped to the battle-field 
just in time to join in the pursuit by a 
magnificent body of cavalry. As ho waved 
his hat, and exclaimed "Onward, my brave 
comrades ! " cheer after cheer went up 
from the enthusiastic host. Thus, with 
the arrival of Davis on the field, the con- 
federate army may be said to have had 
three commanders-in-chief during the 



788 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



cour.se of the battle. The whole .south 
was, of course, jubilant over the victory 
which their arms had acliieved. Te 
Deumx were sung in the churclu-s. and a 
day of tlianli.sgiving ohscrvcd. Through- 
out the north, the gloum and humilia- 
tion at this most unlooked-for defeat was 
intense. 

According to General McDowell's report, 
the federal army's losses in this engage- 
ment were 481 killed and 1,011 wounded. 
The confederate losses, according to Gen- 
eral Beauregard's report, counted up 269 
killed and 1,533 wounded. An immense 
quantity of ordnance, ammunition, etc., 
fell into the hands of the victors. 



In the summer of 1865, on the return of 
peace, a monument was erected by friends 
of the Union, about three-fourths of a mile 
beyond Bull Run bridge, in "memory of 
the patriots " who fell in this celebrated 
battle, and the dedicatory ceremonies 
consisted of a solemn dirge, the reading 
of the Episcopal burial-service, the singing 
of an original hymn composed by Pierpont, 
and addresses by Generals Wilcox, Farns- 
worth, Heintzelman, and others. The 
interest attaching to this famous battle- 
field, viewed in all its historic circum- 
stances and consequences, is not exceeded 
V)y that of any other on the American con- 
tinent. 



XOII. 

EXTRAORDINARY COMBAT BETWEEN THE IRON-CLADS 

MERRIMAC AND MONITOR, IN HAMPTON 

ROADS.— 1862. 



Suilden Appearance of the Merrimac Among the Federal Frigates. — Their Swift and Terrible Destruc- 
tion by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of the " Little Monitor " at the Scene of Action. — She 
Engages and Disables the Monster Craft in a Four Hours' Fight. — Total Revolution in Naval War- 
fare the World Over by this Remarkable Contest. — How the Merrimac Changed Hands. — Burned and 
Sunk at Norfolk, Va — Her Hull Raised by the Confederates. — She is Iron Roofed and Plated. — Proof 
Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel Beak in Her Prow — Most Formidable Vessel Afloat. — 
In Command of Commodore Buchanan. — Departs from Norfolk, March 8th. — Pierces and Sinks the 
Cumberland. — Next Attacks the Congress. — The Noble Frigate Destroyed. — Fight Begun with the 
Minnesota. — Suspended at Nightfall. — Trip of the Monitor from New York. — Her New and Singular 
Build. — Lieutenant Worden Hears of the Battles. — Resolves to Grapple with the Monster. — The Two 
Together, Next Day. — A Scene Never to be Forgotten. — Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune. — 
Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimac. 



" Bk it Rbsolvkd, bto., That the thanks of Con^rfss and of the American people are due, and are hereby tendered, to Lieutenant J. 
L. Worden. of the United Statea Navy, and to the officers and men of the iron-clad gun-boat Monitor, under his command, for the skill and 
gallantry exhibited by them in the late remarkable battle between the Monitor and the rebel iron-clad bteamer Merrimac."— Resolution 
Passed iir co.vqkess. 



UITTIXG the city of Norfolk, Va., on the eighth 
of March, 1862, the confederate iron-clad steam- 
ram Merrimac sailed down Elizabeth river into 
Hampton Eoads, Chesapeake Bay, and there sig- 
nalized the naval history of the civil war in Amer- 
ica by an action not only memorable beyond all 
others in that tremendous conflict, but altogether 
unprecedented in the annals of ocean warfare in 
Huy country or in any age. On the abandonment 
and destruction, by fire, of the Norfolk navy yard, 
in April, 1861, by the United States officers in 
charge, among the vessels left behind was the 
steam frigate Merrimac, of four thousand tons 
burden, then under repair. In the conflagration 
she was burned to her copper-line, and down 
through to her berth-deck, which, with her spar 
and gun-decks, was also burned. Soon after the confederate authorities took possession 
of the navy yard, the Merrimac was raised and converted into an iron-plated man-of-war 
of the most formidable character. Immediately after this, she was placed upon the dry 




INTERIOR OF THE TOWER OF THE MONITOR. 



790 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



dock, and covered with a sloping roof of 
iron plates three inches thick, the weight 
of which nearly broke her down upon the 
dock. Owing to some miscalculation when 
launched, she sank four feet deeper than 
before, and took in considerable water. She 
was, in consequence, obliged to be docked a 
second time. Her hull was cut down to 
within three feet of her water-mark, over 
which the bomb-proof house covered her 
gun-deck. She was also iron-plated, and her 
bow and stern .steel-clad, with a projecting 
snout of iron for the pui-po.se of piercing 
an antagonist. She had no masts, and 
there was nothing to be seen over her gun- 
deck but the pilot-house and smoke-stack. 
Her bomb-proof was throe inches thick, 
and consisted of wrought iron. Her arma- 
ment consisted of four eleven-inch navy 
gun.s, broadside, and two one-hundred- 
pounder rifled guns at the bow and stern. 
She was now named the Virginia, though 
she continued to be known as the Merri- 
mac. She was commanded by Com. Frank- 
lin Buchanan, formerlj' commandant of the 
Washington navy j'ard. 

The time chosen for her departure for 
Hampton Roads was one peculiarly adajited 
for the trial of her prowess. The federal 
fleet in that vicinity comprised the sloop- 
of-war Cunil)erland, the sailing-frigate 
Congress, the steam-frigates Minnesota, 
St. Lawrence, and Roanoke — the latter in 
a disabled condition from a broken shaft, 
together with a number of improvised 
gun-boats of a small grade. The Cumber- 
land and Congress were anchored before 
the entrenched federal camp at Newport 
News, the Roanoke and St. Lawrence near 
the Rip Raps, and the Minnesota in front 
of Fortress Monroe. 

On the Merrimac coming out, on Satur- 
day, the eighth of March, she .stood directly 
across the roads toward Newport News. 
What followetl was, according to the nar- 
rative published in the Baltimore Ameri- 
can by one who had unusually favorable 
opportunities of observation, in the order 
of occurrence given below : 

As soon as the Merrimac was made out 
and her direction ascertained (says the 



narrative referred to), the crews were beat 
to quarters on both the Cumberland and 
Congress, and preparations made for what 
was felt to be an almost hopeless tight, but 
the determination to make it as desperate 
as possible. The Merrimac kept straight 
on, making, according to the best estimates, 
about eight miles an hour. As she passed 
the mouth of Nanscmond river, the Con- 
gress threw the tirst shot at her, which 
was immediately answered. The Merri- 
mac passed the Congress, discharging a 
broadside at her,^-one shell from which 
killed and disabled every man except one 
at gun No. Ten, — and kept on toward the 
Cumberland, which she approached at full 
speed, striking her on the port side near 
tha bow, her stem knocking port No. One 
and the bridle-port into one, whilst her 
ram, or snout, cut the Cumberland under 
water. Almost at the moment of collision, 
the Merrimac discharged from her forward 
gun an eleven-inch shell. This shell raked 
the whole gun-deck, killing ten men at 
gun No. One, among whom was master- 
mate John Harrington, and cutting off 
both arms and legs of quarter-gunner 
Wood. The water rushed in from the hole 
made below, and in five minutes the ship 
began to sink by the head. Shell and 
solid shot from the Cumberland were rained 
upon the Jlerriniac as she passed ahead, 
but the most of them glanced off harm- 
lessly from the incline of her iron-plated 
bomb-proof. 

As the Merrimac rounded to and came 
up, she again raked the Cumberland with 
a heavy lire. At this lire, sixteen men at 
gun No. Ten were killed or wounded, and 
all subsequently carried down in the sink- 
ing ship. Advancing with increased mo- 
mentum, the Merrimac now struck the 
Cumberland on the starboard side, snia.sh- 
ing her upper works and cutting another 
hole below the water-line. 

The ill-fated Cumberland now began to 
rapidly settle, and the scene became most 
horrible. The cock-pit was filled with the 
wounded, whom it was found ini|>ossible 
to bring up. The former magazine was 
under water, but powder was still supplied 



d 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



791 



from the after-magazine, and the firing 
kept steadily up by men who knew that 
the ship was sinking under them. They 
worked desperately and unremittingly, and 
amid the din and horror of the conflict 
gave cheers for their flag and the Union, 
which were joined in by the wounded. 
The decks were slippery with blood, and 
arms and legs and chunks of flesh were 
strewed about. The Merrimac laid off at 
easj' point-blank range, discharging her 
broadsides alternately at the Cumberland 
and the Congress. The water by this time 
had reached the after-magazine of the 
Cumberland. The men, however, kept at 
work, and several cases of powder were 
passed up and the guns kept in play. A 



drowned. When the order was given to 
cease firing, and to look out for their safety 
in the best way possible, numbers scam- 
pered through the port-holes, whilst others 
reached the spar-deck by the companion- 
ways. Some were unable to get out by 
either of these means, and were carried by 
the rajjidly sinking ship. 

The Cumberland sank in water nearly to 
her cross-trees. She went down with her 
flag still fli/inff, and, for some time after, 
it might still be seen flying from the mast 
above the water that overwhelmed the 
noble ship, — a memento of the bravest, 
most daring, and yet most hopeless defense 
that was ever made by any vessel belong- 
ing to any navy in the world. The men 




^^yl^jCi^ly^ y^/i^ JL/^p»^^ 



number of men in the after shell-room lin- 
gered there too long in their eagerness to 
pass up shell and were drowned. 

By this time the water had reached the 
berth or main gun-deck, and it was felt 
hopeless and useless to continue the fight 
longer. The word was given for each man 
to save himself ; but after this order, gun 
No. Seven was fired, when the adjoining 
gun, No. Six, was actually under water. 
This last shot was fired by an active little 
fellow named Matthew Tennej', whose 
courage had been conspicuous throughout 
the action. As his port was left open by 
the recoil of the gun, he jumped to scram- 
ble out, but the water rushed in with so 
much force that he was washed back and 



fought with a courage that could not be 
excelled; there was no flinching, no thought 
of surrender. The whole number lost, of 
the Cumberland's crew, was one hundred 
and twenty. Many of the scenes on board 
were deeply affecting. Two of the gunners 
at the bow-guns, when the ship was sink- 
ing, clasped their guns in their arms, and 
would not be removed, and went down 
embracing them. One gunner had both 
his legs shot away; but he made three 
steps on his bloody thighs, seized the lan- 
yard and fired his gun, falling back dead. 
Wood, who lost both arms and legs, on 
being offered assistance, cried out, "■Back 
to your guns, boys! Glve'em fits! Hur- 
rah for the flag! " He lived till she sank. 



792 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Having thoroughly demolished the Cum- 
bcrluiid, tlu' Jlerriniac now proceeded to 
deal with the Congress, the officers of 
which, having seen the fate of the Cum- 
lierlaiid, ami aware that the Congress must 
also be sunk if she remained within reach 
of the iron monster's beak, had got all sail 
on the ship, with the intention of running 
her ashore. The tug-boat Zouave also 
came out and made fast to the Cumberland, 
and assisted in towing her ashore. 

The !Morrimac then surged up, gave the 
Congress a broadside, receiving one in 
return, and getting astern, raked the Con- 
gress fore and aft. Tiiis fire was terribly 
destructive, a shell killing every man at 
one of the guns except one. Coming again 
broadside to the Congress, the Merrimac 
ranged slowly backward and forward, at 
less than one hundred yards distant, and 
fired broadside after broadside into the 
Congress. The latter vessel replied man- 
fullv and obstinately, every gun that could 
be brought to bear being discharged rap- 
idly, but with little effect upon the iron 
monster. Some of the balls caused s[)lint- 
ers of iron to Hy from her mailed roof, but 
still she seemed well nigh invulnerable. 
The Merrimac's guns ap[)eared to be s]ie- 
cially trained on the after-magazine of the 
Congress, and shot after shot entered tliat 
part of the ship. 

Thus slowly drifting down with the 
current and again steaming up, the Merri- 
mac continued for an hour to fire into her 
opponent. Several times the Congress was 
on lire, but the flames were kept down. 
Finally, the ship was on fire in so many 
places, and the flames gathering such force, 
that it was liopeless and suicidal to keep 
up the defense any longer. The federal 
flag was sorrowfully hauled down and a 
white flag hoisttil at tlio peak. After it 
was hoisted, thd Merrimac continued to 
fire, perhaps not discovering the white flag, 
but soon after ceased firing. 

A small confederate tug that liad fol- 
lowed the Merrimac out of Norfolk tlicn 
came alongside the Congress, and a yuinig 
officer gained the gun-deck tlirough a port- 
hole, announced that he came on board to 



take command, and ordered the officers on 
board the tug. The officers of the Con- 
gress refused to go, hoping from the near- 
ness to the shore that they would be able 
to reach it, and unwilling to become pris- 
oners whilst the least chance of escape 
remained. Some of the men, thinking the 
tug was a federal vessel, rushed on board. 
At this moment, the members of an Indi- 
ana regiment, at Newport News, brought 
a Parrott gun down to the beach and 
opened fire upon the tug. The latter 
hastily put off, and the ^Merrimac again 
opened fire upon the Congress. The fire 
not being returned from the ship, the Mer- 
rimac commenced shelling the woods and 
camps at Newport News. 

By the time all were ashore, it was 
seven o'clock in the evening, and the Con- 
gress was in a liright sheet of flame fore and 
aft. She continued to burn until twelve 
o'clock at night, her guns, wliich were 
loaded and trained, going off as they became 
heated. Finally-, the fire reached her mag- 
azines, and with a tremendous concussion 
her charred remains blew up. There were 
some five tons of gunpowder in her mag- 
azines, and about twenty thousand dollars 
in the safe of paymaster Buchanan, the 
latter officer being an own brother to the 
commander of the Merrimac. The loss of 
life on board the Congress was lamentable. 

After sinking the Cumberland and firing 
the Congress, the Merrimac (witli her 
companions the Yorktown and James- 
town,) stood off in the direction of the 
Minnesota, which, in trying to reach the 
scene of action, had run aground, and 
could not be moved. An exchange of shot 
and shell, however, took jilace between the 
vessels, after which, nightfall setting in, 
the Merrimac steamed in under Sewall's 
Point, expecting the next day to capture 
the Minnesota as a prize, instead of destroy- 
ing her. The day thus closed dismally for 
the federal side, and with the most gloomy 
api)reliensions of what would occur the 
next day. The Minnesota was at the 
mercy of the Merrimac, and there appeared 
no reason why the iron monster might not 
clear tli<' Koads of the whole fleet, and 



i 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



793 



destroy all the stores and wareliouses on 
the beach. Saturday, therefore, was a 
night of terror at Fortress Monroe. 

But just here, the chief event of interest 
centers. It was at night, the moon shin- 
ing brightly, when, totally unexpected, 
there came into tliose blood-dyed waters, 
the little gun-boat Monitor, from New York, 
— a vessel which had just been completed, 
from designs of Mr. Ericsson, and differ- 
ing materially from any vessel ever before 
constructed, and believed by its inventor 
to be absolutely invulnerable. Externally, 
it had the appearance of a long, oval raft, 
rising only eighteen inches above the 
water, with a low, round tower upon its 
center. This raft was the upper part of 
the hull of the vessel, and was plated with 
iron so as to be ball-proof ; it projected on 
every side beyond the lower hull, which 
contained the machinery. The tower, con- 
taining two heavy guns, the only arma- 
ment of the battery, was of iron, and nearly 
a foot in thickness, and so constructed as 
to revolve, bringing the guns to bear upon 
any point. This tower, nine feet high and 
twenty in diameter, and a pilot-house, ris- 
ing three feet, were all that appeared upon 
the smooth, level deck. She was com- 
manded bj' Lieutenant Worden, U. S. N., 
and, though a mere pigmy, in size and 
armament, compared with the Merrimac, 
was soon to measure her prowess with the 
latter, in a contest such as had never 
entered into the imagination even of Mr. 
Ericsson himself. 

The succeeding day, Sunday, dawned 
fair. As the sun broke on the horizon, a 
slight haze was visible on the water, which 
prevented an extended vision. At half 
past six, A. M., this haze cleared away. 
Looking toward Sewall's Point, there 
.appeared the Merrimac, and her attend- 
ants, the steamers Yorktown and Patrick 
Henry. They were stationary, — the Mer- 
rimac to the right of the others, blowing 
off steam. They seemed deliberating what 
to do — whether to move on to attempt the 
destruction of the Minnesota, which was 
yet aground, or move on to the federal 
fleet anchored near the Rip Raps. At 



seven o'clock, a plan seemed to have been 
adopted, and the Merrimac steamed in the 
direction of the Minnesota, which was still 
aground. The Yorktown and Jamestown 
were crowded with troops, and steamed 
slowly after the Merrimac. The latter 
steamed along with boldness until she was 
within three miles of the Minnesota, when 
the Monitor essayed from behind the lat- 
ter, and proceeded toward the Merrimac. 
It should here be mentioned, that when 
Lieutenant Worden first arrived in the 
Roads and was informed of what had 
occurred, though his crew were suffering 
from exposure and loss of rest from a 
stormy voyage around from New York, he 
at once made preparations for taking part 
in whatever might take place the next day. 
To this end, the Monitor moved up, before 
daylight on Sunday morning, and took a 
position alongside the Minnesota, lying 
between the latter ship and the fortress, 
where she could not be seen by the enemy, 
but was ready, with steam up, to slip out. 

At the sudden appearance of so strange- 
looking and diminutive a craft as the Mon- 
itor, the confederate monster seemed non- 
plussed, and hesitated, no doubt in wonder- 
ment that such an unaccountable and 
apparently insignificant an object should 
be making so bold an approach. 

The Merrimac now closed the distance 
between her and the Monitor, until they 
were within a mile of each other. Both 
batteries stopped. The Merrimac fired a 
shot at the Minnesota, to which no reply 
was made. She then fired at the Monitor ; 
the latter replied, hitting the Merrimac 
near the water-line. The Merrimac then 
commenced firing very rapidly, first from 
her stern gun at the Monitor, and then 
her broadside guns, occasionally firing a 
shot at the Minnesota. The fight went on 
in this waj' for an hour or two, both ves- 
sels exchanging shots pretty freely. Some- 
times the Merrimac would retire, followed 
by the Monitor, and sometimes the reverse. 

While the fight between the batteries 
was going on, one hundred solid nine-inch 
shot were sent up from Fortress Monroe 
on the steamer Rancocas to the Minnesota. 



794 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



't|i 




At a quarter-past ten o'clock, the Merri- 
mac and Monitor had come into pretty 
close quarters, the former giving the latter 
two broadsides in su<-oession. It was 
replied to promptly by the Monitor. The 
tiring was so rapid that both craft were 
obscured in columns of white smoke for a 
moment or more. The rivmparts of the 
fort, the rigging of the vessels in port, the 
houses, and the bend, were all crowded 
with sailors, soldiers and civilians. When 
the rapid firing alluded to took place, these 
spectators were singularly silent, as if 
doubtful as to the result. Their impatience 
was soon removed by the full figure of the 
Monitor, with the stars and stripes flying 
at her stern, steaming around the Merri- 
^ mac, moving with the ease of a duck on 
§ the water. The distance between the ves- 
= sels was forty feet. In this circuit, the 
= Monitor's guns were not idle, as she fired 
;^ shot after shot into her antagonist, two of 
? which penetrated the monster's sides. 
2 At eleven, A. M., the Minnesota opened 
S fire, and assisted the Monitor in engaging 
= the Merrimac. She fired nine-inch solid 
'\ 7: shot with good accuracy, but with appar- 
t ently little effect. The Merrimac returned 
■i the fire, firing shell, one of whicli struck 
5 and exploded the boiler of the gun-boat 
T Dragon, which was alongside the Minne- 
j sota, endeavoring to get her off. For the 
> next hour, the battle raged fiercely between 
'■'• the Merrimac on the one side, and her 
antagonists, the Monitor, Minnesota, and 
Wliitcliall, but with no important result. 
The Minnesota being the best mark for 
the Merrimac, the latter fired at her fre- 
quently, alternately giving the Monitor a 
sliiit. The Jlcrriniac made several attempts, 
also, to run at full speed past the Monitor, 
to attack and run down the Minnesota. 
All these attempts were parried, as it were, 
by the Monitor. In one of these attempts 
by the Merrimac, she ran her prow or ram 
with full force against the side of the 
Monitor; but it only had the effect of 
careening the latter vessel in the slightest 
degree. The Yorktown and Patrick Henry 
kept at a safe distance from the Monitor. 
The former vessel, at the beginning of the 



GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



795 



fight, had the temerity to come within 
respectable range of the Monitor. The 
latter fired one shot at her, which carried 
away her pilot-house, and caused her to lose 
no time in retiring. 

As the Monitor carried but two guns, 
whilst the Merrimac had eight, of course 
she received two or three shots for every 
one she gave. The fight raged hotly on 
both sides, the opposing batteries moving 
around each other with great skill, ease, 
and dexterity. The Merrimac, though the 
strongest, did not move with the alertness 
of her antagonist ; hence the Monitor had 
the advantage of taking choice of position. 
At a quarter before twelve o'clock, noon, 
Lieutenant Hepburn, the signal officer on 
the ramparts at Fortress Monroe, reported 
to General Wool that the Monitor had 
pierced the sides of the Merrimac, and in 
a few minutes the latter was in full retreat. 
Whether true, or not, that tlie Merrimac's 
armor had actually been penetrated, her 
iron prow had become so wrenched in 
striking the sides of her antagonist, that 
the timbers within were started, and the 
vessel leaked badly. The little Monitor 
followed the retreating Merrimac until she 
got well inside Sewall's Point, and then 
returned to the Minnesota. It is probable 
that the pursuit would have been con- 
tinued still farther, but Lieutenant Worden 
had previously had his eyes injured, and it 
was felt that, as so much depended on the 
Monitor, it was imprudent to expose her 
unnecessarily. At the time he was injured. 
Lieutenant Worden was looking out of the 
eye-holes of the pilot-house, which were 
simply horizontal slips, half an inch wide. 
A round shot struck against these slits as 
Lieutenant Worden was looking through, 
causing some scalings from the iron and 
fragments of cement to fly with great force 
against his eyes, utterly blinding him for 
some days, and permanently destroying 
the power of his left eye. Stunned by 
the concussion, he was carried away 
helpless. 

On recovering sufficiently to speak, he 
asked — 

" Have I saved the Minnesota ? " 



" Yes, and whipped the Merrimac" was 
the answer. 

" Then I don't care what becomes of me" 
said Lieutenant Worden. 

No other real damage was received by 
the Monitor, during the action ; the deep- 
est indentation received by her was on 
the side, amounting to four and one-half 
inches ; on the turret, the deepest was one 
and one-half inches ; and on the deck, one- 
half inch. The Merrimac, in addition to 
the injur}' already mentioned, had her 
anchor and flag-staff shot away, her smoke- 
stack and steam-pipe riddled, two of her 
crew killed and eight wounded, including 
her commander, Buchanan. The latter 
officer went out on his deck, was seen by 
the federal sharp-shooters at Camp Butler, 
and was shot with a minie rifle ball in his 
left leg, which maimed him for life. His 
exploits gained him great favor at the 
south, and he was subsequently made 
Admiral of the Confederate States navy. 
The praises of Lieutenant Worden filled 
every loyal mouth, and he was successfully 
promoted to the highest rank in the ser- 
vice. 

Withdrawing to Norfolk, the Merrimac 
underwent extensive repairs for some 
weeks, and was provided with ordnance of 
great power. She then took her station 
at the mouth of the Elizabeth river, guard- 
ing it, and threatening the United States 
vessels in the Roads, but, on account of 
some defects in her working, not ventur- 
ing an attack. Finally, Norfolk having 
surrendered to the Union forces. May 10th, 
and the Merrimac being found to draw too 
much water to admit of her being removed 
up the river, she was on the 12th aban- 
doned and set on fire, and soon after blew 
up. 

The loss of two such fine war vessels as 
the Cumberland and Congress, with some 
four hundred brave men, cast a gloom over 
the nation, the weight of which was only 
relieved by the heroism displayed in their 
defense. Indeed, one of the greatest in- 
stances of patriotic devotion ever recorded 
in our own or any other nation's naval his- 
tory, is that which narrates the closing 



706 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



scene on board the Cumberland. Neither 
the shots of the Congress, nor of the Cuui- 
berhmd, liad aii^' more effi-ct, for the most 
part, upon the iron-mailed Merrimao, than 
if they had been so many peas. But if 
they could have kept the Merrimac off, she 
never could have sunk the Cumberland. 
They had then nothing to do but stand and 
fight and die like men. Buchanan asked 
their commander, Lieutenant Morris — 
" Will you surrender the ship ? " 
"Never," .said Morris, "never will we 
surrender the ship." 

Buchanan then backed his huge ram off 
again, and the Cumberland fired as rapidly 
as she could, l)ut the j\Iorrimao came once 
more and ran her steel beak in; and now 
it was that Buchanan asked Lieutenant 
Morris, calling him by name — 




■' Mr. Morris, will you .surrender that 
ship ? " 

"Never," said Morris, "shiJc her ! " 

Till' remaining act in this startling 
drama is well known. The guns of the 
Cumberland witc coolly manned, loaded 
and discli;irj;od, while the vessel was in a 
sinking condition, and the good ship went 
down with her flag flying defiantly at the 
gaff. 

Similar was the bravery exhibited on 
board the ill-fated Congress. The father 
of the gallant (•omni:in<lpr of that shi]) 
(Lieutenant Josc]ih Smith), who lost his 
life in that terrible encounter, was Com- 



modore Joseph Smith, of Washington. It 
appears that the elder Smith had exerted 
himself specially to linisli the work on the 
Monitor, and hasten her departure. The 
son, too, had written repeatedly to the 
naval authorities at Washington, express- 
ing his fears for the consequences of an 
attack from the Merrimac, and urging 
plans for guarding against it. The father 
knew the spirit of his son, and that the 
only issue of a battle for him was death or 
victory. When he saw, therefore, by the 
first dispatch from Fortress Monroe, that 
the Congress had raised the white flag, he 
only remarked quietly, " Joe is dead ! " 
No Roman father ever paid a nobler or 
more emphatic tribute of confidence to a 
gallant son than is contained in the words 
80 uttered, nor ever gave that son to his 
country with more cheerful and 
entire devotion. The sad assur- 
ance was well founded. The flag 
was not struck until his son had 
fallen. 

Not less conspicuous was the 
conduct of Charles Johnston, boats- 
wain of the Congress — a fine speci- 
men of the thoriiugh seaman, who 
had been in the navy some thirty 
odd years — who greatly excited the 
admiration of the oflScers by his 
cool, unflinching courage. Sta- 
tioned in the very midst of the 
carnage committed by the raking 
lire of the Merrimac, he never lost 
his self-possession, and not for a 
moment failed to cheer on and encourage 
the men. Blinded with the smoke and 
dust, and sjil.ashed with the blood and 
brains of his slii|)mates, his cheering words 
of encouragement were still heard. After 
the engagement, from which he escaped 
unwounded, his kindness and care in pro- 
viding for the removal of the wounded, 
were untiring. The fact has already been 
mentioned that the paymaster of the Con- 
gress was an own brother of the com- 
mander of the Merrimac. His position 
was one of extreme agony, but his loyal 
heart ilid not fail him. "Just before the 
sanguinary engagement," said paymaster 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



797 



Buchanan, " I volunteered my serv- i 
ices to Lieut. Commanding Joseph B. i 
Sniitli for duty on either of the upper j 
decks, although the rebel steamer Mer- 
rimac was commanded by my own 
brother, when I received an order to take 
charge of the berth-deck division, which 
order I promptly obeyed, and, thank 



God, I did some service to my beloved 
country." 

The character of this contest may truly 
be said to have astonished the world, and 
its effect has been to revolutionize the 
principles and mode of naval warfare, ren- 
dering wooden vessels of war practically 
useless for active service. 



XCIII. 
BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD.— 1862. 



Bloodiest Day That America Ever Saw. — Nearly One Hundred Thousand Men on 'Each Side. — General 
McClellan Declares on the Field that it is " the Battle of the War." — Four Miles and Fourteen Hours 
of Fighting and Slaughter — The Shock and " Glory " of War on a Colossal Scale. — Obstinate Brav- 
ery of the Contending Foes.— Some of the Keginients Almost Annihilated. — The Union Troops 
Hold the Disputed Ground.— Lee's Great Military Ohject. — His Troops Enter Maryland.- Frowning 
Masses of Soldiery. — Surrender of Harper's Ferry. — McClellan's Army in Motion. — He Attacks the 
Enemy in Position. — Hooker Leads the Advance. — He is Shot and Disabled. — Death of General 
Mansfield. — Other Union Generals Wounded. — Reno's Untimely End. — Kain of Shot and Shell. — 
Various Fortunes of the Day. — Close and Stern Ordeal — Feat of Burnside's Corps. — Their Struggle 
for the Hill. — A Fearful Crisis with General Burnside. — He Asks for lie-enforcements. — McClellan's 
Memorable Keply. — Driving the Enemy en masse. — Forty of their Colors Taken. — The After-Scene 
of Horror. 



" Our forcei slept thtl night conquerorB on a field won by their valor, and corered with the dead and wounded of the enemy."— OEli- 

8KAL MCCLBLLA^ • OFFICIAL REfOKT. 




EAVY and melancholj- as was the loss of life 
iitti'iidiiig the bloody battle of Aiitietani, on the 
17th of September, 1862, between the Union 
and confederate armies — numbering about one 
hundred thousand brave soldiers each — and com- 
manded, respectively, by General McClellan and 
General Lee, a burden of anxiety was rolled off 
the loyal hearts of the North, when, on the 
evening of that day, there came from General 
Hooker the following thrilling disjiatch, dated 
:it Centreville, Md. : 

" A great battle has been fought, and we are 
victorious. I had the honor to open it yesterday 
afternoon, and it continued until ten o'clock this 
morning, when I was wounded, and compelled 
to quit the field. The battle was fouglit with 
great violence on both sides. The carnage has 
been awful. I only regret that I was not per- 
mitted to take part in the operations until they 
were concluded, for I had counted on either ca]i- 
turing their army or driving them into the Potomac. My wound has been painful, but 
it is not one that will be likely to lay me up. I was shot through the foot." 

One great object of General Lee, during the summer of this year, was to possess 






IICKVISO THE HE.VD XT .\.MlEr.\M 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



799 



himself of Harper's Ferry, as the base of 
future and more important operations. To 
this end, the confederate forces under Gen- 
erals Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, en- 
tered Frederick, Md., in the early part of 
September, and occupied all the adjoining 
country, their right resting on the Mono- 
cacy river. The federal army, which with 
the exception of about fourteen thousand 
men at Harper's Ferry, had been concen- 
trated near Washington, and had been 
placed under the immediate command of 
General McClellan, advanced to meet the 
enemy. Passing up the Potomac, they 
interposed in force between the confeder- 
ates and the fords by which they had 
crossed, threatening to cut off their re- 
treat in case they should be defeated. 
Perceiving this, the confederates aban- 
doned Frederick, and went northward to 
Hagerstown, which was occupied Septem- 
ber 11th. A strong body was then sent to 
attack Harper's Ferry. The assault was 
opened on the 12th and continued on the 
following day, when the federal troops 
were driven from the heights on the Mary- 
land side. On Monday morning the place 
was fairly surrounded, and fire was opened 
from seven or eight different points. On 
the morning of the 15th, Colonel Miles, 
commander at Harper's Ferry, ordered the 
white flag to be raised, to General Jackson ; 
a few moments after, he was struck by a 
shot which mortally wounded him. The 
cavalry, numbering some two thousand, 
who had been at the Ferry, cut their way 
through the enemy's lines and escaped ; 
the remainder of the troops, to the number 
of about eleven thousand, surrendered, and 
were immediately paroled. The posses- 
sion of the place was of considerable ad- 
vantage to the confederates, though they 
retained it but for one day ; the bridge 
over the Potomac not being destroyed 
enabled them to cross the river, and take 
part in the battle of Antietam, which fol- 
lowed on the 17th. 

A close pursuit was kept up by the fed- 
eral army, and, early on the morning of 
the 14th, the advance — the right and 
center under Hooker and Reno, the left 



under Franklin — came up with the enemy, 
who were strongly posted on the crest of 
the South Mountain, commanding the road 
to Hagerstown. The attack on both wings, 
which lasted from noon until nightfall, re- 
sulted in forcing the confederates from all 
their positions, so that they retreated during 
the night in the direction of Williamsport. 
In this action. General Reno was killed. 
Having hastily abandoned Harper's Ferry, 
the confederates re-crossed the Potomac, 
and joined the main body under Lee. 

In the meantime, McClellan had defi- 
nitely made his arrangements for giving 
battle to the opposing hosts. In accord- 
ance with this plan, as detailed by McClel- 
lan, in his official report. Hooker's corps, 
consisting of Rickett's and Doubleday's 
divisions, and the Pennsylvania reserves, 
under Meade, was sent across the Antie- 
tam creek, by a ford and bridge to the 
right of Kedysville, with orders to attack, 
and, if possible, turn the enemy's left. 
Mansfield, with his corps, was sent in the 
evening to supjjort Hooker. Arrived in 
position, Meade's division of the Pennsjl- 
vania reserves, which was at the head of 
Hooker's corps, became engaged in a sharp 
contest with the enem}', which lasted until 
after dark, when it had succeeded in driv- 
ing in a portion of the opposing line, and 
held the ground. At daylight the contest 
was renewed between Hooker and the 
enemy in his front. Hooker's attack was 
successful for a time, but masses of the 
enemy, thrown upon his corps, cliecked it. 
Mansfield brought up his corps to Hook- 
er's support, when the two corps drove the 
enemy back, the gallant and distinguished 
veteran Mansfield losing his life in the 
effort. General Hooker was, unhappilj^, 
about this time wounded, and compelled to 
leave the field, where his services had 
been conspicuous and important. About 
an hour after this time, Sumner's corps, 
consisting of Sedgwick's, Richardson's, and 
French's divisions, arrived on the field — 
Richardson's some time after the other 
two, as he was unable to start as soon as 
they. Sedgwick, on the right, penetrated 
the woods in front of Hooker's and Mans- 



800 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



field's troops. French and Richardson 
were placed to the left of Sedgwick, thus 
attacking the enemy toward their left 
center. Crawford's and Sedgwick's lines, 
however, yielded to a destructive fire of 
masses of the enemy in the wood.s, and, 
suffering greatly, (Generals Sedgwick and 
Crawford being .among the wounded,) thf ir 
troops fell back in disorder; they, never- 
theless, rallied in the woods. The enemy's 
advance was, however, entirely checked 
by the destructive fire of our artillery. 
Franklin, who had been directed the day 
before to join the main army with two 
divisions, arrived on the field from Browns- 
ville about an hour after, and Suiith's 
division replaced Crawford's and Sedg- 
wick's lines. Advancing steadily, it swept 




-.<it«_^ 



over the ground just lost, but now perma- 
nently retaken. The divisions of French 
and Ricliardson maintained witli consider- 
able loss the exposed positions which 
they had so gallantly gained, among the 
wounded being Gciu'ral Richardson. 

The condition of things (says General 
McClellan,) on the right, toward the mid- 
dle of the afternoon, notwithstanding the 
success wrested from the enemy by the 
stubborn bravery of the troops, was at this 
time un])romising. Sumner's, Hooker's, 
and Manstield's corps had lost heavily, 
several general officers having been carried 



from the field. I was at one time com- 
pelled to draw two brigades from Porter's 
corps (the reserve) to strengthen the right. 
This left for the reserve the small division 
of regulars who had been engaged in sup- 
porting during the day the batteries in the 
center, and a single brigade of Morell's 
division. The effect of Burnside's move- 
ment on the enemy's right was to jirevent 
the further massing of their troops on 
their left, and we held what we had gained. 
Burnside's corps, consisting of Wilcox's, 
Sturgis's, and Rodman's divisions, and 
Cox's Kanawha division, was intrusted 
with the difficult ta.sk of carrying the 
bridge across the Antietam, near Rohr- 
back's farm, and assaulting the enemy's 
right, the order having been communicated 
to him at ten A. m. The valley of the 
Antietam, at and near the bridge, is nar- 
row, with high banks. On the right of 
the stream the bank is wooded, and com- 
mands the approaches both to the bridge 
and the ford. The steep slopes of the 
bank were lined with rifle-pits and breast- 
works of rails and stones. These, together 
with the woods, were filled with the enemy's 
infantry, wliile their batteries completely 
commanded and enfiladed the bridge and 
ford and their approaches. The advance of 
the troops brought on an obstinate and san- 
guinary contest, and from the great natu- 
ral advantages of the position, it was 
nearly one o'clock before the heights on 
the right bank were carried. At about 
three o'clock, i". m., the corps again ad- 
vanced, and with success, driving the 
enemy before it, and pushing nearly to 
Sharpsburg, while the left, after a hard 
encounter, also compelled the enemy to re- 
tiro before it. The enemy here, however, 
were speedily re-enforced, and with over- 
whelming masses. New batteries of their 
artillery, also, were brought up and opened. 
It became evident that our force was not 
sufficient to enable the advance to reach 
the town, and the order was given to retire 
to the cover of the hill, which was taken 
from the enemy earlier in the afternoon. 

Of these brilliant movements, thus so 
briefly referred to by General McClellan, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



801 



a most graphic and admirable account was 
furnished by Mr. Smalley, a brilliant 
writer and an eye-witness, for the New 
York Tribune, a portion of which is here 
transcribed. 

After describing the gloomy condition 
of the federal troops on the right at one 
o'clock, Mr. Smalley says ■ All that had 
been gained in front had been lost! The 
enemy's batteries, which, if advanced and 
served vigorously, might have made sad 
work with the closely-massed troops, were 
fortunately either partially disabled or 
short of ammunition. Sumner was confi- 
dent that he could hold his own, but an- 




other advance was out of the question. 
The enemy, on the other hand, seemed to 
be too nuich exhausted to attack. At this 
crisis Franklin came up with fresh troops 
and formed on the left. Slocum, com- 
manding one division of the corps, was 
sent forward along the slopes Ij'ing under 
the first ranges of rebel hills, while Smith, 
commanding the other division, was or- 
dered to retake the cornfields and woods 
which all day had been so hotlj^ cimtested. 
It was done in the handsomest style. His 
Maine and Vermont regiments and the 
rest went forward on the run, and, cheer- 
ing as the}' went, swept like an avalanche 
through the cornfields, fell upon the woods, 
cleared them in ten minutes, and held 
them. Thej' were not again retaken. 
51 



The field and its ghastly harvest which 
the reaper had gathered in these fatal 
hours finally remained with us. Four 
times it had been lost and won. 

The splendid feat of Bumside holding 
the hill was one of the memorable deeds on 
that day of earnest action. At four o'clock 
(says Mr. Smalley,) McClellan sent simul- 
taneous orders to Burnside and Franklin ; 
to the former to advance and carry the 
batteries in his front at all hazards and at 
any cost; to the latter, to carry the woods 
next in front of him to the right, which 
the rebels still held. The order to Frank- 
lin, however, was practically counter- 
manded, in consequence of a message from 
General Sumner, that if Franklin went on 
and was repulsed, his own corps was not 
yet suflBciently reorganized to be depended 
on as a reserve. Burnside obeyed the 
order most gallantly. Getting his troops 
well in hand, and sending a portion of his 
artillery to the front, he advanced them 
with rapidity and the most determined 
vigor, straight up the hill in front, on top 
of which the confederates had maintained 
their most dangerous battery. The move- 
ment was in plain view of McClellan's 
position, and as Franklin on the other side 
sent his batteries into the field about the 
same time, the battle seemed to open in 
all directions with greater activity than 
ever. The fight in the ravine was in full 
progress, the batteries which Porter sup- 
ported were firing with new vigor, Frank- 
lin was blazing away on the right, and 
every hill-top, ridge, and piece of woods 
along the whole line was crested and veiled 
with white clouds of smoke. All day had 
been clear and bright since the early 
cloudy morning, and now this whole mag- 
nificent, unequaled scene, shone with the 
splendor of an afternoon September sun. 
Four miles of battle, its glory all visible, 
its horrors all veiled, the fate of the re- 
public hanging on the hour — could any 
one be insensible to its grandeur ? There 
are two hills on the left of the road, the 
furthest the lowest. The rebels have bat- 
teries on both. Burnside is ordered to carry 
the nearest to him, which is the furthest 



802 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




from the road. His guns opening first 
from this new jiosition in front, soon 
entirely controlled and silenced the ene- 
my's artillery. The infantry came on at 
once, moving rapidly and steailily up, 
long dark lines, and broad dark masses, 
being plainly visible without a glass as 
tliej' moved over the green hill-side. 
Underneutli was a tumult of wagons, 
guns, horses, and men flying at speed 
down the road. Blue flashes of smoke 
burst now and then among them, a 
horse or a man or a half-dozen went 
down, and then the whirlwind swept on. 
The hill was carried, but rouhl it be 
held? The rebel columns, before seen 
moving to the left, increased their pace. 
The guns, on the hill above, sent an 
angry tempest of shell down among 
Burnside's guns and men. He had 
formed his columns apparently in the 
near angles of two fields bordering the 
g road — high ground about them every- 
h where except in rear. In another mo- 
^ ment a rebel battle-line appears on the 
1 brow of the ridge above them, moves 
° swiftly down in the most perfect order, 
^ and though met by incessant discharges 
t of musketry, of which we plainly see 
the flashes, does not fire a gun. AVhite 
spaces show where men are falling, but 
they close up instantly, and still the 
line advances. The brigades of Burn- 
side are in heavy column ; they will not 
give way before a bayonet charge in line. 
The rebels think twice before they da.sh 
into these hostile masses. There is a 
halt ; the rebel left gives way and scat- 
ters over the field ; the rest stand fast 
and fire. ilore infantry conies up; 
Burnside is outnumbered, flanked, com- 
pelled to yield the hill he took so bravely. 
His position is no longer one of attack; 
he defends himself with unfaltering 
firmness, but he sends to McClellan for 
help. McClellan's glass for the last half 
hour has seldom been turned away from 
the left. He sees clearly enough tiiat 
Burnside is pressed— needs no mcsfen- 
ger to tell him that. His face grows 
darker with anxious thought. Look- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



803 



ing down into the valley, where fifteen 
thousand troops are Ij'ing, he turns a half- 
questioning look on Fitz John Porter, 
who stands by his side, gravely scan- 
ning the field. They are Porter's troops 
below, are fresh, and only impatient to 
share in this fight. But Porter slowly 
shakes his head, and one may believe that 
the same thought is passing through the 
minds of both generals — 

" They are the only reserves of the 
army : fliey cannot he sjxired.'' 

McClellan remounts his liorse, and with 
Porter and a dozen officers of his staff rides 
away to the left in Burnside's direction. 
Sykes meets them on the road — a good 
soldier, whose opinion is worth taking. 
The three generals talk briefly together. 
It is easy to see that the moment has come 
when everything may turn on one order 




GENERAL "STOSEWALL" JACKSON. 

given or withheld, when the history of the 
battle is only to be written in thoughts 
and purposes and words of the General. 
Burnside's messenger rides up. His mes- 
sage is — 

"I want troops and guns. If you do 
not spare them, I cannot hold my position 
for half an hour." 

McClellan's only answer for the moment 
is a glance at the western sky. Then lie 
turns and saj's very slowly — 

" Tell General Burnside that this is the 
battle of the war. He must hold his 
ground till dark at any cost. I will send 
him Jliller's battery. I can do nothing 
more. I have no infantry." 

Then, as the messenger was riding 
away, he called him back : 



" Tell him if he can not hold his ground, 
then the bridge to the last man ! — always 
the bridge ! If the bridge is lost, all is 
lost." 

The sun was already down ; not half an 
hour of daylight was left. Till Burnside's 
message came, it had seemed plain to every 
one that the battle could not be finished 
to-day. None suspected how near was the 
peril of defeat, of sudden attack on ex- 
hausted forces — how vital to the safety of 
the army and the nation were those fifteen 
thousand waiting troops of Fitz John Por- 
ter in the hollow. But the rebels halted 
instead of pushing on ; their vindictive can- 
nonade died awaj- as the light faded. Be- 
fore it was quite dark, the battle was over. 

With the day, (says the official report of 
the commanding general,) closed this 
memorable battle, in which, perhaps, 
nearly two hundred thoTisand men were 
for fourteen hours engaged in combat. 
We had attacked the enenij- in position, 
driven them from their line on one flank, 
and secured a footing within it on the 
other. Under the depression of previous 
reverses, we had achieved a victory over an 
adversary invested with the prestige of 
former successes and inflated with a recent 
triumph. Our forces slept that night con- 
querors on a field won by their valor, and 
covered with the dead and wounded of tlie 
eneni}'. 

This has been called the Moodiest day 
that America ever saw, and the fighting 
was followed by the most appalling sights 
upon the battle-field. Never, perhaps, was 
the ground strewn with the bodies of the 
dead and the dying in greater numbers or 
in more shocking attitudes. The faces of 
those who had fallen in the buttle were, 
after more than a day's exposure, so black 
that no one would ever have suspected 
that the}' were once white. All looked 
like negroes, and as they lay in piles where 
they had fallen, one upon another, they 
filled the bystanders with a sense of horror. 
In the road, they laj' scattered all around, 
and the stench which arose from the 
bodies decomposing in the sun was almost 
unendurable. Passing along the turnpike 



804 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



from Sliarji.shurg to Iliigcrstown, that 
niglit, it required the greatest care to keep 
one's horse from trampling upon tlie dead, 
so tliickly were tliej" strewn around. Along 
the line for not more than a single mile, at 
least one thousand five luindri'd there lay 
unhuried. 

Such a spectacle was in keeping, of 
course, with the terrible carnage incident 
to such a prolonged and constant contest 
between two such vast armies. The loss 
of the union forces in this battle was, 
according to General McClellan, two thou- 
sand an<l ten killed, nine thousand four 
hundred and si.xteen wounded, and one 
thousand and fortj--three missing; and 
their total loss in the battles of the 14th 
and 17th amounted to fourteen tliousand 
seven hundred an<l ninety-four. Of the 
confederates killed, about three tliousand 
were buried by tlie unionists, and their 




totril loss in the two battles was estimated 
by General McClellan at four thou.sand 
killed, eighteen thousand seven hundred 
and forty-two wounded, and five thousand 
prisoners, besides stragglers sufficient to 
make the number amount to some thirty 
thousand. From the time the union 
troops first encountered the confederates in 
Maryland until the latter were driven back 
into Virginia, (says McClellan,) we cap- 
tured thirteen guns, seven caissons, nine 
limbers, two field forges, two caisson bod- 
ies, thirty-nine color.s and one signal flag; 
the union ami}' lost neither gun nor color. 



The confederates also lost three of their 
bravest generals, Starke, Branch, and 
Anderson. 

(ieneral Reno's deatli was a severe blow 
to the union army. He liad been most 
active all day, fearing no <langer, and 
appearing to be everywhere at the same 
time. Safe up to seven o'clock, no one 
dreamed of such a disaster as was to ha]i- 
pen. He, with his staff, was standing a 
little back of the wood, on a field, the con- 
federate forces being directly in front. A 
body of his troops were just before him. 
and at this point the fire of the confeder- 
ates was directed. A niinie-ball struck 
him and went througli his body. He fell, 
and, from the first, appeared to have a 
knowledge that he could not survive the 
wound he had received. He was instantly 
carried, with the greatest care, to the rear, 
followed by a number of the < fticers, and 
attended I'V the division s\irgeiin. Doctor 
Cutter. At the foot of the hill he was laid 
under a tree; he died without the least 
movement, a few mil xites after. The 
grief of the officers at this calamity was 
heart-rending. The old soldier, just come 
from the scene of carnage, with death star- 
ing him in the face on every side, here 
knelt and wept like a child; indeed, no 
ej"e was dry among those present. Thus 
died one of the bravest generals that was 
in the service of his countrj', and the intel- 
ligence of his death was received by all 
with the greatest sorrow, as it was well 
known that but few could take the place 
of so able and brave an officer. The com- 
mand of the corps devolved ujion General 
Cox, who, from that time, directed the 
movements of the army. 

The fighting qualities of the southern 
soldiers, in this battle, may be judged of 
by the fact that the Fiftieth Georgia regi- 
ment lost nearly all their commissioned 
officers, and that at night, after the battle, 
only fifty-five men, of the whole regiment, 
remained fit for duty, — nor did they have 
anything to eat and drink for more than 
forty-eight hours. This regiment was 
posted in a narrow path, washed out into 
a regular gully, and was fired into by the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



805 



unionists from the front, the rear and left 
tiank. The men stood their ground un- 
waveringly, returning fire until nearly 
two-thirds of their number lay dead or 
wounded in that lane. Out of two hun- 
dred and ten carried into the fight, over 
one hundred and twenty-fivo wex'e killed 
and wounded in less than twenty minutes. 
Tlie slaughter was horrible. When or- 
dered to retreat, the living could sc'arcely 
extricate themselves from the dead and 
wounded lying around — a man could have 
walked from the head of the line to the 
foot on their bodies. The survivors of the 
regiment retreated very orderly back to 
where General Anderson's brigade rested. 
The brigade suffered terribly. James's 
South Carolina battalion was nearly anni- 
hilated. 

There were not wanting, also, incidents 
of that class which show the qualities of 
hulicrousness and cunning in human na- 
ture, as, for instance, the following : 

The New York One Hundred and Sev- 
enth regiment supported Cotheren's bat- 
tery; anil, during the hottest part of the 
fight, the confederates massed themselves 
opposite the union front, for an assault on 
Cotheren's position. The battery was 
short of ammunition, and so reserved their 
fire, while throughout the whole field there 
came a lull in the tumult. The confeder- 
ates advanced in a solid mass, with a pre- 
cision of movement perfectly beautiful. 
It was a moment which tried the nerves of 
the bravest. In the meantime, one of the 
lads, — a noted sporting character — becom- 
ing quite interested in the affair, had 
climbed a rock where he could view the 
whole scene. He occupied the place, un- 
mindful of the bullets which were buzzing 
like bees all around. The confederates 
came on until the unionists could see their 
faces, and then Cotheren poured the canis- 
ter into them. The advancing column 
was literally torn to pieces by the fire. 
At this, the lad on the rock became almost 
frantic in his demonstrations of delight, 
and as one of the battery sections sent a 
shrapnel which mowed down in an instant 
a long row of confederates, he swung his 



cap, and, in a voice that could be heard by 
the flying enemy, shouted out, " Bull-e-e- 
e-e ! Set 'em up on the other alley ! " 

General Sumner had a son, a captain on 
his staff, who was but twenty-one years of 
age. During the battle, when the bullets 
were whistling around the general's ears, 
he found it necessary to send the young 
man upon a mission of duty to a certain 
portion of the field. After giving him the 
requisite instructions, the general em- 
braced him and said, " Good-b^', Sammy." 
" Good-bj', father," was the response, and 
the captain rode forth upon his missioji. 
On his return from his perilous errand, the 
fond father grasped his hand, with the 
simple remark, " How d'ye do, Sammy ? " 
The spectators of this filial scene were 
much affected. 

A union soldier belonging to a New 
York regiment was wounded in the should- 
ers. After dark, missing his regiment, he 
became lost in the woods, and went in the 
direction of the enemy. Seeing a party of 
men ahead, he called out, "What regiment 
do j'ou belong to ? " They answered, 
" The Third South Carolina. What do you 
belong to ? " " The Tenth Virginia," was 
the ready and apt reply ; saying which, he 
moved off in the opposite direction, and 
soon joined some union soldiers. His wits 
saved him. 

The report of this battle by Mv. Smal- 
ler', in the New York Tribune, was pro- 
nounced by General Hooker, in a conver- 
sation with Mr. George Wilkes (himself an 
accomplished journalist), a perfect repro- 
duction of the scene and all its incidents. 
In reply to a question by Mr. Wilkes, if 
he knew who the Tribune reporter was, 
General Hooker said : " I saw him first 
upon the battle-field, when we were in the 
hottest portion of the fight, early in the 
morning. My attention was then attracted 
to a civilian, who sat upon his horse, in 
advance of my whole staff ; and though he 
was in the hottest of the fire, and the shut 
and shell were striking and sputtering 
around us like so much hail, he sat gazing 
on the strife as steady and undisturbed as 
if he were in a quiet theater, looking at a 



806 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



scene upon the stage. In all the. experi- 
ence which I have had of war, I never saw 
the most experienced and veteran soldier 
exhibit more tranquil fortitude and un- 
shaken valor than was exhibited by that 
j'oung man. I was concerned at the need- 
less risk which he invited, and told one of 
my aids to order him in our rear. Pres- 
ently, all my aids had left me, on one serv- 
ice and another; whereupon, turning to 
give an order, I found no one but this 
j'Oung stranger at mj' side. I then asked 
him if he would oblige me by bearing a 
dispatch to General MoClellan, and by 
acting us my aid, until some of my staff 
should come up. He rode off with alacrity, 



through a most exposed position, returned 
with the answer, and served me as 
an aid through the remainder of the 
fight, till I was carried from the ground." 
"His name, General?" asked Mr. Wilkes. 
"He was a young man, recently from 
college, named George AV. Smalley, 
and I am writing to him now." No 
one will regard General Ho<jkers opin- 
ion of Mr. Smalley as anj- too high. 
Similar, too, in descriptive ability and 
power, was the war correspondence of 
such men as Knox, Richardson, Conying- 
ham. Coffin, Browne, Taylor, Bickham, 
Crounse, Colburn, Davis, Reid, and some 
others. 



XCIY. 

PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, AS A WAR MEAS- 
URE, BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN.— 1863, 



More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important Amer- 
ican State Paper Since July 4th, 1776 — Pronounced, by the President, " the Great Event of the 
Nineteenth Century." — The Whole System of Slavery Finally Swept from the Republic, by Vic- 
tories in the Field and by Constitutional Amendments. — Mr. Lincoln's Views on Slavery. — Opposed 
to all Unconstitutional Acts. — His Orders to Union Generals. — Prohibits the Arming of Negroes. — 
Alarming Progress of Events. — The Great Exigency at Last — Slavery I'ersus the Union. — Solemn 
and Urgent Alternative — Emancipation Under the War Power. — Preparation of the Great Document. 
— Its Submission to the Cabinet. — Opinions and Discussions — Singular Reason for Delay. — Mr. Lin- 
coln's Vow to God. — Waiting for a Union Triumph — Decided by the Battle of Antietam. — Final 
Adoption of the Measure. — Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative. — Public Reception of the Procla- 
mation. — Promulgation at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchisement 
Added to Freedom. 



" And upon this act, sincerely believed to l>e an act of justice, warrnnted hv the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the con- 
Biderate judgment of minlund, and tlie gracious favor of Almighty God."— The Fboclauation. 



EALOUSLY cherishing the humane personal wish, " that all men every- 
where might be free," — as expressed by himself in one of his most mem- 
orable political letters, — and inflexibly objecting to the introduction of 
slavery into the new national territories. President Lincoln, nevertheless, 
on every occasion avowed his opposition to all unconstitutional meas- 
ures of interference with that sj'stem, as it existed in the States of the 
South. Only under the stupendous exigency precipitated upon him 
and upon the country, by the war inaugurated at Fort Sumter, and 
now carried on with such direful loss of blood and treasure for two long 
years, for the destruction of the Union, did he avail himself of the high 
and solemn prerogative of his position, as the sworn protector and 
defender of the nation, to decree, substantially, the utter extinction of 
slavery throughout all the borders of the land. 

It was a war measure, done " upon military necessity," and in the 
grave performance of which President Lincoln said: " I could not feel 
that, to the best of my ability, I had even tried to preserve the Constitu- 
tion, if, to preserve slavery, or any minor matter, I should permit the 
wreck of government, country, and constitution altogether. When, early 
in the war. General Fremont attemjited military emancipation, I forbade 
it, because I did not then think it an indispensable necessity. "When, a 
little later, General Cameron, then secretary of war, suggested the arm- 
ing of the blacks, I objected, because I did not yet think it an indispen- 
sable necessity. When, still later, General Hunter attempted military 



808 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



emancipation, I again forbade it, because 
I did not yet tliink the indisj>cns;ible 
necessity liad come. Wlieu, iu March and 
Jlay and July, 1862, I made earnest and 
successive appeals to the border states to 
favor compensated emancipation, I believed 
the indispensable necessity for military 
emancii)ation and arming the blacks would 
come, unless averted by that measure. 
They declined the proposition ; and I 
was, in my best judgment, driven to the 
alternative of either surrendering the 
Union, and with it the Constitution, or of 
laying strong hand upon the colored ele- 
ment. I chose the latter." It will thus 
be seen that, so far from being rash or 
aggressive in his anti-slavery policy, he 
favored no step in that direction, until 
driven to it as a last and remediless alter- 
native, from which there seemed no possi- 
ble escape. 




Singularly enough, this great measure 
— involving as iiiiglity a moral, social, and 
political revolution as was ever accom- 
plished in any age or in any country — was 
distinctly expounded and foreshadowed liy 
John Quincy Adams, in a remarkable 
debate which took place in the lower house 
of congress, in 1842, and in the course of 
which he said: "I believe that, so long as 
the slave states are able to sustain their 
institutions, without going abroad or call- 
ing upon other parts of the Union to aid 
them or act on the subject, so long I will 
consent never to interfere. I have said 



this; and I repeat it ; but, if they come to 
the free states and say to them, ' You must 
help us to keep down our slaves, you must 
aid us in an insurrection and a civil war,' 
then I say that, with that call, comes a full 
and plenary power to this house, and to the 
senate, over the whole subject. It is a 
war power; I say it is a war power ; and 
when your country is actually in war, 
whether it be a war of invasion or a war 
of insurrection, congress has power to carry 
on the war, and must carry it on according 
to the laws of war ; and, by the laws of war, 
an invaded countrv has all its laws and 
municipal institutions swept by the board, 
and martial law takes the place of them. 
This power in congress has, perhaps, never 
been called into exercise under the present 
constitution of the United States. But, 
when the laws of war are in force, what, 
I ask, is one of those laws? It is this: 
that when a country is invaded, and two 
hostile armies are set in martial array, the 
comniandi'rs of both armies have power to 
eniancijiate all the slaves in the invaded 
territory." In proof of the correctness of 
his assertion, Mr. Adams cited the well- 
known historical case of the abolition of 
slavery in C<ilombia, lirst by JIurillo, the 
Spanish general, and subsequently by 
Bolivar, the American general, iu each case 
as a militar}' act, and observed and main- 
tained to this day. 

Though the great American rroclama- 
tion of Emancipation did not appear until 
January 1, ISOS, I'resident Lincoln's mind 
had for some months previously been drift- 
ing in the direction of some .•^uch act. As 
he himself expressed it, everything was 
going wrong — the nation seemed to have 
put forth about its utmost efforts, and he 
really ilidn't know what more to do, unless 
he did this. Accordingly, he prepared a jirc- 
liminary proclamation, nearly in the form 
in which it std)sequontly appeared, called 
the cabinet together, anil read it to them, 
with the following result, as reported: 

Jlr. Montgomery Blair was startled. 
" If you issue that proclamation, Mr. Pres- 
ident," he exclaimed, "you will lose every 
one of the fall elections." 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



809 



Mr. Seward, on the other hand, said, "I 
ajiprove of it, Mr. President, just as it 
stands. I approve of it in princijjle, and 
I approve the policy of issuing it. I only 
object to the time. Send it out now, on 
the heels of our late disasters, and it will 
be construed as the convulsive struggle of 
a drowning man. To give it proper weiglit, 
you should reserve it until after some vic- 
tory." The president assented to Mr. 
Seward's view, and held the document in 
reserve. It appeared to the president, 
that Mr. Seward's opinion was of great 
wisdom and force. 

Perhaps no account of this most memo- 
rable event can be said to equal, in relia- 
bility and graphic interest, that which is 
furnished by Mr. F. B. Carpenter, in his 
reminiscences of " Six Months at the 
White House," while employed tliere in 




.\>vTVv^ 



executing that unrivaled masterpiece of 
American historical painting — the Procla- 
mation of Emancipation — which, by uni- 
versal consent, has placed Mr. Carpenter's 
name second to none on the roll of eminent 
modern artists. Enjoying, too, as he did, 
the most intimate personal relations with 
the author of that proclamation, the infor- 
mation which he thus obtained from the 
l)resident's own lips, as to its origin, dis- 
cussion, and final adoption, must forever 
be the source from which, on this subject, 
all historians must draw. 

As already stated, the opinion of the 



secretary of state in regard to the effect of 
issuing such a proclamation at such a time, 
impressed Mr. Lincoln very strongly. " It 
was an aspect of the case that" — said 
President Lincoln to Mr. Carpenter, — " in 
all my thought upon the subject, I had 
entirely overlooked. The result was that 
I put the draft of the proclamation aside, 
as 3'ou do j'our sketch for a j)icture, wait- 
ing for a victory. From time to time I 
added or changed a line, touching it up 
here and there, anxiciusly watching the 
progress of events. Well, the next news 
we had was of Pope's disaster at Bull Run. 
Things looked darker than ever. Finallj', 
came the week of the battle of Antietam. 
I determined to wait no longer. The news 
came, I think, on Wednesdaj', that the 
advantage was on our side. I was then 
staying at the Soldiers' Home (three 
miles out of Washington). Here I fin- 
ished writing the second draft of the pre- 
liminary proclamation ; came up on Sat- 
urday ; called the cabinet together to hear 
it, and it was published the following 
Monda^y." At the final meeting of Sep- 
tember 20th, another incident occurred in 
connection with Secretary Seward. The 
president had written the important part 
of the proclamation in these words : — 

" That, on the first day of January, in 
the year of our Lord one thousand eight 
hundred and sixty-three, all persons held 
as slaves within anj' State or designated 
part of a State, the people whereof shall 
then be in rebellion against the United 
States, shall be then, thenceforward, and 
forever Fuee; and the Executive Govern- 
ment of the United States, including the 
military ;ind naval authoritj' thereof, will 
rcrof/iiizK the freedom of such persons, and 
will do no act or acts to repress such jjcr- 
sons, or any of them, in any efforts they 
may make for their actual freedom." 

" When I finished reading this para- 
graph," resumed Mr. Lincoln, "Mr. Seward 
stopped me, and said, ' I think, Mr. Presi- 
dent, that you should insert after the word 
" recognize," in that sentence, the words 
" and maintain." ' I replied that I had 
already considered the import of that ex- 



810 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187C. 



pression in this connection, I'ut I had not 
introduced it, because it was not mj' way 
to promise what I was not entirely sure 
that I could perform, and I was not pre- 
pared to say that I thought we were 
exactly able to 'maintain' this. But 
Seward insisted that we ought to take this 
ground, and the words finally went in. It 
is a somewhat remarkable fact," he subse- 
quently a<lded, '• that there were just one 
hundred days between the dates of the two 
proclamations issued u[)on the 22d of Sep- 
tember and the 1st of January." 



bany, N. Y., in 1864 ; it is in the proper 
handwriting of Mr. Lincoln, excepting two 
interlineations in pencil, by Secretary 
Seward, and the formal heading and end- 
ing, which were written b)- the chief clerk 
of the state department. The final proc- 
lamation was signed on Xew Year's Day, 
1863. The jiresident remarked to Mr. 
Colfax, the same evening, that the signa- 
ture ajipeared somewhat tremulous and 
uneven. "Not," said he, "because of any 
uncertainty or hesitation on my part ; but 
it was just after the public reception, and 




The original draft of the proclamation 
was written upon one side of four half- 
sheets or ofliiial foolscap. " He flung down 
upon the table one day for me," continues 
Mr. Carpenter, " several sheets of the same, 
saying, ' There, I believe, is some of the 
very paper wliicli was used — if not, it was, 
at any rate just like it.' " The original draft 
is dated September 22, 1862, and was pre- 
sented to tlie Army Relief Bazaar, at Al- 



three hours' hand-shaking is not calculated 
to improve a man's chirography." Then 
changing his tone, he added : " The south 
had fair warning, that if they did not 
return to their duty, I should strike at 
this pillar of their strength. The promise 
must now be kept, and I shall never recall 
one word." 

In answer to a question from Mr. Car- 
penter, as to whether the policy of eman- 



i 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



811 



cipation was not opposed by some mem- 
bers of the cabinet, the president replied : 
"Nothing more tlian I have stated to you. 
Mr. Bhiir thought we should lose the fall 
elections, and opposed it on that ground 
only." " I have understood," said Mr. 
Carpenter, " that Secretiiry Smith was not 
in favor of your action. Mr. Blair told me 
that, when the meeting closed, he and the 
secretary of the interior went away to- 
gether, and that the latter said to him, 
that if the president carried out that pol- 
icy, he might count on losing Indiana, 
sure ! " " He never said anything of the 
kind to me," responded the president. 
" And what is Mr. Blair's opinion now ? " 
I asked. " Oh," was the prompt reply, 
"he proved right in regard to the fall elec- 
tions, but he is satisfied that we have since 
gained more than we lost." " I have been 
told," I added, " that Judge Bates doubted 
the constitutionality of the proclamation." 
" He never expressed such an opinion in 
my hearing," replied Mr. Lincoln; "no 
member of the cabinet ever dissented from 
the policy, in conversation with me." 

It is well known that the statement 
foun 1 very general currency and credence, 
that, on the proclamation having been 
read to the cabinet. Secretary Chase ob- 
jected to the appearance of a document of 
such momentous character without one 
word beyond the dry phrases necessary to 
convey its meaning, and finally proposed 
that there should be added to the presi- 
dent's draft, the sentence — 'And upon this 
act, sincerely believed to be an act of jus- 
tice, warranted by the constitution, I 
invoke the considerate judgment of man- 
kind, and the gracious favor of Almighty 
God.' The facts of the case, however, as 
learned by Mr. Carpenter were these : 
While the measure was pending, Mr. Chase 
submitted to the president a draft of a 
proclamation embodying his views of the 
subject, and which closed with the solemn 
and appropriate words referred to. Mr. 
Lincoln adopted the sentence intact, as 
Mr. Chase wrote it, excepting that he 
inserteid after the word ' constitution,' the 
words ' upon military necessity ; ' and in 



tliat form the document went to the world, 
and to history. 

Mr. Carpenter also makes an interesting 
statement touching the religious aspect of 
Mr. Lincoln's mind, concerning this mo- 
mentous matter, as follows : Mr. Chase 
told me that at the cabinet meeting, imme- 
diately after the battle of Antietam, and 
just prior to the September proclamation, 
the president entered upon the business 
before them, by saying that "the time 
for the annunciation of the emancipation 
policy could be no longer delayed. Public 
sentiment," he thought, "would sustain it 
— many of his warmest friends and sup- 
porters demanded it — and he had prom- 
ised h is God that he would do it ! " 
The last part of this was uttered in a low 
tone, and appeared to be heard by no one 
but Secretary Chase, who vi'as sitting near 
him. He asked the president if he had 
correctly understood him. Mr. Lincoln 
replied : " I made a solemn vow before 
God, that if General Lee was driven back 
from Pennsylvania, I would crown the 
result by the declaration of freedom to tlie 
slaves." In rebruar3', 1865, a few days 
after the passage of the Constitutional 
Amendment, Mr. Carpenter went to Wash- 
ington, and was received by Mr. Lincoln 
with the kindness and familiarity which 
had characterized their previous inter- 
course. I said to him at this time, (says 
Mr. Carpenter,) that I was very proud to 
have been the artist to have first conceived 
the design of painting a picture commem- 
orative of the Act of Emancipation ; that 
subsequent occurrences had only confirmed 
my own first judgment of that act as the 
most sublime moral event in our history. 
" Yes," said he, — and never do I remem- 
ber to have noticed in him more earnest- 
ness of expression or manner, — "as affairs 
have turned, it is the central act of my 
administration, and the great event of the 
nineteenth centuryr 

The scope of this most important state 
paper ever issued since the Declaration of 
Independence, was, to give liberty to more 
than three millions of people, — a number 
equ.il to the whole population of the 



812 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



^ 







GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



813 



United States when the revolutionary 
struggle with Great Britain commenced, 
and about four-fif:hs of the whole slave 
population. Tiie work of emancipation 
throughout all the borders of the land was 
comjileted by victories in the field, and the 
adoption of the Constitutional Amendment, 
Article XIII., by which slavery was for- 
ever and entirely swept from the Republic. 

The reception of the proclamation by 
the millions who were ranged on the side 
of their country, praying and fighting for 
the success of the union cause, was warm 
and enthusiastic, the feeling being almost 
univer.sally prevalent that the nation had 
entered upon a new and auspicious era, 
and that, under such a banner, heaven 
would crown our armies with victorj-, and 
give perpetuity to our republic among the 
governments of the earth. Generallj', the 
great document was the theme of earnest 
and eloquent discourses from the northern 
pulpits, the current of the preachers' 
thoughts showing itself in the various sub- 
jects or titles under which the event was 
discussed, such as ' The Conflict between 
Despotism and Libert}-,' ' The duty of 
uniting with our whole energies in execut- 
ing the Emancipation Edict of the presi- 
dent, to accomplish, by the blessing of 
God, its beneficent results, without possi- 
bilitj' of failure,' ' The Jubilee of Free- 
dom,' 'The Influence of Christianity on 
the Abolition of Slaverj-,' — these, though 
but a few among thousands elicited by the 
proclamation, indicate the hearty appreci- 
ation of President Lincoln's course in issu- 
ing the decree. From countless pulpits, 
too, the momentous document was simply 
read, without comment. 

Great public meetings of congratulation 
and rejoicing were held in almost every 
large town and city in the various north- 
ern, states. At the Cooper Institute, New 
York, a grand jubilee came off, the colored 
people of that city and of the surrounding 
towns for many miles, gathering together 
to do honor to so great a boon to their 
race. The large hall was completely 
packed, long before the hour at which the 
proceedings were appointed to take place. 



and multitudes had to be turned away 
from the feast of eloquence and music 
which was there enjoj^ed for several hours. 

Two days after the issue of the procla- 
mation, a large body of people assembled 
before the White House, in Washington, 
with a band of music, and called for the 
president. Ho appeared, and made an 
address of thanks to them for their cour- 
tesy, in which, alluding to the proclama- 
tion, he said, " What I did, I did after a 
very full deliberation, and under a heavy 
and solemn sense of responsibilitj'. I can 
only trust in God I have made no mis- 
take." From the colored people of Balti- 
more, Mr. Lincoln was the recipient of a 
superb copy of the Bible, of the largest 
size, and bound in violet-colored velvet. 
The corners were bands of solid gold, and 
the event carved upon a plate also of gold, 
not less than one-fourth of an inch thick. 
Upon the left-hand cover, was a design 
representing the president in a cotton- 
field, knocking the shackles off the wrists 
of a slave, who held one hand aloft as if in- 
voking blessings upon the head of his ben- 
efactor, — at whose feet was a scroll upon 
which was written " Emancipation ; " upon 
the other cover was a similar plate, bear- 
ing the inscription : " To Abraham Lin- 
coln, President of the United States, the 
friend of Universal Freedom. From the 
loyal colored people of Baltimore, as a 
token of respect and gratitude. Baltimore, 
July 4, 1864." 

But the greatest interest necessarily 
attaches to the reception which such an 
amazing document met with on the jiart 
of those who were or had recently been 
slaves. Although by the terms of the 
proclamation, the cities of Norfolk and 
Portsmouth, Va., were excluded from its 
operation, the slaves fully believed that 
' jSIassa Lincoln ' had emancipated them all ; 
with this view, they refused to work with- 
out wages, and, their former masters ac- 
ceding to this, virtual emancipation was 
the result in that region. On New Year's 
day, the slaves of Norfolk. Portsmouth, 
and Gosport, with the African strangers 
gathered there, to the number of some 



814 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



thousanJs, turned out en masse, and by 
proofs.sions, speeches, liynins and songs of 
jubilation, and by other demonstrations, 
celebrated what was ever afterward to be 
their Fourtli of July. The exultation of 
the slaves was great, and many a notice- 
able incident presented itself. "Massa," 
said an oM woman to a stranger near by, 
" I have had twenty children. My Massa 
and Missus sole 'em all off ; one of my 
gals was sole to buy j'oung Missus her 
piano. I used to stop my ears when I 
heard her play on dat ar ; I thought I 
heard my chile a crying out dat it was 
bought wid her blood. Dey was all sole 
off, — I'se not got one left to bury me. 
But I'se free/ and my ole heart is glad 
agin. I'll go happy to my grave." In 
one of the colored cliurches in Norfolk, the 
preacher took for his text, " Stand fast, 
therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ 
has made you free," and with great inge- 
nuity, and without irreverence, the 
preacher showed how President Lincoln, 
in emancii)ating them, had stood in Christ's 
stead to tlieni. and how it was now their 
duty to stand fast, and fight for the liberty 
which he, under God, had given them. 
Singular enough, there ro.so from the 
whole congregation a cry, as if with one 
voice, "Amen ! glory be to God ! we'll 
light till de cows' tails drop off! " 

Jn the Dejiartmcnt of the South, em- 
bracing Port Royal, S. C, and other 
islands, it was very difficult to convince 
the colored [x'oph- that they were free, and 
that the government, or Yankees, could be 
in earnest. Christmas wjvs to most of 
them a sad day. General Saxton, there- 
fore, who spared no effort to disabuse 
their minis ami inspire them with confi- 
dence, issued his proclamation inviting the 
people to assemble at the hca(l-<piarters of 
the First South Carolina Volunteers, on 
the first of January. Missionaries, min- 
isters, sui>erintendents and teachers, offi- 
cers and privates, joined heartily in the 
gathering. The word went out far and 
near, but the people were suspicious. 
Mischievous ones had told them it was a 
trap to force them into the army ; others 



that they were to be collected on steam- 
boats that would run them to Cuba; oth- 
ers that they were to be got away from 
their homes and sent into exile. But, at 
an early hour of the sublimely beautiful 
day, the people began to arrive at the 
camping-ground, and, despite their fears, 
thousands were there. The proceedings 
opened with prayer and music, after which, 
Judge Brisbane, of 'Wisconsin, but a son 
of South Carolina who, twenty-five years 
previously, set all his slaves free, read the 
emancipation act amidst the jubilant 
shouts of the vast multitude ; and when, 
succeeding this, the proclamation of (ien- 
eral Saxton was read, declaring that the 
great act should be enforced, twelve deaf- 
eniiig cheers burst forth from the thou- 
sands of grateful and joyous hearts to 
whom the good tidings of liberty and jiro- 
tection had thus come. An original ode 
was then sung to the tune of ' Scots wha' 
ha' wi' Wallace bled," and then came the 
crowning feature of the day, the presenta- 
tion by the Rev. Mr. French of a .'Splendid 
silk (lag, with the enibroidcred ins(rij)tion: 

" To the First South Carolina Regiment. 
The 3'ear of jubilee has come." 

It was a very elegant flag, a gift from 
Doctor Cheever's church in the city of 
New York. As it passed from the hands 
of Mr. French, the negroes struck up the 
national air, " My country, 'tis of thee," 
with fine effect. Colonel Higginson, who 
had received the flag, stood waiting his 
time to rej>ly, with the golden tassels in 
his hands. After an eloquent speech by 
the colonel, he called the sergeant of Com- 
pany A, "Prince Rivers," and a corporal 
of another comiiany, named Sutton, both 
black men, and, handing over the flag 
which had been presented, called upon 
both to speak, which they did with great 
acceptance. Other exercises of rejoicing 
took place, and then attention was paid to 
the physical wants of the happy throng. 
For this purpose, ten beeves had been 
slaughtered and were roasting in their 
pits; and these, with several hundred gal- 
lons of molasses and water, — a favorite 
beverage of the negroes, — and a full supply 



11 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE E^^ENTS. 



815 



of hard bread, awaited the hungry expect- 
ants. Thus ended tlie grand celebration 
of the emancipation of the slaves of South 
Carolina. 

The observance of the event in other 
part.s of tlie .south, wherever the authority 
of the union forces was present to permit 
it, was so similar in its character and 
enthusiasm to what has already been nar- 
rated, that it is unnecessary here to extend 
the descriptions. By the army and its 
officers, with liere and there an exception, 
the proclamation was regarded as an act to 
which things had long been tending, and 
which, under the circumstances of peril in 
which the union had so long been placed, 
was inevitable. Of course, no such proc- 
lamation, in time of war, could have any 
weiglit in the section of country at which 
it was aimed, excepting as the union mili- 
tary successes made it effective. Those 
successes in due time reached every por- 
tion of the south, and the fetters of every 
bondman on American soil were thus 
broken. Congress subsequently passed an 
amendment to the constitution, forever 
prohibiting slavery in any portion of the 
republic, and this amendment, on being 
ratified by the requisite number of states, 
became a part of the organic law of the 
land. 

The original draft of the emancipation 
proclamation, in the president's handwrit- 
ing, was presented by Mr. Lincoln to the 
great Northwestern Sanitary Fair, held at 
Cliicago, in the autumn of 18C3. The fol- 
lowing letter accompanied the gift: 

ExEcuTi-v-E Mansion, 
Washington, October 26, 1863. 

To the Ladies having in charge the 
Northwestern Fair for the Sanitary Com- 
mission, Chicago, Illinois: — 

According to the request made in your 
behalf, the original draft of the emancipa- 
tion proclamation is herewith enclosed. 
The formal words at the top, and the con- 
clusion, except the signature, you perceive, 
are not in my handwriting. They were 
written at the State Department, by whom 
I know not. The printed part was cut 



from a copy of the preliminarj' proclama- 
tion and pasted on, merely to save writing. 
I had some desire to retain the paper; 
but if it shall contribute to the relief or 
comfort of the soldier, that will be better. 
Your obedient servant, 

A. Lincoln. 

This chief treasure of that great fair was 
purchased for three thousand dollars, by 
the Hon. Thomas B. Bryan, for the Chi- 
cago Soldiers' Home, of which he was 
president. Lithographic copies of the doc- 
ument were also sold for the benefit of the 
same institution, and netted it thousands 
of dollars. 

One of the most important results of this 
great mea.sure, whether considered from a 
moral, political, or social point of view, 
was the Fifteenth Amendment to the Con- 
stitution of the United States, by which 
all citizens were made equal before the 
law. 

It was on the twenty-seventh of Febru- 
ary, 1S69, that congress passed a resolu- 
tion in the following words: 

A resolution proposing an amendment 
to the Constitution of the United States. 

Resolved, By the Senate and House of 
Representatives of the L'nited States of 
America, in Congress assembled, two- 
thirds of both Houses concurring, that the 
following article be proposed to the legis- 
latures of the several States as an amend- 
ment to the Constitution of the United 
States, which, when ratified by three- 
fourths of the said legislatures, shall be 
valid as a part of the Constitution, namely: 
— Article 15, Section 1. The right of 
citizens of the United States to vote shall 
not be denied or abridged by the United 
States, or by any State, on account of race, 
color, or previous condition of servitude. 
Section 2. Congress shall have power to 
enforce this article by approjiriato legisla- 
tion. 

In about one year's time from the pas- 
sage of this resolution, proclamation was 
made by the secretary of state. Hon. Ham- 
ilton Fish, that the proposed amendment 
had been ratified by the legislatures of the 



816 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



states of North Carolinji, West Virginia, 
Mas.^acliiist'tts, Wisconsin, Elaine, Louisi- 
ana, Michigan, South Carolina, Pennsyl- 
vania, Arkansas, Connecticut, Florida, 
Illinois, Indiana, New York, New Hanij)- 
shire, Nevada, Vermont, Virginia, AI:v- 
bania, Missouri, Mississippi, Ohio, Iowa, 
Kansas, Minnesota, Rhode Island, Ne- 
braska, and Texas, — twenty-nine in all, 
and constituting three-fourths of the whole 
number of states, and thus becoming valid, 
to all intents and j>urposes, as a part of 
the constitution of the United States. 

Though not obligatory, as an executive 
duty, President Grant communicated the 
fact of the ratification to congress, in a 
special message, on the thirtieth of March, 
1870. " The measure " — said the presi- 
dent — " which makes at once four millions 
of the people voters who were heretofore 
declared by the highest tribunal in the 
land not citizens of the United States, nor 
eligible to become so, with the assertion 
that at the time of the Declaration of In- 



dependence the opinion was fixed and uni- 
versal in the civilized portion of the white 
race, and regarded as an axiom in morals 
as well as in politics, that bhuk men liad 
no rights which white men were bound to 
respect, is, indeed, a measure of grander 
importance than any other one act of the 
kind from the foundation of our free gov- 
ernment to the present time. Institutions 
like ours, in which all power is derived 
directly from the people, must depend 
mainly npon their intelligence, i)atriolism, 
and industry. I call the attention, there- 
fore, of the newly enfranchised race to the 
importance of their striving, in every hon- 
orable manner, to make themselves worthy 
of their new privilege. To a race more 
favored heretofore by our laws, I would 
say, withhold no legal i)rivilcge of advance- 
ment to the new citizens." So great an 
event was not suffered to pass without pub- 
lic demonstrations of joy commensurate 
with its grand, beneficent, and elevating 
scope, in almost all parts of the country. 



XCT. 

CAMPAIGN AGAINST VICKSBURG, " THE GIBRALTAR OF 
THE MISSISSIPPI," BY THE UNION FORCES.— 1863. 



The Genius, Valor, and Resources of Both Armies Tasked to their Utmost. — Final Capitulation of the 
City by General Peraberton, After a Prolonged and Brilliant Siege. — Heaviest Blow Yet Dealt the 
Secession Cause. — General McPherson Receives the Formal Surrender. — Thirty-seven Thousand 
Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for Sixty Thousand Men, the Trophies. — Geograph- 
ical Importance of Vicksburg — Its Commanding Fortifications. — Farragut's Naval Siege Powerless. 
— Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command — Vigorous Operations Undertaken. 
— His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm Vicksburg. — Hours of Terrific Can- 
nonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough Investment at .ill Points. — Federal Sapping and 
Wining. — They Mine and Blow up Fort Hill — Awful Spectacle of Blood and Ruin. — Deadly Strug- 
gle for a Foothold — Success of the Forty-fifth Illinois — Their Colore Surmount the Work. — Pember- 
ton Sends a Flag of Truce. — His Interview with Grant. — Grant's Terms : " Unconditional Surrender." 
— The Victors Enter the City, July 4th. — Curious Reminiscences. 



•*Nothou::htof flight. 
None of retreat, no iiiibecoinine tleed 
Ttiat argued fear; each one himself relied 
As only in Hts arm the moment lay 
or Victory ! " 




OPERATIONS AT VICKSBDRG. 



OUAVES, infantry, cavalry, artillery — offi- 
cers and privates — picket, scout, and spy, — 
brave legions, led on by brave generals of 
heroic purpose to noblest deeds, — won glo- 
rious honor to American arms, and to the 
still more sacred cause of the American Union, 
1)V the capture of the city of Vicksburg, the 
■-tionghold of Mississippi, with all its defenses 
ind munitions, and its valorous army ; — an event 
which, occurring on the fourth of July, filled the 
h( arts of all loyal Americans with peculiar joy, 
\\hile it was confessedly the heaviest and most 
di-astrous military blow which the confederate 
( ause had yet received during the two long years 
of most eventful struggle. 

Situated on the Mississippi river, on a com- 
manding elevation, four hundred miles above New 
Orleans, and fifty miles west of Jackson, it was the most 
important point on the river between Natchez and Memphis, 
and, at an early day, was strongly fortified by the confeder- 
ate authorities of the state, forts being erected and abundance 
of artillery supplied. More than a year before the final 



818 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



capitulation of the place under General 
Pemberton to General Grant, the union 
forces Uiid siege to the city, and Farragut 
demanded the surrender of the forts ; tlie 
silencing of the confederate batteries at 
Grand Gulf, was among the earlier opera- 
tions of the union gun-boats, which also 
shelled the city for several weeks. Farra- 
gut raised the naval siege, Jul}' 24, 1862. 
General Grant had taken command of the 
union army in that quarter in June, of the 
same year, and, in December, organized 
his army into four grand corps, — the Thir- 
teenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seven- 
teenth, commanded respectively by Gen- 
erals McClernand, Sherman, Hurlbut, and 
!^rePherson. At the close of this month, 
Sherman started from Memjihis, passed 
down the Mississippi to the mouth of the 
Yazoo, some ten miles above Vicksburg, 
and ascending that river, advanced upon 
Vicksburg on the north side, but, after 
three days of severe fighting, was com- 
pelled to retire witli heavy loss. For a 
time, the attack on the city was abandoned 
as futile. 

Early in February, 1863, General Grant 
arrived and assumed active personal com- 
mand of military operations, which he con- 
ducted with great tact and vigor, succes- 
sively defeating his opponents in engage- 
ments at Port Gibson, Fourteen Mile 
Creek, Raymond, Jackson, Champion's 
Hill, and Big Ulack Bridge. The naval 
forces cf)-operating in these movements 
were under the efficient direction of Ad- 
mirals Farragut and Porter. 

After thoroughly investing the citj' on 
all sides, the union troops forming a semi- 
circle, with both flanks resting on the 
river, an unsuccessful assault was made, 
May 23d, by the combined land and naval 
forces. The attack was a terrible one. 
According to the correspondent of the Chi- 
cago Tribune, it was characterized by the 
following incidents: During the night, 
the gun-boats and mortars lying in front of 
the city kept up a continual fire, and 
dropped their fiery messengers right and 
left without distinction. During this bom- 
bardment several buildings were set on 



fire by the exploding shells, and lighted 
up the darkness, revealing strange shapes 
and wonderful outlines, standing out in 
relief against the dark sky, which added 
wonderful interest to the bombardment as 
witnessed by the distant observer. It is 
imjiossible to estimate the damage occar 
sioned bj' thus drojiping into Vicksburg 
those heav}- eleven and thirteen inch shells. 
Imagination falls far short of its reality. 
Before the union forces ajjproached the 
city, General Pemberton ordered all the 
women and children for miles around 
Vicksburg to go within the intrencliments, 
assuring them that in that way they would 
escape all danger. The consequence was, 
that there were a large number of non- 
combatants in the city, exposed to all the 
dangers of siege and bombardment. At 
eight o'clock in the morning the cannon- 
ading began, and continued, with scarcely 
a moment's intermission, along the entire 
line, until ten o'clock. From every hill- 
top in front of the confederate works, 
cannon were belching fortli, and the fiery 
tempest raged fearfully. Guns were dis- 
mounted, embrasures torn up, parapets 
destroyed, and caissons exploded. It was 
a fearful demonstration. For two long 
hours did this cannonade continue, when 
a general charge was made. ^Vinding 
through the vallej's, clambering over the 
hills -everywhere, subjected to a murder- 
ous enfilading and cross-fire, the advance 
pressed U]) close to the confederate works 
— to find that a deep ditch, protected by 
sharp stakes along the outer edge, lay 
between them and the intrencliments. 
They jilanted their flag directly before the 
fort, and crouched down behind the em- 
bankment, out of range of the confederate 
fire, as calmly as possible, to await devel- 
opments. The soldiers within the forts 
could not rise above the parapet to fire at 
them, for if they did, a hundred bullets 
went whizzing through the air, and the 
adventurers died. The confederates, how- 
ever, adopted another i)lan ; taking a shell, 
they cut the fuse close off, lighted it, and 
rolled it over the outer slope of the em- 
b.ankment. Subsequently, with picks and 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



819 



sliovels, a way was dug into one fort, and 
through the breacli the boys walked 
bravely in. The first fort on the left of 
the railroad was stormed by a portion of 
General Carr's division, and gallantly 
taken; the colonel that led the charge was 
wounded. On the center the fire was per- 
sistent and terrible. Many brave officers 
were killed and many more wounded. 
Colonel Dollins, of the Eighty-first Illinois, 
fell dead while leading his men to the 
charge. Later in the afternoon. General 
Ransom's brigade charged the works oppo- 
site his position, with heavy loss. Steele 
and Tuttle, on the right, were also vigor- 
ously engaged, the loss sustained by the 
former being considerable. 




GENERAL J. C. PEilBEKTOi'. 

The result of this assault rendered it 
quite certain that Vicksburg could not be 
taken by storm, and every possible appli- 
ance was immediately put into requisition 
by General Grant to accomplish his pur- 
pose by systematic siege, and sappers and 
miners performed an important part in 
this great undertaking. The details of 
tliis kind of work are well understood by 
all, and need not be repeated here. Suf- 
fice it to sa}-, that one of the principal con- 
federate forts was soon reached by this 
subterraneJin process, — the miners keeping 
incessantly busy, day and night, until they 
arrived far under the confederate fortifica- 
tions, and within such near proximity to 
the enemy, that the picks and shovels of 
the latter, similarly engaged in the bowels 
of the earth, could frequently be heard, — 



necessitating, above all things, incessant 
wariness and the utmost possible expedi- 
tion. How the matter was carried through, 
the following account, made up from the 
admirable dispatches of Messrs. Keim and 
Fitzpatrick, of the New York Herald, will 
abundantly show: 

On the morning of June 25tli, the work 
of mining (says Mr. Eitzpatrick,) was com- 
pleted, an immense quantity of gunpowder 
was stored in the cavity prepared to re- 
ceive it, and the fuse train was laid. At 
noon, the different regiments of the Sev- 
enteenth corps, selected to make the assault 
on the breach when it should have been 
effected, were marshaled in long lines 
upon the near slopes of the liills immedi- 
atelj' confronting the doomed fortifications, 
where, disposed for the attack, impatiently 
awaited the event. The confederates 
seemed to have discovered that some move- 
ment was on foot, for, from the moment 
the federal troops came into position, until 
the explosion took place, their sharpshoot- 
ers kept up an incessant fire from the 
whole line of their works. 

At length all was in readiness ; the fuse 
train was fired, and it went fizzing and 
popping through the zigzag line of 
trenches, until for a moment it vanished. 
Its disappearance was quickly succeeded 
by the explosion, and the mine under Fort 
Hill was sprung. So terrible a spectacle 
is seldom witnessed. Dust, dirt, smoke, 
gabions, stockades, timber, gun-carriages, 
logs — in fact, everj'thing connected with 
the fort — rose hundreds of feet into the 
air, as if vomited forth from a volcano. It 
is described by all who saw it as an awful 
scene. 

No sooner had the explosion taken place 
(writes Mr. Keim), than the two detach- 
ments acting as the forlorn hope ran into 
the fort and sap. A brisk musketry fire 
at once commenced between the two par- 
ties, with about equal effect on either side. 
No sooner had these detachments become 
well engaged than the rest of Leggctt's 
brigade joined them and entered into the 
struggle. The regiments relieving each 
other at intervals, the contest now grew 



820 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 











^sitrjte. 



sercre, both sides, ilftcrniined ujion liuldiiig 
their own, were doing their best. Volley 
after volle3- was fired, tlioiigh with less ear- 
nage tliiiii would l>e sujiposi'il. The Fort}-- 
fifth Illinois now charged immediately 
iqi to the crest of the parapet, and here 
suffered its heaviest, losing many officers 
in the assault. After a severe contest of 
half an hour, with varying results, the 
j1(ig of the t'ortij-jifth apjuovtil iijwii the 
summit of the work/ The position was 
gained. Cheer after cheer broke through 
the confusion and uproar of the contest, 
assuring the troops everj-where along the 
line that the Forty-fifth was still itself. 
The colonel was now left alone in command 
of the regiment, and he was himself badly 
bruised by a flying splinter. The regi- 
ment had also suffered severely in the line, 
and the troops were worn out by excessive 
heat and hard fighting. Ilelicf was nec- 
essarj-. Accordingly, another Illinois reg- 
iment was ordered up, and the Forty-fifth 
drawn off; this was at si.x o'clock r. m. 
After thi.s, the action was kept up briskly 
but steadily for several hours, until dusk, 
when the firing lulled and tlio men took a 
respite. While the Forty-fifth was so 
hotly engaged in the fort, the Twenty-third 
Indiana followed its first detachment into 
the saj), from which place they were to 
hold the confederates at bay during the 
contest for the fort. The confederates 
fought desju'rately, as well at this point as 
tlio other ; but the character of the engage- 
ment was different, tho troops firing at 
each other over breastworks of earth. 
This regiment did excellent service. 

T/i e explosion of the vi ine was the signal 
for tho openinij of the artillery of ti.e 
entire line. The left division of General 
^fcPherson's Seventeenth or center corji.H 
opened first, and discharges were repeateil 
along the left, through General Ord'-s 
Thirteenth corps and Herron's extreme 
left division, until the sound struck the 
ear like tho mutterings of distant thunder. 
General Sherman, on the right, also opened 
Ills artillery about the same time and o<'cu- 
I>ieil the enemy's attention along his front. 
Every shell struck the parapet, and, boinid- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



821 



ing over, exploded in tlie midst of the 
opposing forces bej'ond. The scene at this 
time was one of the utmost sublimity. 
The roar of artillery, rattle of small 
arms, the cheers of the men, flashes of 
light, wreaths of pale hlue smoke over dit- 
feieiit parts of the field, the bursting of 
shells, the fierce whistle of solid shot, the 
deep boom of the mortars, the broadsides 
of the ships of war, and, added to all this, 
the vigorous replies of the confederates, 
set up a din which beggared all powers of 
description. 

After the possession of the confederate 
fort was no longer in doubt, the pioneer 
federal corps mounted the work with their 
shovels and set to throwing up earth vig- 
orously, in order to secure space for artil- 
lery. A most fortunate peculiarity — for 
the union army — in the explosion, was the 
manner in which the earth was thrown 
out. The appearance of the place was 
that of a funnel, with heavy sides running 
up to the very crest of the parapet, afford- 
ing admirable protection not only for the 
union troops and pioneers, but turned out 
a ready made fortification in the rough, 
which, with a slight application of the 
shovel and pick, was ready to receive the 
guns to be used at this point. 

The capture of Vicksburg was now a 
foregone conclusion, admitted even by its 
devoted defenders themselves, as appeared 
from the contents of a confederate mail- 
bag, captured just at this time. At about 
eight o'clock, therefore, on the morning of 
July 3d, flags of truce appeared before 
General Smith's front, when General 
Bowen and Colonel Montgomery were led 
blindfolded into the union lines. Thev 
bore a sealed communication from General 
Pemberton to General Grant, in which the 
former proposed an armistice, with a view 
to arranging terms for the capitulation of 
Vicksburg — three commissioners to be 
appointed from each army, for this pur- 
pose. General Pemberton added that he 
made this proposition to save the further 
effusion of blood, and feeling himself fully 
able to maintain his position for a yet 
indefinite period. 



To this document, General Grant made 
immediate reply, assuring General Pem- 
berton that the effusion of blood could at 
any time be avoided bj- an unconditional 
surrender of the city and garrison — that 
men who had shown so much endurance 
and courage as those in Vicksburg would 
be treated with all the respect due them as 
jn-isoners of war by their adversary, — and 
concluded bj' informing General Pember- 
ton that he did not favor the appointment 
of commissioners to arrange for a cajiitula- 
tion, as he had no other terms than those 
just indicated. 

General Pemberton then solicited a per- 
sonal interview, which was acceded to by 
General Grant, and appointed for three 
o'clock P. M., General Pemberton's mes- 
sengers returning with the answer at 
eleven a. m. At three o'clock precisely, 
one gun, the prearranged signal, was 
fired, and immediately replied to \>y the 
confederates. General Pemberton then 
made his appearance on the works in 
McPherson's front, under a white flag, 
considerably on the left of Port Hill. 
General Grant rode through the union 
trenches until he came to an outlet, lead- 
ing to a small green space, which had not 
been trod by either army. Here the party 
halted, until General Pemberton appeared, 
accompanied by General Bowen and 
Colonel Montgomery. Thousands of sol- 
diers looked upon this strange scene. Two 
men, who had been lieutenants in the 
same regiment in Mexico, now met as foes, 
with all the world, in a certain sense, 
looking upon them. ^Vhen they had ap- 
proached within a few feet. Colonel Mont- 
gomerj' said — 

" General Grant, General Pemberton." 

They shook hands and greeted each 
other familiarly, Pemberton remarking, 
playfully. " I was at Monterey and Buena 
Vista. T\'e had terms and conditions 
there." 

It was beneath the outspreading 
branches of a gigantic oak that the confer- 
ence of the generals took place. Here 
presented the only space whicli had not 
been used for some purpose or other l\y 



822 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177f>-18:fi. 



the contending hosts. Tlie groiuul was 
covered witli a fresh, luxuriant verdure; 
liere and there a shrub or cluini) of bushes 
could be seen standing out from the green 
prowtli on the surface, wliile several oaks 
filled up the scene, and gave it character. 
Some of the trees in their tops exhibited 
the effects of flying projectiles, b^- the loss 
of limbs or torn foliage, and in their 
trunks the indentations of smaller missiles 
jihiinly marked the occurrences to ■nhich 
tlii'V had been silent witnesses. The party 
made up to take part in the conference 
was composed as follows : JIajor-Generals 
Grant and ilcPlierson, and Hrigadier-Gen- 
eral Smith, of the union armj- ; and Lieu- 
tenant-General Pemberton, Major-General 
Bowen, and Colonel Jlontgomery, of the 
confederate army. It was not long before 
the momentous business which brought 
the party together was begun by Genenil 
Pemberton saying — 




OEXF.n.vL .1. B. jicrnEnsox, 

" General Grant, I meet you in order to 
arrange terms for the capitulation of the 
city of Vicksburg and its garrison. What 
terms do you propose ? " 

" Unconditional surrender," was the 
reply. 

"Unconditional surrender?" repeated 
General Pemberton ; " Never, so long as I 
have a man left me ! I will fight rather." 

"Then, sir," rejoined (Jeiieral Grant, 
"you can continue the defense. My army 
has never been in a better condition for 
the pi-osecution of the siege." 

During the passing of these few prelim- 
inaries, General Grant manifested all his 



natural self-possession, and evinced not 
the least sign of embarrassment ; and after 
a short conversation standing, the two 
generals, as by a kind of mutual tendency, 
wanilered off from the rest of the party 
and seated themselves on the grass, in a 
cluster of bushes, where alone they talked 
over the important events then pending. 
Here they sat more tlian an hour. Pem- 
berton played with the grass and pulled 
leaves. Grant, as usual, talked coolly, 
occasionally giving a few puffs at his favor- 
ite companion — his black cigar. Gener- 
als McPherson, Smith, and Bowen, and 
Colonel Montgomery, imitating the exam- 
ple of the commanding generals, seated 
themselves at some distance off, while the 
respective staffs of the generals formed 
another and larger group in the rear. 
After a length)- conversation the generals 
separated. General Pemberton did not 
come to any conclusion on the matter, but 
stated his intention to submit the matter 
to a council of general officers of liis com- 
mand ; and. in the event of their assent, 
the surrender of the city should be made 
in the morning. Until morning was given 
him to consider and determine upon the 
matter, and send in his final repl)-. The 
generals then rode to their respective 
quarters. It was, however, agreed that 
General Grant should confer with his offi- 
cers, and transmit, in writing, to General 
Pemberton, the terms he would accept. 
Promptly the note was sent by the hands 
of General Logan and Lieutenant-Colonel 
Wilson. It demanded, as from the tirst, 
the entire surrender of the place, the gar- 
rison, and the stores. " On your accejiting 
the terms proposed," General Grant's note 
stated, " I will march in one division as a 
guard, and take po.s.se.ssion at eight o'clock 
to-morrow morning. As soon as jiaroles 
can be made out, and signed by the officers 
and men, you w ill be allowed to manh out 
of our lines, the officers taking with them 
their regimental clothing, and staff, field, 
and cavalry officers one horse each. The 
rank and file will be allowed all their 
clothing, but no other proi)erty." 

Early the next morning, the glorious 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



82! 




Fourtli of July, General Pemberton's reply 
was returned. He accepted the terms on 
condition that liis troops should be per- 
mitted to march out with their colors and 
arms, stacking them outside of their works. 
To this, Grant made no objection. 

In his account of the grand closing 
scene in this momentous military transac- 
tion, Mr. Keim states that it was about 
one o'clock P. M., before matters had as- 
.sumed such a state of completion as would 
admit of the entrance of the city by the 
union army. Td General McFlierson icas 
accorded the honor of formally receiving 
the stipulated surrender. He met Pem- 
berton half a mile within the lines, where 
they were soon joined by Grant, and all, 
after a few minutes' parlej', rode together 
into town. Upon arriving at the court- 
house, the troops were drawn up in line, 
facing the building, and the national en- 
sign raised from its towering dome. This 
done, the ceremon}' of possession was com- 
jileted by the display of the flags of the 
Forty-fifth Illinois infantrj', and of the 
head-quarters of the Seventeenth corps. 
Upon the appearance of the flags, the 
troops joined in singing " Eallij Round 
the Flafj," with tumultuous enthusiasm, 
and cheered vociferously — making the city 
ring and echo to its very suburbs. In 
consideration of the active part trdii-n by 
the Seventeenth corps in the campaign 



which culminated in the capture of Vicks- 
burg, that command was designated by 
General Grant to take possession of the 
cit}'. No sooner was the flag thrown to 
the breeze from the court-house, than the 
admiral's glass caught sight of its beauti- 
ful folds, and in due time his vessel 
steamed down to the citj', followed by all 
the gun-boats in the neighborhood, and 
took possession of a few feet of river front. 
All this was duly done, after the authority 
of the army of the United States was 
secured beyond doubt. 

Rarely' if ever before was such a Fourth 
of July celebrated as this of 18G3. The 
tidings of the victories of Gettysburg and 
Vicksburg mingled together, and in every 
part of the loyal north enthusiastic demon- 
strations of joj' were indulged in. On the 
fifteenth of Jul}-, President Lincoln i:<sued 
a proclamation appointing August sixth as 
a day of national thanksgiving. 

The result of this memorable camjiaign 
and siege, as stated by General Grant, 
was, 'the defeat of the confederates in five 
battles outside of Vicksburg ; the occupa- 
tion of Ja' kson, the capital of Jlississippi ; 
a loss to the confederate army of thirty- 
seven thousand prisoners, among whom 
were fifteen general officers — and at least 
ten thousand killed and wounded, and 
among the killed Generals Tracy, Tilgh- 
man, and Green, and hunilreds, perhaps 



824 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



thousands, of stragglers, who can never be 
collected and reorganized. Arms and 
munitions of war for an army of si.\ty 
thousand men have fallen into our hands; 
besides a large amount of other public 
property, consisting of railroads, locomo- 
tives, cars, steam-boats, cotton, etc' The 
losses of the union array were about one 
thousand killed and a little more than 
seven thousand wounded — about one-half 
of them only slightly, and between live 
and six hundred missing. 

In all respects, the campaign resulting 
in the capture of Vicksburg was one oi the 
most skillfid in the annals of military 
strategy, and has justly- been pronounced 
unequaled in brilliancy of conception and 
the masterly tact \vitli which it was exe- 
cuted. One specially grand feature in the 
result was, that liy silencing the confeder- 
ate batteries that had so long controlled 
the Mississippi, that most majestic river 
on the globe was again thrown open for 
the unrestricted commerce of the United 
States from Cairo to the Gulf — or, as 
President Lincoln expressed it, 'The 
Father of AVaters again goes unvexed to 
the sea.' 

One of the most interesting chapters in 
the history of this campaign is tliat con- 
tained in a narrative of General Grant's 
interview with his friend Mr. Dubois, of 
Illinois, the facts of whicli, as given some 
time after in the public journals, were as 
follows : 

Early in April, 1863, Generals Grant, 
Sherman, and Og'.esby, Secretary of State 
Hatch, and Auditor Jesse R. Dubois, of 
Illinois, with some others, were on board 
the flagship of t'ninnioiloro Porter's squad- 
ron, the party having been up the Yazoo 
river to Haines's Bluff, on a reconnoisance 
of the fortifications. While the other 
gentlemen were in the cabin, discussing 
public questions, General Grant and his 
friend Dubois withdrew, and being in 
company together on the deck, the follow- 
ing conversation, in substance, ensued. 
General Grant said — 

" Uncle Jesse, to tell you the truth, I 
have come to my wit's end as regards the 



capture of Yicksburg. I really do not 
know what next move to make. I have 
tried everything I could think of, and here 
we are yet. I have been advised that we 
go back to Memphis, and commence an 
overland nianh from that point."' 

" General Grant, you cannot do that. 
If you take this army back to Memphis, 
with all this array of gun-boats and trans- 
ports and all your material of war, the 
effect will be disastrous on the country. 
. . . . If you can do no better, j-ou 
must storm Vicksburg. If it costs the 
lives of forty thousand men, it must be 
taken. It is a terrible thing to think of, 
but it must be done." 

General Grant replied that he would 
reflect upon the matter during the night, 
and let Mr. Dubois know of his determin- 
ation in the morning. AVhen the morning 
came, General Grant said — 

" Uncle Jesse, you are going home to- 
day ; tell Governor Yates and the people 
of Illinois for me, that I will take Vicks- 
burg in sixty da^'s." 

"General Grant, I am glad to hear you 
say this ; but all I ask you will allow me 
to tell them is, that you will take Vicks- 
burg, — I don't care whether in sixty days 
or six months." 

" / am hound to take it. I have decided 
on my plans. I will not tell you what 
they are. Even with the best intentions, 
you might disclose them to the detriment 
of the movement." 

They then parted, and General Grant 
detailed his plan to General Sherman, who 
protested in writing, but jilaced himself 
under the general's orders. 

Auditor Dubois went homo and told 
Governor Yates that Grant would take 
Vicksburg; that he had no doubt of it; 
that General Grant told him to tell him 
so, and that he must tell it to the people 
as coming from General Grant. This 
promise of General Grant was published 
in the papers at the time, and Governor 
Yates repeated it from the stump. 

Not the least interesting incidents in 
connection with this matter, in view of the 
final result, are, the written protest by 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



825 



General Sherman against General Grant's 
circuitous march around Vicksburg, and 
by wliich he cut himself off from his base 
of supplies; General Sherman's direction 
that the protest be forwarded to Washing- 
ton, and General Grant's never so forward- 
ing it; and afterward, when Vicksburg 
was about to surrender, the tearing up of 
said protest, by General Grant, in General 
Sherman's presence, much to the satisfac- 
tion of the latter. 

A more humorous incident, and which 
will bear to be repeated, was that which 
transpired in the presence of President 



Lincoln, to whom complaint had been 
made that General Grant was in the habit 
of using intoxicating drinks to excess. 
"So I understand Grant drinks wliiskey to 
excess ? " interrogatively remarked the 
president. " Yes," was the reply. "What 
whiskej' does he drink ? " inquired Mr. 
Lincoln. " What whiskey ? " doubtfully 
queried his hearers, " Yes. Is it Bour- 
bon or Monongahela? " " Wlij' do you 
ask, Mr. President?" "Because, if it 
makes him win victories like this at Vicks- 
burg, I will send a demijohn of the same 
kind to every general in the army." 



XCVI. 

THREE DATS' BATTLE BETWEEN THE CONCENTRATED 

ARMIES OF GENERALS MEADE AND LEE, AT 

GETTYSBURG, PA.— 1863. 



Overwlielming InvRsion of Pennsylvania by tlie Confederate Forces — The Union Army Drives Tiiem 
with Grent Slaughter Across the rotuniac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the Sent of War Inini 
Viri;inia to Northern Soil — One of the Most Decisive ami Important Feileral Victories in the Great 
American Civil Conflict. — I.ee's Army Impatient to go North — Order of March at Last — Consterna- 
tion in the Border States — Call for One Hundred Thousand More Men — Advance of Meade's Army. 
— Face to Face with the Foe — F.nganemcnt IJetween the Vanguards — Terrific Artillery Contests — 
Movements and Counter Movements. — Severe Ueverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery 
Hill. — Longstreet's Furious Onset. — .Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettyshurg a Vast IIo.«piial — 
Crawford's Grand Charge — Standing by the Batteries! — llandtoHand Conflict — Following llic 
Battle Flag. — Deadly and Impetuous Fighting — Forty one Confederate Standards Taken. — Un- 
bounded Joy ot tlie Victors. — President Lincoln's Announcement. 



" thin day heth insd« 

Moch work ffir te*n In nuinv n Iinjili.." nmlher, 
Wboaw DolkA li« ftCuttert'd uii CtxK bi^^-tliUH gruuDd." 



^ _,^^-fc EE'S vast and powerful army liad ]onp; waited, with eager and restless 



expectation, lor the ofder of march from their iliieftaiii wliich sliould 

enulile them to transfer the seat of civil war 
from the familiar encampments and blood- 
stained hattle-field.s of YiiKiiiia to the soil of 
the Xorth. Thi' jilans of the conimandiiig 
general were in due time arranged with this 
end in view, and, about the middle of June, 
18((3, he l)egan to move his troops across the 
rotomao, and soon took possession of Hagers- 
town, !Md., intending immediately to move 
thence, in full force, direct to Pennsylvania. 
Such a movement, on the part of the con- 
federate army, so sudden and well executed, produced great consternation 
throughout the north. President Lincoln issued a call for one hundred thousand addi- 
tional men from the loyal states nearest the theater of military o])erations ; and Gen- 
eral Meade, who had just succeeded General Hooker in command of the army of the 
Potomac, lost no time in advancing his army northward, as far a.s Harrisburg, Pa., (he 
place of destination of Lee's forces. The army of General Meade consisted of the fol- 
lowing corps : First, under command of General Reynolds, and subsequently under 




MEADEVI nEAD-QCARTERS. 



I 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



827 



General Doiibleday ; second, under Gen- 
eral Hancock ; third, under General Sick- 
les ; fifth, under General Sedgwick ; 
eleventh, under General Howard ; twelfth, 
under General Slocum. Total number of 
men, sixty to eighty thousand, with two 
hundred guns. The army of General Lee 
consisted of General Hill's corps, General 
Longstreet's, and General Ewell's ; in all, 
about ninety thousand men, and two hun- 
dred guns. 

On tlie first of July, the advanced corps 
of the union army, led by Reynolds and 
Howard, engaged the confederate forces 
near Gettysburg. General Reynolds ap- 
proached the town from the soutji-east, the 
confederates evacuating it on his arrival. 
He passed tlirough and out (saj's the 
account of a writer in the Philadelphia 
Age) on the west side toward Chambers- 
burg. He mai'ched several mile.s, was met 
by the enem}' in stronger force, and after 
a slight contest was compelled to retire. 
The confederates pushed him very hard, 
and he came into the town on a run, his 
troops going along every available road, 
and rushing out on the east side, closely 
pursued. One of his brigades with a con- 
federate brigade on each side of it. All 
three were abreast, running as hard as 
they could, — the two outside ones pouring 
a heavy fire into the center, out of which 
men dropped, killed or wounded, at almost 
every footstep. This federal brigade, in 
running that terrible gauntlet, lost half its 
men. General Reynolds was killed, and 
Gettysburg was lost ; but the federal 
troops succeeded in mounting the Ceme- 
tery Hill, and the confederates ceased pur- 
suing. At night, the latter encamped in 
the town, and the union troops on the 
hill. During Wednesday night and 
Thursday morning, the two armies were 
concentrating on the two ridges, which 
were to be the next day's line of battle, 
and by noon on Thursday each general 
liad a force of eighty thousand men at his 
disposal. Then herjnn the great artilkry 
contest, the infantry on both sides crouch- 
ing behind fences and trees and in rifle- 
pits. The federal soldiers in the cemetery 



laid many of the tombstones on the ground 
to prevent injury, so that many escaped. 
Tliere was but little infantry fighting on 
Tliursdaj-, and neither party made much im- 
pression on the other. The confederates in 
the other town erected barricades, and had 
their sharpshooters posted in every availa- 
ble spot, picking off federal soldiers on the 
hills to the north of the cemetery. The 
cannonade was fierce and incessant, and 
shells from both sides flew over and into 
the devoted town. Beyond killing and 
wounding, breaking trees and shattering 
houses, and making an awful noise, how- 
ever, this cannonade had but little effect 
on the result of the battle. Both sides 
fought with great ferocity, and neither 
coidd drive the other out of position. 

On Thursday night, fearing that the 
enemy had flank parties which might turn 
his rear. General Meade liad serious inten- 
tions of a change in his plan of movements, 
and he called a council of war. The ad- 
vice of some of his generals, however, and 
the capture of a courier with dispatches 
from Richmond, from which it was learned 
that the confederates could receive no 
re-enforcements, made him decide not to 
alter his programme. On Friday morning. 
General Lee did not desire to make the 
attack. He saw the superiority of the 
federal position, and wished to entice them 
out of it and down into the valley. With 
this design in view, he withdrew all liis 
sharpshooters and infantry from Gettj's- 
burg. Tlie deserted town lay there a very 
tempting bait, but General Meade's men 
hid quietlj' behind the fences and trees, 
and the banks upon the hills. They could 
look down into the streets and see every- 
thing that was in progress. They saw the 
confederates march out and retire to tlie 
seminar}', but made no advance, and the 
confederates gained nothing by the move- 
ment. A parting salute of musketrj-, 
however, from a knoll north of the ceme- 
terj', accelerated the confederate retreat. 
For some time the town had scarcely a 
soldier in it. Scores of dead and wounded 
men and horses, with broken wagons, 
bricks, stones, timber, torn clothinfr. prid 



828 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(>-1876. 



abandoned accoutrements, lay there. The 
frightfned inhabitants peered out of their 
windows to see wliat the armies were doing 
to cause such a lull and, almost afraid of 
their own shadows, they hastened away 
and crouched in corners and cellars at the 
sound of every shot or shell. 

Of the stirring scenes that so soon fol- 
lowed, the same correspondent says : Gen- 
eral Lee's evacuation, liowever, had no 
effect. Meade was neither to be enticed 
into the town nor into the valley. Enough 
dead bodies lay in the lields and streets to 
give him warning of what happened to 
poor ReynoMs two days before, and he 
wisely determined to stay where he was 
and let events shape themselves. The 
confederates soon became impatient. They 
could wait no longer ; an<l after nmcli 
solicitation from his subordinates, General 




Lee permitted General Longstreet to send 
his grand division on a charge upon the 
cemetery. Tlie federal soldiers were on 
the alert. They were hid behind their 
embankments, some kneeling, and some 
flat on the ground. The confederate artil- 
lery opened. It was as fierce a cannonade 
as the one the day before, but instead of 
being spread all over the line, every shell 
was thrown at the cemetery. Experienced 
soldiers soon divined what was coming, 
and, in every portion of the federal line, 
the cannon were directed toward the valley 
in front of the cemetery. All were ready. 
Amidst the furious fire from the confeder- 



ate cannon scarcely a federal shot was 
heard. The artillerists, implements in 
hand, crouched in the little ditches dug 
behind their cannon. With arms loaded, 
the infantry awaited the charge. It soon 
came. From the woods of sliort, scrubby 
timber and the rocks near the seminar}', 
there rose a yell. It was a long, loud, 
unremitting, /lideous screech, from thou- 
sands of voices. At the yell, the federal 
cannon opened. Soon the confederate col- 
umns emerged from the woods. They 
came on a rush down the hill, waving their 
arms and still screeching. They climbed 
the fences and rushed along, each one bent 
upon getting first into the cemetery. Tlie 
cannon roared, and grape and canister and 
spherical case fell thick among tlieiii. 
Still tl;e\- rushed onward, hundreds falling 
out of the line. They came within musket- 
shot of the federal troops. Then the small 
arms began to rattle. The confederates 
approached the outer line of works. They 
were laboring up the hill. As they 
inounted the low bank in front of the riflc- 
jiits, the federal soldiers retreated out of 
the ditch behind, turning and firing as 
they went along. It was a hand-to-hand 
conflict. Every man fought for himself 
and by himself. Mjriads of (iiiifederates 
pushed forward down the bill, across into 
the works, and up to the cemetery. All 
were shouting, and s<'n'aniing, and swear- 
ing, dashing their arms and firing their 
jiieces. The confedei-ate shells flew over 
the field upon the federal artillerists on 
the hills above. These, almost disregard- 
ing the storm which raged around them, 
directed all their fire n]ion the surging 
columns of the enemy's charge. Every 
available cannon on Cemetery Hill, and to 
the right and left, threw its shells and 
.shot in the valley. The fight was terrible ; 
but, despite every effort, the confederates 
jnished u]) the hill and across the second 
line of works. The fire became hotter. 
The fight swayed back and forth. One 
moment the confederates would beat the 
railings of the cemetery; then a rush 
from the federal side would drive them 
down into the valley. Then, with one of 



GllEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



829 



their horritl screeches, thej- would fiercely 
run up the hill again iuto the cemetery, 
and have a fierce battle among the tomb- 
stones. It was the hardest fight of the 
day, and hundreds were slain there. Sev- 
eral attempts wore made to take tlio place, 
but they were not successful, and late in 
the afternoon, leaving dead and wounded 
behind them, the confederate forces re- 
treated upon their own hill and into their 
woods again. They were not routed. 
They can scarcely be said to have been 
driven. They made an attack and were 
repulsed, and, after renewed attempts, 
feeling that it was useless to try any more, 
tliey retreated. It was now General 
Meade's turn to make an attack. Though 
they had lost heavily they felt elated. 
They saw hopes of a victory, and were 
ready to do almost anything to secure it. 
Althougli there had been a battle in the 
valley below Gettysburg, yet the town was 
as quiet and as much deserted as ever. 
Shells flew over it, and now and then one 
of its houses would have a wall cracked or 
a roof broken, but neither force possessed 
it. General Meade turned his attention 
there. 

The dajf was waning and the battle had 
lulled, and Meade determined, if possible, 
to drive the confederates out of the semin- 
ary. This was done, according to the 
writer already quoted, as follows : His 
troops were placed in order, and charged 
down the hill and into the town. They 
ran along every street, chasing a few of 
the enemy still hid there, before them. 
They came out upon the west side, along 
the Emmettsburg and Chambersburg 
roads, and ascended the enemy's hills 
amidst a storm of grape and shell. At 
the seminary the confederates were not 
very strong. Tliey had weakened that 
portion of the line to make their attack 
further to the south upon the cemetery. 
They had but few cannon ; and though 
they resisted some time, they finally re- 
treated from the edge of the hill and aban- 
doned the seminary. The federal troops 
did not chase them. The land back of the 
seminary was rather flat and cut up into 



grain fields, with here and there a patch 
of woods. The rifle-pits on the brow of 
the hill proved an effectual aid to the fed- 
eral soldiers in maintaining their ground ; 
and as they lay behind the bank, with the 
ditch in front, they could pick off the 
stragglers from the retreating enemy. 
There was but little serious fighting after 
that, and night put an end to Friday's 
struggle, the confederates having retired 
about a mile on the north, near the semin- 
ary, and half a mile on the south, at a 
little stream. During the night, the dead 
in the streets of Gettysburg were buried, 
and the wounded on all parts of the field 
were collected and carried to the rear. On 
the next morning, General Meade expected 
another attack; but, instead of making it, 
the confederates retreated further, aban- 
doning their entire line of battle, and the 
pickets reported that they were intrench- 
ing at the foot of South Mountain. The 
federal army was terribly crippled and 
sadly in need of rest, and no advance was 
made, altliough pickets were thrown across 
the enemy's old line of battle, and toward 
the place where they were building in- 
trenchments. All the day was spent in 
feeding and resting the men. Gettysburg 
was turned into a vast hospital, and im- 
promptu ones were made at a dozen places 
on the field. The rain came, too, and with 
it cool air and refreshment both from wind 
and rain. No one could tell what the con- 
federates were doing ; every picket reported 
that they were intrenching, and the night 
of the fourth of July closed upon the field, 
the federal army being in full possession. 

The gallant charge made by the division 
under Crawford's command, contributed 
very materially to saving the left of the 
federal army. The confederates had 
massed their troops on Crawford's left. 
The third corps, Sickles's, had been en- 
gaging the enemy, but were overpow- 
ered, and several guns had been lost. 
Two divisions, of the fifth corps, Sykes's, 
had been also engaged, but nothing could 
withstand the confederate pressure, and 
their troops gave way. Several thou- 
sand arms had been lost. On came the 



830 



OUR FIKST CENTURY.— 177G-1S7G. 




GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



831 



confederates iu a dark mass, across the 
wheat field, over the stone wall, and across 
the ravine. At this moment, while the 
fugitives were rusliing through Crawford's 
ranks, he ordered a charge. He was 
drawn up in line of battle, and in column 
of division. His men, with loud cheers, 
rushed forward. Crawford himself rode to 
the front, and, seizing the flag of the lead- 
ing regiment, encouraged the men. They 
dashed in ; volley after volley was poured 
into the confederate ranks. The federals 
got ahead, and drove the confederates back 
across the ravine, over the stone wall, and 
through the wheat field, retaking the 
unionists' ground and an immense quantity 
of arms. The left of the federal position 
was saved by this charge, enabling them 
to remain masters of the field. 

A fit illustration of the sanguinary char- 
acter of the afternoon struggle already' de- 
scribed, is that given by Mr. Whitelaw Reid, 
one of the gifted correspondents of the Cin- 
cinnati Gazette. Mr. Reid says that some 
Massachusetts batteries — Captain Bige- 
low's, Captain Phillips's, and two or three 
more under Captain McGilvry, of Maine 
— were planted on the extreme left, ad- 
vanced now well down to the Emmettsburg 
road, with infantry in their front, — the 
first division of Sickles's corps. A little 
after five, a fierce confederate charge drove 
back the infantry and menaced the batter- 
ies. Orders were sent to Bigelow on the 
e.xtreme left, to liold his position nt ei'enj 
hazard short of sheer annihilation, till a 
couple more batteries could be brought to 
his support. Reserving his fire a little, 
then with depressed guns opening with 
double charges of grape and canister, he 
smote and shattered, but could not break 
the advancing line. His grape and canis- 
ter became exhausted, and still, closing 
grandly up over their slain, on they rushed. 
He fell back on spherical case, and poured 
this in at the shortest range. On, still 
onward, came the artillery-defying line, 
and still he held his position. They got 
within six paces of the guns — he fired 
again. Once more, and he blew devoted 
soldiers from their very muzzles. And, 



still mindful of that solemn order, he held 
his place; they spring upon his carriages, 
and shoot his horses ! And then, his 
Yankee artillerists still about him, he 
seized the guns by hand, and from the 
very front of that line dragged two of them 
off. The caissons were farther back — five 
out of the six are saved. That single com- 
pany, in that half hour's fight, lost thirtj'- 
three of its men, including every sergeant 
it had, and the captain himself was 
wounded. Yet it was the first time it was 
ever under fire. So they fought along 
that fiery line ! The confederates now 
poured upon Phillips's batterj-, and it, too, 
was forced to drag off the pieces by hand 
when the horses were shot down. From a 
new position, it opened again ; and at last 
the two re-enforcing batteries came up on 
the gallop. An enfilading fire swept the 
confederate line ; Sickles's gallant infantry 
charged, the confederate line swept back 
on a refluent tide — the unionists regained 
their lost ground, and everj^ gun they had 
just lost in this splendid fight. 

Mr. Reid, as an eye witness, character- 
izes the sanguinary struggle at four o'clock 
as tJie great, desperate, and final charge. 
The confederates seemed to have gathered 
up all their strength and desiJeration for 
one fierce, convulsive effort, that should 
sweep over and wash out all resistance. 
Thej' swept up as before ; the flower of 
their army to the front — victory staked 
upon the issue. In some places, they lit- 
erally lifted up and pushed back the union 
lines ; but, that« terrible ' position ' of the 
federals ! — wherever they entered it, enfi- 
lading fires from half a score of crests 
swejjt away their columns like merest 
chaff. Broken and hurled back, they 
easily became prisoners; and on the center 
and left, the last half hour brought more 
prisoners than all the rest. So it was 
along the whole line ; but it was on the 
second corps that the flower of the confed- 
erate army was concentrated ; it was there 
that the heaviest shock beat upon, and 
shook, and even sometimes crumbled, the 
federal line. The federals had some shal- 
low rifle-pits, with barricades of rails from 



832 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the fences. The confederate line, stretch- 
ing away miles to the left, in magnificent 
array, but strongest here, — Pickett's splen- 
did division of Longstreet's corps in front, 
tlie best of A. P. Hill's veterans in support i 
— came steadily, and as it seemed resist- 
lesslj", sweeping up. The federal skir- 
mishers retired slowly from the Emmetts- 
burg road, holding their ground tenaciously 
to the last. The confederates reserved j 
their fire till they reached this same Em- 
mettsburg road, then opened with a ter- 
rific crasli. From a lunidred ima throats, 
meantime, their iirtillcry bad liecn thun- 
dering on tlie union barricades. Hancock 
was wounded ; Gibbon succeeded to the 
command — approved soldier, and ready for 



mere macliino strength of their combined 
action — swept tlie confederates on. The 
federal thin line could fight, but it had not 
weight enough to oppose to this momen- 
I turn. It was pushed behind the guns. 
Right on came the confederates. They 
were upon the guns — were bayoneting the 
gunners — were waving their flags above 
the federal jiieces. But they had pene- 
j trated to the fatal point. A storm of 
! grape and canister tore its way from niau 
' to man, and marked its track with corpses 
straight down tlieir line ! They had ex- 
posed themselves to tlie enfilading fire of 
the guns on the western slope of Cemetery 
Hill; that ex[iosure .sealed their fate. The 
line reeled back — disjointed already — in 




Y^^..^ 



the crisis. As the tempest of fire ap- 
proached its height, he walked along the 
line, and renewed liis orders to the men to 
reserve their fire. The confederates — 
three lines deei> — came steadily up. They 
were in point-lilank range. At last the 
order came/ From thrice six thousand 
guns, there came a sheet of smoky flame, 
a crash, a rush of leaden death. The line 
literally melted away ; but there came the 
second, resistless still. It had been the 
unionists' supreme effort — on the instant, 
they were not equal to another. Up to 
the rifle-pits, across them, over the barri- 
cades — the momentum of their charge, the 



an instant in fragments. The union 
troops were just l)ehind the guns. They 
leaped forward upon tlie disordered mass; 
but there was little need for fighting now. 
A regiment threw down its arms, and, 
with colors at its head, rushed over and 
surrendered. All along the field, smaller 
detachments did the same. AVebb's bri- 
gade brought in eight hundred; Gibbon's 
old division took fifteen stand of colors. 
Over the fields, the escaped fragments of 
the charging line fell back — the battle 
there was over. A single brigade, Har- 
row's, came out with fifty-four less officers, 
and seven hundred and ninety-three less 



GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



833 



men (the Seventh Michigan regiment was 
of this brigade,) than it took in. So the 
whole corps fought — so too they fought 
farther down the line. It was fruitless 
sacrifice. They gathered up their broken 
fragments, formed their lines, and slowly 
marched away. It was not a rout, it was 
a bitter, crushing defeat. 

Among the individual instances of brav- 
ery narrated of this terrible combat be- 
tween the two great armies, that of Henry 
Shaler, of Indianapoli.s, will bear repeti- 
tion, for he seems to have more than 
equaled the self-told mythical performance 
of the Irishman who 'surrounded' a half- 
dizen of the enemy and bagged them 
plump. Shaler took more prisoners in 
this battle than any other man in the 
army — in all, twent3'-five men, including 
one lieutenant and eighteen privates at 
one swoop. He took them by strategy of 
the most undoubted kind ; that is, he sur- 
rounded them, and they had to give up. 
On the morning of the fourth, he went out 
with his 'ijoncho' over his shoulders, so 
that the confederates couldn't see his coat, 
and thus they thought he was one of their 
own men. He went up and told them to 
lay down their arms and come and help 
carry some wounded off the field ; they 
did so. When he got them away from 
their arms, he rode up to the lieutenant 
and told him to give up his sword. The 
lieutenant refused at first, but Shaler drew 
his revolver, and the lieutenant yielded 
without a shot, and the whole squad were 
then escorted by their gallant captor into 
camp. 

The heroism of General Kilpatrick — 
like that of Couch, Geary, Buford, Birney, 
Newton, Gregg, Mcintosh, Neil, and oth- 
ers — was conspicuous from first to last. 
On the thirteenth, some ten days after the 
close of the conflict. General Kilpatrick 
was anxious to make an advance, but 
could not obtain orders. Some of the 
Pennsylvania militia having been placed 
at his disposal, be thought he would try 
one regiment under fire. The Philadel- 
phia Blues were selected, and, accompa- 
nied by the First Vermont cavalry, a dem- 
53 



onstration was made on the right — the 
confederates then occupying a fortified 
position. The militia were now deployed, 
the general desiring them to move to the 
crest of a knoll, where the bullets were 
flying pretty livelj'. There was some hes- 
itancy' at first, whereupon a battle-flag pre- 
sented to the division by the ladies of 
Boonsboro' was sent to the front. Ser- 
geant Judy, bearer of the flag, cried out — 
" Tlds is General Kilpatrick' s hattle- 
flag ; follow it ! " 

The militia obeyed the summons 
promptly', and fell some distance in front 
of the line, and it was supposed for some 
time that the enemy had captured the flag; 
but at night, when Judy was brought in 
on a litter, he proudly waved the battle- 
flag. The novelty of being thus under 
fire for the first time was keenly felt by 
the militia. About the first man touched 
had the tojj of his head grazed just close 
enough to draw blood. He halted — threw 
down his musket — truly an astonished 
man ! One or two officers and a dozen or 
more privates ran hurriedly to see what 
the matter was. Running both hands over 
his pate, and seeing blood, he exclaimed, 
"A ball ! a ball ! "—while the others stood 
on agajje with astonishment, until tiie 
shrill voice of the general sounded in their 
ears : " Move on there ! " 

On the opening movement being made 
to baffle Lee's march toward Pennsj'lva- 
nia, the spirit which animated those who 
bad gone forth in defense of the American 
Union — "man's last, best hope, of free 
government," — was conspicuously mani- 
fest. At a distance of fifteen miles from 
Gettj'sburg, where the armies were mass- 
ing, were first caught the murmurs of the 
opening battle, and from that time the 
scene was all enthusiasm among the weary, 
foot-sore federals, who counted as nothing 
all the pains of a march of nearly two hun- 
dred miles, now that they were within 
striking distance of the foe. Most of the 
way, the ambulance train had been crowded 
with both officers and men, weary, worn, 
and haggard ; but the cannon's rattle, as 
it became more and more distinct, changed 



834 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



them in a twinkling into new creatures. 
The New Jersey brigade, in Sedgwick's 
corps, was of this bodj-. At about three 
o'clock on the afternoon of July 3d, the 
head of the column arrived on tlie battle- 
ground. As it came to a halt, a poor fel- 




80LDIER8' MONUMENT XT OETTY8BDHO. 

low, who looked the very image of death, 
hobbled out of the ambulance in which he 
had been lying, and, shouldering his 
musket, was just .starting forward, when 
the surgeon stopped him with — 
" Where are you going, sir ? " 
" To tlie front, doctor," — and the brave 
fellow tried hard to stand firm and speak 
boldly as he saluted the surgeon. 

" To the front ! What ! a man in i/our 
condition ? Why, sir, you can't march 



half a mile ; you haven't the strength to 
carry yourself, let alone your knapsack, 
musket, and e(|uipmeuts. You must be 
craz}', surely." 

" But, doctor, my division are in the 
fight," (here he grasped the wheel of an 
ambulance to support himself,) " and I have 
a younger brother in my company. I 
must go." 

•' But I am 3'our surgeon, and I forbid 
you. You have every symptom of ty- 
phoid fever; a little over-exertion will kill 
you." 

"Well, doctor, if I 7nust die, I would 
rather die in the field, than in an ambu- 
lance." 

The doctor saw it was useless to debate 
the point, and the soldier went as he de- 
sired. But on the evening of the next 
day he was buried where he fell — for fall 
he did — his right arm blown off at the 
elbow, and his forehead pierced by a minie 
ball. 

The impetuous bravery with which the 
confederate troops fought is illustrated by 
the fact that every brig.adier in Pickett's di- 
vision was killed or wounded ; out of twen- 
ty-four regimental officers, onl3' two escaped 
unhurt ; the colonels of five Virginia reg- 
iments were killed ; the ninth Virginia 
went in with two hundred and fifty men, 
and came out with only thirty-eight. 
These data .show that the total casualties 
of the confederate army, though never 
officially published, must have been im- 
mense — greater, jjrobably, than those of 
the victorious. The latter, as given by 
General Meade, were as follows : two 
thousand and eight hundred and thirty- 
four killed ; thirteen thousand and seven 
hundred and nine wounded ; six thou- 
sand and six hundred and forty-three 
missing. The union army took forty- 
one standards, nearly twenty-five thou- 
sand small arms, and about fourteen 
thousand prisoners. 

So great was the joy throughout the 
loj-al states, as the tidings of victory 
flashed across the wires, that, on the fore- 
noon of July 4th, President Lincoln offi- 
cially telegraphed as foUovvs • 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



835 



"The President announces to the coun- 
try that news from the Army of the Poto- 
mac, up to 10 P. M. of the 3d, is such as to 
cover that army with the highest honor; 
to promise a great success to the cause of 
the Union, and to claim the condolence 



of all for the many gallant fallen ; and 
that for this he especially desires that 
on this day, He, whose will, not ours, 
should ever be done, be everj'where re- 
membered and reverenced with profound- 
est gratitude." 



XCVII. 

ORATORICAL CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN 
ENGLAND, BY REV. H. W. BEECHER.— 18G3. 



His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of the Kingdom — His 
Eloquence Kises to the Very Crown of the Occasion. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic Power in Liv- 
erpool. — He Wrestles, Single Handed and Triumphantly, for Three Hours, with a Vast and Tumul- 
tuous Mob in that City.— Reception at Exeter Hall, London.— Mr. Beecher's Tour Undertaken for His 
Health. — Reaches England, Homeward Bound. — Civil Conflict Raging in America — Mr. Beecher 
Urged to Speak on United States Affairs. — Opening Speech in Manchester. — Great Audience of 
Seven Thousand. — Attempts to Silence Him. — Powerlessness of the Opposition — Splendid Qualities 
as an Orator. — Discussions in Glasgow and Edinburgh. — Battle Waged by Mr. Beecher in Liverpool. 
— Violent Efforts to Gag Him. — A Maddened Sea of Insult. — Taunts, Curses, Hisses, Fury. — 
Stampings, Hootings, Yellings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good Humor. — He Triumphs Over the Wild 
Tempest. — A Spectacle Never Before Witnessed. — Grand Closing Scene in the British Capital. — 
Vast and Excited Assembly. — He Carries the House by Storm. — Plaudits and Congratulations. 



•* A more remarkible cmbafBv thm iny cnroy who hai represented ua In Europe nince Franklin 
lie ot the Court of Ver»aillt:s."'—Tiitt "Atl*.stic .Mosthlv.^ 



pleaded the ctn»e of the young Reputi- 



•]CID1' 
ican 




']DLY the most iiieinoraMe oratorical success ever achieved by an Amer- 
citizen abroad, in behalf of the name and honor of his country, was that 
by the Rev. Henry Ward Beeclier, in England 
during the great conflict of arms then raging in 
the United States. Leaving his great parish in 
the city of Brooklyn, N. Y., in the summer of 
18C3, for a tour in Europe, with a view to the 
restoration of his health, it was not until October 
following, soon after reaching England, with his face set 
hnnipward, that he was prevailed upon to address a pulilic 
audicnic, as the champion of the American Union, and de- 
fender of the national government. 

Beginning at Manchester, October 9th, Mr. Beecher de- 

ivered live great speeches in the great cities of the king- 

<lom — Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Liverpool, and 

Tjondon, — each speech being devoted to some special train of 

thought and argument bearing upon the issues involved in 

the momentous contest ; and the whole series, taken together, 

did more for the Union cause in Great Britain than all that 

had before been said or written. Possessing the faculty, 

beyond any other American orator, of combining close, 

r.apid, powerful, ])ractical reasoning, with intense passion, — his mind 

always aglow with his subject,— the effect of Mr. Beecher's speaking 



GEEAT AJ^D IVIEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



837 



is to kindle sympathy, even if it does not 
flash conviction. It is this quality, ac- 
cording to the opinion of those who are 
best acquainted with Mr. Beecher's oratory, 
which, combined with his marvelous power 
of illustration — marvelous alike for its 
intense vividness and unerring pertinency 
— and his great flexibility, whereby he 
adapts himself completely to the exigency 
of the instant, gives him a rare command 
over a popular assemblage. 

Free Trade Hall was the place selected 
for Mr. Beecher's apjjearance in Man- 
chester. Though cajjable of holding seven 
thousand persons, the hall was densely 
crowded, and the sjjeaker received a wel- 
come such as, in point of enthusiasm, had 
rarely fell to the lot of any other man. 
On this occasion, he gave a history of that 
series of political movements, extending 
through half a century, the logical and 
inevitable end of which was open conflict 
between the two opposing forces of free- 
dom and slavery. There were in the 
meeting a few hundred opponents who 
frequentlj' interrupted Mr. Beecher, but 
these checks only served to show how 
powerless was the opposition, and how 
forcible was the impression made by the 
speaker. His pointed remarks were fre- 
quently greeted with rounds of applause, 
and when, at the close of his address, he 
read a telegram just received from Liver- 
pool, that the " broad arrow " of the British 
government had that day been placed upon 
the suspected steam-rams in the Mersey, 
the enthusiasm reached its climax. The 
whole audience rose, vociferously cheering, 
and waving hats and handkerchiefs. 

Not to dwell upon the scenes character- 
izing Mr. Beecher's efforts in Glasgow 
and Edinburgh, it may be remarked that, 
in Liverpool, he waged such a battle with 
the vast and tumultuous throng assembled 
there to gag and stifle him, as, perhaps, 
no other public speaker in the world could 
have fought, in a strange land, and not 
been utterly vanquished. He here, in this 
great center of commercial and manufac- 
turing interests, labored to show how 
those interests are injured bv slavery, — 



that the attempt to cover the fairest por- 
tion of the earth with a slave population 
that buys nothing, and a degraded white 
population that buys next to nothing, 
should array against it the sympathy of 
every true political economist and every 
thoughtful and far-seeing manufacturer, as 
tending to strike at the vital want of com- 
merce, namely, not the want of cotton, but 
the want of customers. Amidst the most 
violent attempts to drown his voice and 
shut his lips, INIr. Beecher remained 
master of the platform, abundantlj' prov- 
ing to the mob the truth of his asser- 
tion, " I am born without moral fear. I 
have expressed my views in any audience, 
and it never cost me a struggle. I never 
could help doing it." So, too, in answer 
to the taunts and sarcasm of those who 
wished ill to the Union and looked with 
satisfaction upon the evidences of its ap- 
proaching dismemberment, came the dec- 
laration : 

" Standing bj' my cradle, standing by 
my hearth, standing by the altar of the 
church, standing by all the places that 
mark the name and memory of heroic men 
who poured their blood and lives for prin- 
ciple, I declare that in ten or twentj^ years 
of war we will sacrifice everything we 
have for principle. If the love of popular 
liberty is dead in Great Britain, you will 
not understand us ; but if the love of 
libertv lives as it once lived, and has 
worthy successors of those renowned men 
that were our ancestors as much as yours, 
and whose example and principles we 
inherit to make fruitful as so much seed- 
corn in a new and fertile land, then you 
will understand our firm, invincible deter- 
mination — deep as the sea, firm as the 
mountains, but calm as the heavens above 
us — to fight this war through at all hazards 
and at every cost. "' 

Throughout all the tumultuous demon- 
strations on the part of his Liverpool 
audience, his pluck and good humor never 
for a moment forsook him. His perfect 
self-possession, his readiness, his jovial 
wit, gave him the mastery in the fearful 
odds against which he had to battle. 



838 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Another orator might have withered the 
mob with invective, but he conquered tliein 
with humor. He turned the hiugh against 
them. He parried their blows, and at the 
same time struck home, so that the recoil 
made them wince in sjiite of their bravado. 
It was a grand spectacle, in St. George's 
Hall, Liverpool, when he struggled for 
nearly three livelong hours against that 
raging sea of insult, taunt, irony, imper- 
tinent questioning, blackguardism, curses, 
hisses, cat-calls, stamjiings, hootings, yell- 
ings — every possible manifestation of hate, 
every possible form of disorder ; but this 
strong-wingod bird of the storm matched 
his might against it — now soaring up to 



In the course of this great and exciting 
discussion, the orator touched upon a point 
or question frequently asked and honestly 
entertained by those not acquainted with 
the structure of the American government. 
" It is said, ' Why not let the South go ? ' 
[Hear, hear, and cheers.] ' Since they 
won't be at peace with you, whj' do you 
not let them sejiarate from you '? ' Because 
they would be less peaceable separated 
than they are together. [Hear, hear.] 
Oh, if the South only would go ! [Laugh- 
ter.] They are determined to .-itay — that 
is the trouble. [Hear, hear.] We would 
furnish free passage to every mother's son 
of them, if they would go. [Laughter.] 




DEFESDINO THE 



I NION, IN EXETER UALL, LONDON. 



overcome it — now sinking down to under- 
mine it — now dashing in its teeth — now 
half-choked in the gust of its fury, but 
always moving onward, and in the end rid- 
ing triumjihant on the very crest of its 
wildest billows. There was not a more 
heroic achievement on any field of battle 
during the Great American Conflict, than 
the successful delivery of Mr. Beecher's 
speech against the tempest of odds which 
opposed it. This is the testimony which 
the loyal American press universally bore 
to the value of Mr. Beecher's efforts in 
vindicating the national cause so courage- 
ously and ably. 



t' 



But we say, 'That territorij is ours 
[Cheers.] Let them go, and leave the 
nation its territory, and they will have our 
unanimous consent. [Renewed cheers.] 
But I do not wish to discuss this even in 
in this ad captanduni way. I wish — 
because this seems to me the very marrow 
of the matter — I wish to ask you to stand 
in our place for a little time, and see this 
question as we see it, then afterwards 
make up your judgment as j'ou think best. 
[Hear, hear.] And first, this war began 
by the act of the South — firing at that 
old flag that had covered both sections 
with glory and jirotection. [Applause.] 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



839 



(Some geutleman on the platform here 
offered Mr. Beecher a glass of water.) 
No, thauk you (said Mr. Beecher) ; I 
want neither water nor lozenges. [Laugh- 
ter.] Time, patience, and my own good 
lungs, will make me heard. I expect to 
be hoarse ; I am willing to be hoarse. I 
think that if I might but bring the mother 
and the daughter heart to heart and hand 
to hand [loud applause], I would be will- 
ing to be silent for a twelvemonth in so 
good a work as that. [Cheers.] The war 
began under circumstances that obliged 
the North to join issue in order to prevent 
actual humiliation and subjugation. . . 
. . And for the North to have lain down 
like a spaniel — to have given up the terri- 
tory that every child in America is taught, 
as every child in Britain is taught, to 
regard as his sacred right and his trust — 
to have given that territory uj) without a 
thought, without a blow, would have 
marked the North to all eternity as craven 
and mean beyond expression." [Loud 
cheers and some hisses.] 

Equally forcible and felicitous was the 
manner in which Mr. Beecher met his oppo- 
nents on another point. " But I hear," 
said Mr. Beecher, " a loud protest against 
war. [Hear, hear.] Ladies and gentle- 
men, Mr. Chairman : There is a small 
band in our country and in yours — I wish 
their number were quadrupled — who have 
borne a solemn and painful testimony 
against all wars, under all circumstances ; 
and although I differ with them on the 
subject of defensive warfare, j'et when 
men that rebuked their own land, and all 
lands, now rebuke us, though I cannot 
accept their judgment, I bow with pro- 
found respect to their consistency. [Hear, 
hear, and cheers.] But excepting them, 
I regard this British horror of the Ameri- 
can war as something wonderful. [Re- 
newed cheers and laughter.] Why, it is 
a phenomenon in itself ! On what shore 
has not the prow of your ships dashed ? 
[Hear, hear.] What land is there with a 
name and a people where j^our banner 
has not led your soldiers ? [Hear, 
hear.] And when the great resurrection 



reveille shall sound, it will muster British 
soldiers from every clime and people under 
the whole heaven. [Cheers.] Ah, but it 
is said this is a war against your own 
blood. [Hear, hear.] How long is it 
since j'ou poured soldiers into Canada, and 
let all your yards work night and day to 
avenge the taking of two men out of the 
Trent? [Loud applause.] Old England 
shocked at a war of principle ! She gained 
her glories in such a war. [Cheers.] 
Old England ashamed of a war of princi- 
ple ! Her national ensign symbolizes 
her history — the cross in a field of 
blood. [Cheers.] And will you tell us — 
who inherit your blood, your ideas, and 
your pluck [cheers] — that we must not 
fight ? " [Cheers.] 

Exeter Hall, London, was the scene of 
Mr. Beecher's last and, perhaps, greatest 
oratorical effort, in defense of the Ameri- 
can Union — the undivided nationality of 
the American Republic. This speech was 
delivered under the auspices of the Eman- 
cipation Society, October 20th, and the 
meeting was one of the most enthusiastic 
ever held in the English metropolis. The 
admission was by tickets, the lowest 
charge for which was one shilling, and for 
the reserved seats, of which there were 
four hundred, the charge was two shillings 
and sixpence. More than an hour before 
the time for the proceedings to commence, 
the main entrance in the Strand was 
besieged by crowds of persons anxious to 
obtain egress, and, soon after the doers 
were opened, the vast hall was filled to 
suffocation, and thousands were outside 
seeking but unable to obtain admission. 

Outside, the scene was of a most extraor- 
dinary description. The sjseech, as adver- 
tised, was to begin at seven o'clock, and it 
was announced that the doors would be 
opened at half-past six. The crowd, how- 
ever, began to assemble as early as five 
o'clock, and, before six, it became so dense 
and numerous, as completely to block up 
not only the footway but the carriage-way 
of the Strand, and the conmiittee of man- 
agement determined, therefore, to throw 
open the doors at once. The rush that 



840 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



took place was of the most tremendous 
character, and the hall, in every available 
part, became filled to overHowing, in a 
few minutes. But, notwithstanding this, 
no perceptible diminution was made in the 
crowd outside, and, at half-past six, there 
were thousands of well-dressed persons 
struggling to get in, despite the placards 
exhibited, announcing the hall to be 
"«iuite full." 

The policemen and liall-keepers were 
powerless to contend against this immense 
crowd, who ultimately tilled the spacious 
corridors and staircases leading to the hall, 
still leaving a prodigious multitude both 
in the Strand and Burleigh street. At ten 
minutes before seven o'clock, Mr. Scott, 
the city chamberlain, and the chairman of 
the meeting, accompanied by a large bod}- 
of the committee of the Emancipation 
Society, arrived, but were unable to make 
their way through the crowd, and a mes- 
senger was dispatched to the Bow street 
police station, for an extra body of police. 
About thirty of the reserve men were 
ininuMliately sent, and these, aided by the 
men already on duty, at last succeeded in 
forcing a passage for the chairman and his 
friends. Mr. Beecher at this time arrived, 
but was himself unable to gain admit- 
tance to the hall until a quarter of an hour 
after the time appointed for the commence- 
ment of his address. The reverend gen- 
tleman bore his detention in the crowd 
with great good humor, and was received 
with a perfect ovation, the crowd pressing 
forward in all directions to sliake hands 
with him. He was at last fairly carrifd 
into the hall on the shoulders of thepolice- 
men, and the doors of the hall were at 
once closed and guarded by a body of 
police, who distinctly announced that no 
more persons would I)e admitted, whether 
holding tickets or not. This had the effect 
of thinning to some extent the throng out- 
side, but thousands yet remained there, 
eager to seize any chance for admission 
that arose. 

At a quarter-past seven o'clork, a tre- 
mendous burst of cheering from within 
the building, plainly proclaimed that Mr. 



Beecher had made his appearance on the 
platform. The cheering was taken up by 
the outsiders, and re-echoed again and 
again. The bulk of the crowd had now 
congregated in Burleigh street, which was 
completely filled, and loud cries were raised 
for some members of the emancipation 
committee to address them, but the call 
was not responded to. Several impromptu 
speakers, mounted upon the shoulders of 
some workingmen and addressed the peo- 
ple in favor of the policy of the federal 
government, their remarks being received 
w ith loud cheering from the large majority 
of those present. 

One or two speakers raised their voices 
in opposition to the views which had been 
advocated by Mr. Beecher, but they were 
speedily dislodged from their position by 
the mass of the crowd, whose sj-nipathies 
were thus unmistakably exhibited. Every 
burst of cheering that resounded from 
within the hall was taken up and as 
heartily resjionded to by those outside. 
This scene continued without intermission, 
until the close of the meeting. \\'hen 
Mr. Beecher and his friends issued from 
the hall, they were again received with 
loud cheers ; and, a call being made for a 
cheer for Abraham Lincoln, a response 
went up from thousands of voices, like the 
noise of many waters, deep answering unto 
deep. A strong liody of j)olice were sta- 
tioned in the Strand and Burleigh street, 
but no breach of the peace occurred calling 
for their interference. 

In this London speech, Mr. Beecher 
gave a passing resume of his discussions 
of the American question during the last 
few weeks • At Manchester, he attempted 
to give the history of the external polit- 
ical movements for fifty years past, so far 
as was necessary to elucidate the fact that 
the war was only an overt form of the con- 
test between liberty and slavery which had 
been going on politically for half a cen- 
tury. At Glasgow, he undertook to show 
that the condition of work and labor ne- 
cessitated by any jirofitable system of 
slavery was, that it brought labor into 
contempt, affixing to it the badge of deg- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



841 



radation, and that the struggle to ex- 
tend servile labor across the American 
continent interested every free working- 
man on the face of the globe — the southern 
cause being the natural enemy of free 
labor and the laborer all over the world. 
In Edinburgh, he endeavored to sketch 
how, out of separate colonies and states, 
intensely jealous of their individual sover- 
eignty, there grew up a nation, and how 
in that nation of the United States there 
grew uj) two distinct and antagonistic 
systems of development, striving for the 
possession of government and for the con- 
trol of the national policy, in which the 
north gained the control, and that the 
south joined the Union simply and only 
because it believed the government would 
be in the hands of men who would give 
their whole influence against the cause of 
freedom. In Liverpool, lie labored to 
show that slavery was, in the long run, 
hostile to commerce and manufactures all 
the world over, as it was to every other 
interest of human society ; that a slave 
nation must be a poor customer, buying 
the smallest quantity and the poorest 
goods, at the lowest profit, and that the 
interest of every manufacturing nation 
was to promote freedom, intelligence, and 
wealth, among all nations ; and that the 
attempt to cover the fairest portion of the 
earth with a slave population which buys 
nothing, and a degraded white population 
which buys next to nothing, should array 
every political economist, every far-seeing 
manufacturer, against it, as striking at the 
vital interest of the manufacturer, not by 
want of cotton, but by want of customers. 
From beginning to ending, the orator's 
address was a clear, forcible, and thoroughly 
earnest exposition of the principles under- 
lying the great conflict, the course of 
policy that led to it, and the tremendous 
issues at stake in its decision. Many of 
the points specially dwelt upon — such as 
the legal position of slavery in the South 
under the constitution, as a state and not 
a Union question, a matter of local juris- 
diction, with which the national govern- 
ment had nothing to do — were presented 



by Mr. Beecher with such happy illustra- 
tions, accurate logic, and fervent zeal, as to 
render them more broadly intelligible to 
the popular mind than ever they had been 
made before, and showed the orator to be 
not only a practiced and powerful speaker, 
but remarkably skilled in the management 
of large audiences, so that, by a happy 
mixture of sterling sense, good humor, and 
downright earnestness, combined with a 
rare talent for effective retort, he suc- 
ceeded in carrying his entire audience, foes 
as well as friends, along with him. 

As an instance of the speaker's last 
named facultj-, nothing could be more 
apposite than his jslump and dexterous 
retort to an indignation cry from some one 
in the audience about the feting of the 
Russian naval officers at New York, — Mr. 
Beecher's sarcasm at the attentions paid 
by the English to Mr. Mason, the southern 
commissioner, being in his best vein. '-'A 
gentleman asks me," said Mr. Beecher, 
" to say a word about the Russians. 
[Hear, hear.] Well, what about the 
Russians in New York harbor ? [Cheers.] 
The fact is, that t]iat is a little piece of 
coquetrj'. Don't you know that when a 
woman thinks her suitor is not attentive 
enough, she picks out another, and flirts 
with him in her lover's face ? Well, 
New York is in the same way flirting with 
Russia at this moment, but she has her 
eye on Russia, j'ou may depend. [Hear.] 
When I hear men say, this is a piece of 
national folly, which is not becoming in a 
people reputed wise and under the solemn 
circumstances in which America is now 
placed ; when I hear it said, that while 
Russia is actually engaged in treading 
down the liberties of Poland — [Hear, 
hear,] — it is not even decent of a free 
country like the Northern States of Amer- 
ica to make believe to flirt with her 
— [Hear, hear, and " That is true,"] — 
well, I think so too, and now ijou know 
how we felt when you flirted with Mason 
at your Lord Mayoi^s banquet ! " 

Mr. Beecher's justification of the presi- 
dent's proclamation of emancipation, as at 
once a war necessity and a philanthrojjic 



842 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



act, told with admirable effect upon his 
hearers. He said : " The great conflict 
between the north and the south when we 
began this war was, which should control 
the government of the territories — slave 
institutions, or free institutions. That 
was the conflict. It was not emancipation 
or no emancipation — the government had 
no business with the question. The only 
thing the government could join issue on 
was, shall the national jiolicy be free or 
slave. ... It was for this the north 
went to war. It produced emancipation ; 
but she went to war to save national insti- 
tutions, to save territories, to save those 
laws which, if allowed to act through a 
series of years, would infallibly first cir- 
cumscribe, then suffocate, and finally de- 
stroy slavery. This is the reason why 




HR. BEECHEU'S CUUBCH, BROOKLYN, >'£W VURK. 

that truly honest, just, and conscientious 
magistrate, Mr. Lincoln — [the remainder 
of the sentence was lost amid tumultuous 
cheering, the people rising and waving 
their hats]. How did the matter pass to 
a conflict with the south, in place of a 
direct attack upon the institution of 
slavery itself ? Because, in an ill advised 
hour, according to the foreshadowing of the 
wisest men of the south, they mixed the 
national government and national life with 
the institution of slavery, and obliged the 
people and obliged the president, who was 
under oath to defend the constitution and 
the national government, to take their 
choice between the safety- of the life of the 
government itself and slavery. We were 



content to wait the issue, as one of policy, 
but when they threw drown the gauntlet, 
and said that slavery shall be established 
and extended, we could not do any other- 
wise than accept the challenge. [Cheers.] 
The police have no right to interfere with 
you so long as j-ou keep the law, but when 
you violate the law thej' have a right. 
And so in constitutional government, it 
has no right to attack slavery when slavery 
is merely a state institution ; but when 
that state institution comes out of its own 
limits and attacks other states, it becomes 
a national enemy. [Cheers.] But it is 
said the president issued his proclamation 
for political effect, and not from humanity. 
[Hear, hear.] Why, the act of issuing 
the proclamation was political, but the 
disposition to do it was not. [Cheers.] 
Mr. Lincoln is an officer of the state, and 
in the presidential chair has no more right 
to follow his private feelings, than any 
one of your judges has a right to follow his 
private feelings on the bench. A judge is 
bound to administer the law, but when he 
sees that a rigid administration of the law 
goes with purity of justice, with human- 
ity, and with pity, he is all the more glad, 
because his private feelings go with his 
public duties.'' 

But the most striking and important 
parts of Mr. Beeohers address were his 
noble and earnest efforts to jjromote, to the 
utmost of his ability, that supreme inter- 
national ol>ject of his oratorical efforts — a 
good understanding between England and 
America, in which all the higher interests 
of civilization, freedom, and progress, are 
so directly involved. In discussing this 
great and vital question, he rose to a pitch 
of moral enthusiasm and elevation which 
— stranger, as he was, in the midst of liis 
country's reputed enemies, and standing, 
as he did, the .solitary spokesman for that 
country, in the presence of a surging and 
e.\cited multitude — presented a spectacle 
of moral and forensic sublimity, rarely 
witnessed in any country. 

As the sequel of his series of public 
addresses in the various cities of the king- 
dom, this at London completed the dis- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



843 



cussiou of the wliole round of points in 
American affairs which the British found 
it most difficult to understand. That the 
address excited a prodigious degree of 
attention in Great Britain was evident on 
all sides. Its great effectiveness con- 
sisted in its being an American's presents 
ation of the American question, and never 
before did an orator make such triumph- 
ant use of his opportunity. There had 
been symptoms of an attempt to pack the 
meeting — if possible to fill the hall with 
an opposition which should prevent a 
hearing for the speaker, or at least disturb 



him by unmannerly interruptions as at 
Liverpool. To this end, the walls of the 
city were placarded with enormous posters, 
designed to excite ill feeling against Mr. 
Beecher, and hand-bills of a similar char- 
acter were distributed to all who entered 
the hall. But all such effort to disparage 
the speaker with his audience was entirel}' 
overwhelmed, chiefly by the hearty enthu- 
siasm with which he was greeted bj- the 
great majority, while his good nature, fine 
tact, resoluteness, and easy address, quite 
conquered the remaining malcontents and 
reduced them to silence. 



XCVIII. 

ERECTION AND INAUGURATION OF THE GREAT ORGAN 
IN THE BOSTON MUSIC HALL.— 18G3. 



Most Majestic and Perfect Instrament of tlie Kind in America. — Almost Without an Equal in the 
Wliole World. — Height, Sixty Feet; Width, Forty-eight Feet; Deptli, Twenty-four Feet; Weight, 
Seventy Tons ; Cost, §00,000. — Its Vast and Enclianting Harmonies and Wondrous Frame of Arclii- 
tectural Beauty. — The Masterpiece of Musical Art. — Origin of the Enterprise. — Dr. Ui)ham's Grand 
Conception. — Full Powers Conferred Upon Ilim. — Ilis Seven Years' Labor and Care. — America and 
Europe Explored. — A Colossal Instrument Decided On. — Object and Influence of Such. — Contract 
for Its Construction in Germany. — Unrivaled Mechanism of the Work. — Completed, and Shipped 
for Boston — Three Months' Tempestuous Voyage. — Enshrinement of the Organ in a Case. — Its 
Towers, Domes, and Sculptures. — Wind Pipes, Thirty-two Feet Long. — Eighty-nine Full Hegisters. 
— Total Number of Pipes, Five Thousand Four Ilnnilred and Seventy-four. — Capacity of the Organ, 
Si.\ Thousand Voices. — Ease with wliicli it is Performed. — Marvelous Lights and Shades of Tone. — 
First Exposition to the Public. — Enthusiasm and tJoy on the Occasion. — Music, Poetry, Art, Beauty. 



** Loud waB the pcol : fo loud 

At would have ipiitc u'crwhi-lmcd the human eensei 
But Boon it came a gentle, heavenly i-truin. 
Like fioftest note breathed from ^£olittn lute." 




STATUE OK BEETHOVEN, IN BOSTON 



1'jLIGHTFUL and self-gratulatory as were the sensations 
witli wliicli the citizens of the mi'tiopolis of New 
Eiighuid justly contemplated the comiiletion of their 
incomparable Music Hall, the enthusiasm of their satis- 
f;i(tion was intensified to the highest degree when, in 
Niivoiubcr, ISCy, there was added to the attractions of 
that magnificent edifice, and of the city itself as well, 
the mightiest and mo.st superb organ on the American 
continent, and equaled in its vast dimeii.sions and won- 
derful musical capacity by only two or three in the 
whol(> world. 

The acquisition of this great instrument — so iiiuili 
the object of pride and enjoyment on the part of IJo.stou- 
ians, and scarcely less on the part of all lovers of the 
divine art of music, who have come in throngs from every 
part of the Union, to witness its form of beauty and 
listen to its marvelous sounds of enchantment, — is due 
to the large conception of Dr. J. Baxter Upham, for 
many years the acconiiilishcil president of the Music 
Hall Association. From his deep thought, cominvhen- 
sivc ]ilans. severe labor, and constant care, came forth 
this splendid embudinient of musical science and artistic 
construction. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



845 



At an early period in the history of the 
association, (tlie official report of the 
enterprise is here followed,) a committee 
was appointed for the study and investi- 
gation of all matters relating to the fu- 
ture procurement of an appropriate in- 
strument for the hall. After a sufficient 
time spent in understanding the theory 
and philosophy of the subject, the com- 
mittee betook themselves to more practi- 
cal inquiries, by a personal examination 
of the best productions to be found in 
this department of mechanical and artistic 
achievement, in different sections. But 
no one state, or country, or continent, 
could furnish the sum of that knowledge 
which was requisite for the full under- 
standing of the matter, and the bringing 
to pass of that perfection of results at 
which they aimed. In the summer and 
autumn of 1853, the committee extended 
their researches in Great Britain, France, 
Switzerland, and Germany, collecting such 
written works and specimens of mechani- 
cal structure in the niceties of the art, as 
they could obtain in the countries visited. 
On their return, the facts and experiences 
in the art of organ-building thus gained 
were compared, patiently and candidly, 
with the conditions that obtained at home, 
and, without any disparagement of the 
skill and ingenuity of American manufac- 
turers, the committee concluded that the 
vantage ground lay unmistakably in the 
acquisitions which the accumulated experi- 
ence of centuries had given to the handi- 
craft of the old world. 

After the subject had been considered 
and discuissed at various meetings held 
from time to time, a subscription paper 
was directed to be opened, it being pro- 
posed thereby to obtain an organ of the 
first class, one that should rival in power, 
in magnitude, and in excellence, the most 
famous instruments of Europe, — those 
which have for so many years excited the 
wonder and admiration of travelers on 
that continent. "Just such an instru- 
ment," says the official report of the direc- 
tors, "the capacity of our hall allows and 
requires. Without it, its beautiful archi- 



tecture will always be incomplete, and its 
acoustic qualities fail to reach their full 
perfection. Of the influence of such an 
instrument upon the Association, the value 
can hardly be estimated. It would place 
this hall at once, in point of attraction, 
immeasurably above that of any other 
institution of the kind in the land ; and 
every j^ear, and at all seasons of the year, 
we see no reason to doubt, would draw as 
many pilgrims to its shrine as do the 
world-renowned organs at Haarlem, at 
Hamburg, at Ulm, and in the Church of 
St. Nicholas at Freyburg. To the city 
and to New England it would be an object 
of just pride, and to the public would 
prove a source of the purest enjoyment, an 
inculcator of a taste for music in its high- 
est and holiest forms, for many generations 
to come. And in the consideration of a 
matter so important, it seems particularly 
desirable to set our standard of excellence 
high, — to be satisfied with nothing infe- 
rior to the greatest cmd the best, since we 
are providing for a work that shall stand, 
it is to be hoped, not for decades only, but 
for centimes of years." The cost of such 
an instrument was estimated at twenty- 
five thousand dollars, but the total expen- 
diture proved in the end to be only a little 
short of sixty thousand. 

The next step taken by the directors 
was to delegate Doctor Upham, as chair- 
man of the organ committee, to proceed to 
Europe and complete the investigation of 
the subject, make choice of a builder, and 
execute a contract. To this end, that 
eminent gentleman criticallj' examined the 
princiijal organs and organ factories in 
Great Britain, Holland, Belgium, France, 
and Germany ; and, finally, Herr E. Fr. 
Walcker, of Ludwigsburg, in Germany, — 
a name long famous in the annals of organ- 
building throughout the continent of Eu- 
rope, and whose recent colossal structures 
at Stuttgard and in the cathedral at Ulm 
had given to him a world-wide reputation, 
— was selected as the builder. The con- 
tract was a document covering forty pages 
of manuscript. 

An emphatic condition of this contract 



846 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



was tluit the character of the construction 
of the instrument should represent all the 
resources and possibilities of tlie art up to 
the time of its completion, and tliis was 
strictly fulfilled. The brilliant trumpets 
in the swell, for instance, are fashioned 
like orchestral trumpets of brass, and pol- 
ished and burnished with the greatest 
care, although hidden forever from view. 
Its bassoons and oboes are tuned and 
voiced in strictest imitation of the instru- 
ments of their kind. Its traverse flute is 



and the difficulties arising from sudden 
atmospheric changes are almost wholly 
counteracted. The swell organ includes 
within its walls a portion of the pedal, and 
is an instrument complete in itself. 
Added to this is an apparatus attached to 
some of the individual stops, by which to 
effect the increase or diminution of the 
sound at pleasure ; besides all which is the 
grand crescendo and diminuendo to the 
whole work. By means, also, of an exten- 
sive application of the pneumatic lever, 




TUE (iUKAT OaUA^' l^i LlU^jIU^f Mt':JIO UALL. 



of choice wood, in shape like actual flutes, 
turned and varnished, and fitted with em- 
bouchures of brass ; its concert flute, too, 
is of wood, of choicest selection and finest 
grain. So, likewise, with the accessory 
parts of the instrument ; the wind-chests 
are constructed after a new and admirable 
invention of the builder, by which the 
faults that, under the common system of 
sliders, have been for centuries justly com- 
plained of in the best works, are avoided, 



lightness is given to the touch ; and by a 
ciiinbination of ingenious contrivances, the 
will lie resources of the instrument are 
brought within ea.>iy reach and control of 
the player. 

On the completion of the instrument, its 
qualities were tested at the factory, in 
presence of the most competent and criti- 
cal judges that could be found in England 
and on the continent, and pronounced 
incomparable ; and in due time, namely, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



847 



in December, 1862, the great work was 
shipped on board the Dutch brig Presto, 
for Boston, at which place she arrived after 
a tempestuous and perilous winter's voyage 
of three months. 

No slight task presented itself in deter- 
mining what should be the architectural 
form and enshrinement of the instrument, 
and it was only after years of patient effort 
and trial that the present wondrous frame 
of beauty for the noble instrument was 
obtained. The gem of the structure is a 
design by Hammatt Billings. But the 
finally adopted plan, in its artistic and 
elaborate beauty and grandeur, belongs to 
the brothers Gustave and Christian Herter, 
of New York, and the character of the 
work executed by them has justly immor- 
talized their name in this sublime enter- 
prise. 

This great organ has been fitly described 
as being a choir of nearly six thousand 
throats. Its largest wind pipes are thirty- 
two feet in length, and a man can crawl 
through them. Its finest tubes are too 
small for a baby's whistle. The instru- 
ment may fairly be said to consist of five 
distinct organs, or systems of pipes, which 
are capable of being played on alone, or in 
connection with each other. Four of these 
are played upon by manuals or hard key- 
boards and the other by pedals or a foot 
key-board. The lowest of the former con- 
trols the swell organ, the pipes of which, 
as in other instruments, are enclosed in a 
box, — in this case, itself as large as many 
complete organs, — and so arranged that it 
may be open or perfectly tight at the will 
of the performer, thus giving opportunity 
for light and shade in endless variety. 
This organ contains eighteen registers, or 
stops, with which are drawn on or shut off 
an equal number of ranks or series of 
pipes, all of which, or any of them sepa- 
rately or in combination, may be made to 
speak through the swell manual. Next 
above this is placed the kej--board of the 
. ' great organ,' as it is technically called. 
Here there are twenty-five registers, all of 
which connect with pipes on a large scale, 
and are the loudest voiced pipes in the 



whole organ. Here are the grand diapa- 
sons which form the foundation of the 
whole sound superstructure, and the im- 
mense trumpets and clarions which ring 
out like a call to battle. Above the great 
organ manual comes that of the choir 
organ, which has fifteen registers, and is 
in many respects the ' great organ ' on a 
softer scale, but without the harsher reed 
stops. The last and upper manual belongs 
to the solo organ, which also answers for 
the echo organ, containing eleven stops, 
and among them the famous vox humana. 
The pedals are the only remaining key- 
board, and in connection with them are 
twenty distinct stops, fifteen loud and the 
rest soft. The total number of speaking 
stops is eighty-nine, which maj' all be 
combined ; and the grand total of pipes is 
five thousand four hundred and seventy- 
four. The breath to these pipes was at 
first furnished by twelve pairs of bellows, 
moved by water-power derived from the 
city reservoirs, — steam, however, being 
subsequently used for this purpose. 

Not only is this wonderful instrument 
different from others in size and wonder- 
ful variety of stops, but it excels them in 
almost every detail that can be mentioned. 
The dip of the kej's of ordinary organs is 
three-eighths, or at most three-eighths and 
a sixteenth of an inch, while the keys of 
this organ dip no less than five-eighths of 
an inch. But the difficulties which would 
arise from such a vast amount of mechan- 
ism connecting with the keys, asking of 
an organist's finger the strength of a 
blacksmith's arm, are overcome with ease 
by the delicate pneumatic action which is 
provided. The arrangement of the stops 
is controlled to a great extent b}' the feet, 
there being twelve separate pedals for this 
purpose, so that the most beautiful and 
changeful effects can be made without 
removing either hand from the key-board. 
There is also the pedal, already alluded to, 
by which all the stops of the organ may be 
gradually, one by one, or instantaneously, 
drawn on or shut off, thus producing the 
most magnificent crescendo and diminu- 
endo, as well as explosive effects. Thus a 



848 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



tone wliirli i.s scarcely liearil at fir.-;t can lie 
augmented by degrees until it makes the 
air quiver with its thunders, and then 
slowl\' .link again to hushed repose. 

This great instrument is placed upon a 
low platform, the outlines of which are in 
accordance with its own. Whole height 
of the organ, about sixty feet; breadth, 
forty-eight feet; average depth, twenty- 
four feet ; weight, si.\ty to seventy tons. 
The beauty of its exterior is such as to 
call forth the highest enthusiasm of the 
beholder. Doctor Holmes, in an article such 
as, perhaj)s, no other pen could produce, says 
of it : " The structure is of black walnut, 
and is covered with carved statues, busts, 
masks, and figures, in the boldest relief. 
In the center, a richly ornamented arch 
contains the niche for the key-boards and 




OEKIC9 OF UVSIO XKD ABT, 

stops. A colossal mask of a singing 
woman looks from over its summit. The 
pediment above is surmounted bj^ the bust 
of Joliann Sebastian Bach. Behind this 
rises the lofty central division containing 
pipes ; and crowning it is a beautiful sit- 
ting statue of St. Cecilia, holding her lyre. 
On each side of her a griffin sits as a 
guardian. This center is connected by 
harj)-shaped compartments filled with 
pipes, to the two great round towers, one 
on each side, and each containing three 
colossal pipes. These magnificent towers 
come boldly forward into the hall, be- 



ing the most prominent, as they are the 
highest and stateliest part of the facade. 
At the base of each, a gigantic half-carya- 
tid, in the style of the ancient hernifp. but 
finished to the waist, bends beneath the 
superincumbent weight, like Atlas under 
the globe. These figures are of wonderful 
force, the muscular development excessive, 
but in keeping with their superhuman 
task. At each side of the base, two lion- 
hermiE share in the task of the giant. 
Over the base rise the round pillars which 
support the dome, and enclose the three 
great pipes already mentioned. Graceful 
as these look in their positions, half a 
dozen men might creep into one of them 
and be hidden. The three great pipes are 
crowned with a heavily soilptured, ribbed 
round dome ; and this surmounted on each 
side by two cherubs, whose heads almost 
touch the lofty ceiling. This whole por- 
tion of the sculpture is of eminent beauty. 
All the reliefs that run around the lower 
portion of the dome are of singular rich- 
ness. The whole base of the instrument, 
in the intervals of the figures described, 
is also covered with elaborate carvings. 
Groups of musical instruments, standing 
out almost detached from the background, 
occupy the panels. Ancient and modern, 
clustered with careless grace and quaint 
variety, from the violin down to a string 
of sleigh bells, they call up all the echoes 
of forgotten music, such as the thousand- 
tongued organ blends together in one 
grand harmony. As we return to the 
impression produced by the grand facade, 
we are more and more struck with the 
subtle art displayed in its adaptations and 
symbolisms. Never did any structure we 
have looked upon so fully justify Madame 
de Stael's definition of architecture, — 
'frozen music.' The outermost towers, 
their pillars and domes, are all square, 
their outlines thus passing without too 
sudden transition from the shar]) .square 
angles of the vaulted ceiling, and the rec- 
tangular lines of the walls of the hall itself, 
into the more central parts of the instru- 
ment, where a smoother outline of harmony 
is predominant. For in the great towers, 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



849 



which step forward, as it were, to repre- 
sent the meaning of the entire structure, 
the lines are all curved, as if the slight 
discords which give sharpness and variety 
to its less vital portions were all resolved 
as we approach its throhliing heart." 

It devolved upon Doctor Upham, as 
chairman of the committee under whose 
direction the organ was huilt, to make 
formal transfer of the instrument to the 
Music Hall Association, and this hajspy 
ceremony took place on the evening of 
October 31st. At about eight o'clock, 
strains of sweet music were for the first 
time heard from the great instrument, 
which was completely hidden from the 
gaze by a screen of green, extending from 
floor to ceiling. So thoroughly rapt were 
the audience in the rich swelling notes of 
the organ, that they hardly observe<l the 
dimness of the light, which seemed to 
throw a veil of solemnity over the whole 
scene. For nearly twenty minutes the 
audience sat thus ; then the music ceased ; 
the gas-lights flashed forth in all their 
brilliancy, and tlie huge curtain began to 
descend. Not a whisper broke the charmed 
spell. All eyes were riveted on the open- 
ing space. First appeared the little cher- 
ubs that surmount the domes of the main 
towers of the structure, then the domes 
themselves, and the triple columns of great 
pipes, and quickly upon this the full 
breadth of the wondrous instrument, re- 
splendent with its burnished columns and 
golden reliefs, and grand and majestic in 
the symmetry of its massive and beautiful 
architecture, burst upon the view. 

And now the silence was broken by one 
universal cheer, given with genuine enthu- 
siasm. The audience rose to their feet, 
positively enraptured, and cheers upon 
cheers marked the ausjiicious moment. 
The scene, so grandly impressive, was 
worthy an occasion so memorable. After 
three rousing cheers for Doctor Upham, 
and after the tumult of applause had 
subsided, Mr. Morgan, the organist of 
Grace church. New York, was introduced, 
and performed the William Tell overture 
(Rossini), at the conclusion of which he 



retired amid hearty applause. Doctor 
Upham then stepped forward and read the 
report of the seven years' labor of the 
building committee. After this, Mr. Lang 
was introduced and played some beautiful 
light music, giving a choice extract from 
Mendelssohn and a bit of Rink's flute con- 
certo ; to him succeeded Mr. Paine, who 
gave Bach's Toccata in D minor; Mr. 
Thayer, of Worcester, who played a 
Marclie Triumphale, of his own composi- 
tion ; and Mr. Wilcox, who chose several 
selections, nicely adapted for displaying 
the solo stops and ingenious adaptations. 

The public inauguration of this most 
magnificent elaboration of artistic genius 
and beauty was fixed for the evening of 
November 2, 18G3, and the event took 
place at that time, in the presence of an 
audience which, for numbers and distinc- 
tion, has seldom if ever been matched in 
this country, so remarkable for its popular 
gatherings. The programme for the occa- 
sion was prepared with great care, with a 
view to represent, so far as time and oppor- 
tunity admitted, the principal worthy 
schools of organ music ; above all, to reveal 
something of the proper grandeur and 
beauty of the organ in its impersonality. 

The vast hall was crowded to overflow- 
ing, every foot of space being occupied by 
men and women renowned in intellectual, 
scientific, and artistic attainments. The 
exercises of the evening commenced with 
an original ode, written for the occasion 
by Mrs. James T. Fields, and recited hy 
Miss Charlotte Cushman, who paused in 
her route to Rome to assist at this festival. 
Then followed the musical part of the pro- 
gramme, the opening performance being 
appropriatelj' delegated to Herr Friedrich 
Walcker, son of the eminent organ-builder, 
E. Fr. Walcker, of Ludwigsburg, kingdom 
of Wurtemburg. And then followed per- 
formances by Messrs. Paine, Tha3-er, Mor- 
gan, Lang, Tuckerman, and Wilcox, the 
whole concluding with Handel's magnifi- 
cent Hallelujah Chorus. The music ended, 
there was a general flocking of the com- 
pany toward the stage, for a nearer exam- 
ination of the beautiful details of the work. 



850 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



They seemed a crowd of ;Worshipers going 
up to a cathedral ; and the bronze Beetho- 
ven, looking down benignly in the very 
focus of all that architectural beauty, 
seemed like the idol of their homage. All 
mouths were warm in praise of Doctor Up- 
ham, for his original conception of the enter- 
prise, his admirable wisdom in devising 
means for carrying it into execution, — in 
a word, for his intelligent, enthusiastic 
direction and oversight of the work in 
general and in detail, from its beginning 
to its successful completion. I 

It would be impossible to portray the 
effect produced upon the audience by the 
grand harmonies of this majestic instru- 
ment, when thus handled by the masters 
of musical science. SuflSce it to say, that, 
in all that brilliant multitude, composed 
largely of musical performers, critics, and 
connoisseurs, there was no dissenting opin- 
ion in regard to the qualities of the instru- 
ment, all agreeing as to its vast volume of 
tone— so evenly balanced through its en- 
tire compass, so full and rich in every 
part, and supported and sustained by 
the pedale of twenty stops ; all agreeing, 
too, as to the beauty of tone of such 
stops as could be displayed on an occasion 
like this, and as to the perfection of 
the mechanism which permitted a first 
performance marked by no accident and 
no failure. 

One of the most intelligent critics con- 
nected with the New York press, in writ- 
ing an account of this instrument, spoke 
of it as the last best gift of the Old "World 
to the New. "There is nothing on the 
continent comparable with it ; and I should 



hold it not a sin to worship it, — or rather 
worship at its sacred shrine. The case 
has been minutely described, but not ade- 
quately ; it never can be. Seen last night, 
in the mingled gas and electric light, it 
was like a vision. The full scope of the 
design is known only by careful study, and 
the perfection of it is no less wonderful 
than the instrument itself." Another cor- 
respondent of the press of that city wrote, 
in relation to the same point : " As I 
looked at it again and again, during the 
evening, I found new beauties. In the 
softened gas-light and the dazzling glare 
of the electric light, burning on the pol- 
ished pipes, I hardly thought of its being 
real. But on ascending the stage after- 
wards, and standing by the two figures 
which support the two groups of large 
pipes, I saw the majesty of the design. It 
is only by standing close by, that an idea 
of the scope and marvelous creation in it 
can be fully attained; for this facade is a 
creation, — a thing of perfect beauty. In 
itself alone we might behold art enshrined; 
but when there is behind all this, as its 
lord and occasion, a thousand-tongned soul, 
we may be reverently glad at having on 
American soil what is at least, if not the 
largest, as perfect an organ as any in the 
world." Such, indeed, was the involuntary 
and enthusiastic testimony borne by all 
those whose good fortune it was to be 
present on this occasion, and such, too, has 
been the verdict of the great public, who, 
in ceaseless throngs and untold numbers, 
have from that day to the present, made 
the Great Organ the object of their glad 



ilgrimage. 



XCIX. 

COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA, CAPTAIN SEMMES, 
AND THE KEARSARGE, CAPTAIN WINSLOW, 
OFF CHERBOURG.— 1864. 



The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's Engagement, in Sight of the Two Great Maritime Powers of 
Europe — Semmes Throws His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes. — Relative Equality, in 
Size and Armament, of the Two Vessels — Tlie Previous Destructive Career of the Alabama against 
Northern Commerce — Causeless Kaid on Marine Property. — Fault in the Law of Nations. — British 
Origin of the Alabama — Her Unmistakable Character. — Peculiar Model and Equipment — Adapted 
to Destroy, Fight, or Run. — Adroit Shipment of Store.s and Guns. — Ready for a Start. — All Hands 
Mustered Aft.— Semmes Reads Aloud His Commission. — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, etc. — Salute 
Fired : Hoisting the Flag. — A Long Cruise : Terrible Ravages. — Puts in, at Cherbourg, France. — 
The United States Ship Kearsarge on His Track. — Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight. — Preliminary 
Maneuvers of the Ships — Seven Circles Round Each Other. — Semmes's Rapid and Furious Fire. — 
Superior Gunnery of tlio Kearsarge. — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama. — Incidents of this Renowned 
Fight. 



" Sink, burn, and destroy everything which flies the enbign of the co-called United States."— Skumbs's Commission from Jeffekson 
Davis. 



USTICE, reason, aitd law, will oventuallj' unite, in 
all the states of Christendom, in exempting the 
merchant vessels of belligerent nations, engaged in 
the transport of goods on the high seas, not contra- 
band of war, from capture by privateers. Had this 
wise and equitable principle prevailed during the 
four 3'ears of the American Civil Conflict, the 
commerce of the United States would not have been 
swept from the ocean by a few predatory cruisers 
like the Sumter, the Florida, the Georgia, and 
chief of all the Alabama, the latter commanded by 
Captain Raphael Semmes, formerly an officer of 
MEiiCHANT VESSEL uiitNEiMiv THE ALAiiAMA. thc Uultcd Statcs navy, aud a man of acknowledged 
professional abilities. No feature in the devastations which accompanied that sanguin- 
ary conflict appears now, at this remote view of the period when it occurred, more 
causeless and deplorable than this indiscriminate destruction of merchant shipping, the 
hapless crews of which were composed largely of natives of other countries, and there- 
fore in no wise involved in or responsible for the war. 

On this account, the devastations of the Alabama — so famous for its successful career 
as " the scourge of the seas," as well as for the grave complications between England 
and America to which her career subsequently gave rise, and especially for the sum- 




852 



OUR FIKST CENTUKV.— 1776-1876. 



niary doom whicli at last overtook her in 
an engagement witli the United States 
gun-boat Kearsarge, commanded by Capt. 
Jolin A. Winslow, U. S. N., will here 
form the subject of a few pages. The 
engagement which at last sealed her doom, 
took place Sunday forenoon, June 19, 
1864, off Cherbourg, in the English chan- 
nel, in plain sight of the two great mari- 
time powers of Europe. 

Originally known as the "290," this 
vessel was built by Mr. Laird, the eminent 
ship-builder, at Liverpool, or Birkenhead, 
and presented the following peculiarities 
in her make, appointments, and manage- 
ment : Of about twelve hundred tons bur- 
den ; draui^ht some fourteen feet ; engines 
by Laird and Sons, Birkenhead, 1862. She 
was a wooden vessel, propelled by a screw, 
copper bottom, two hundred and ten feet 
length on water-line, rather narrow, painted 
black outside and drab inside ; had a round 
stern, billet head, very little shear, flush 
deck fore and aft ; a bridge forward of the 
smoke-stack carried two large black boats 
on cranes amidships forward of the main 
rigging; two black quarter-boats between 
the main and mizzen masts, one small 
black boat over the stern, on cranes ; the 
spare spars, on a gallows between the 
bridge and foremast, showed above the 
rail. 

In respect to armament, she carried three 
long thirty-two pounders on a side, and 
was pierced for two njore amidships ; had 
a one hundred pound rifled ]iivot gun for- 
ward of the bridge, and a sixty-eight pound 
pivot on the main deck ; also, a pivot bow- 
gun, and a pivot stern chaser. This was 
her armament when she Iiegan her career, 
her guns Ijeing of the well-known Blakely 
pattern, manufactured in Liverpo(jl, in 
1862. 

She was bark-rigged ; had very long, 
bright lower masts, and black mast-heads ; 
yards black, long j'ard-arms, short poles — 
about one to two feet — with small dog- 
vanes on each, and a pendant to the main ; 
studding-sail booms on the fore and main, 
and wire rigging. Carried on her fore- 
mast a square foresail ; large try-sail with 



two reefs, and a bonnet top-sail with two 
reefs, top-gallant sail and royal. On the 
mizzen-mast a very large spanker and a 
short three-cornered gaff tojj-sail ; a fore 
and foretop-mast stay-sail and jib ; no 
sta^'-sail to the main or mizzen mast bent 
or royal yards aloft. On the mainmast a 
large try-sail with two reefs and a bonnet. 
No square main-sail bent, top-sail two 
reefs, top-gallant .sail and roj'al. 

Of her appearance and management at 
sea, she was rated, in respect to sjjeed, at 
thirteen knots under canvas and fifteen 
under steam ; could, get steam in twenty 
minutes, but seldom used it excejit in a 
chase or emergencj'. Had all national 
flags, but usually set the St. George's 
cross on approadiing a vessel. Her com- 
plement of men varied from one hundred 
to considerably' more than that number. 
A man was kept at the mast-head from 
daylight until sunset. Her sails were of 
hemp canvas, made very reaching; the 
tiip-sails had twenty cloths on the head 
and thirty on the foot. The general 
appearance of the hull an<l sails was de- 
cidedly English. She was generally un- 
der two topsails, fore and main try-sails ; 
fore and foretop-mast stay-sails; some- 
times top-gallant sails and jili, but .seldom 
any sails on the mizzen except while in 
charge of a vessel. She was very slow in 
stays; generally wore ship. Being built 
expressly for a privateer, she was adapted, 
in all respects, to destroy, light, or run, 
according as the character of her opponent 
might be. 

She left Birkenhead, towards the end of 
July, ostensibly on a trial trij>, having on 
board a large l)arty of ladies and gentle- 
men. On getting out of the ^Mersey, this 
party was sent back in a tug-boat, and the 
290, as ha<l been jireviously arranged, 
neglected to return to Birkenhead, but 
steamed direct for the island in the Atlan- 
tic where she was to take in her guns, 
ammunition, etc. 

On leaving England, the privateer had 
a crew of ninety-three men, for the most 
part belonging to the English naval re- 
serve, all being trained giinntTs, and the 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



853 



majority old men-of-war's men. She was 
temporarily commanded hy Captain Bul- 
lock, who had under him the proper com- 
plement of commissioned and pett3' officers. 
Captain Bullock having learned that the 
Tuscarora, a United States war vessel, lay 
in wait for him in St. George's channel, 
took his departure by what is known as 
the north channel, thus eluding pursuit ; 
though, even had he been intercepted, the 
Tuscarora would have found herself in a 
dilemma, as the escaped vessel had a set 
of English papers, and other presumptive 
proofs of her neutrality, in the face of 
which, interference might have been diffi- 
cult. At this time, she carried no guns, 
nor any warlike stores, but consisted 




^2^W^.^<2^ 



merely of the hull, spars, and engines, with 
sufficient coal and other requisites to ena- 
ble her to reach her destination, which was 
Tarissa, one of the Azores, or Western 
Islands, belonging to Portugal. This des- 
tination the vessel duly reached, after a 
favorable run of eight days, nothing of any 
moment having occurred to break the usual 
monotony of a sea voyage. 

Some time before her departure from 
the Mersey, a large bark left the Thames, 
— clearing for Demerara, West Indies, — 
to meet the privateer at Tarissa, and there 
transfer to the latter vessel the guns and 
stores destined for her, and which formed 
the cargo of the hark. Some reason re- 
quired to be assigned to the Portuguese 
authorities for the 290 having anchored in 



this way, in their Lay, and .iccordingly the 
excuse furnished them was that her en- 
gines had broken down. This plea was 
accepted as valid, and, during the week 
that intervened betwixt the arrival at 
Tarissa of the privateer and the bark, the 
crew of the former vessel were engaged 
ostensibly in rejsairing her' engines, but 
really in preparing her to receive her guns, 
etc. About the lapse of a week from the 
arrival of the 290, the bark above men- 
tioned sailed in and anchored, her captain 
alleging as a reason to the Portuguese offi- 
cials that his vessel had sprung a leak, 
which would require to be repaired ere she 
could resume her voyage ; and on this 
understanding, the Portuguese at once 
placed her in quarantine, which in 
the Azores lasts three days. 

On the day after the bark's arrival, 
Captain Bullock, being anxious to 
get his guns on board, hauled along- 
side of the bark, and erected a pair 
of large shears to effect the transfer 
of her cargo from the bark's hold to 
the privateer's deck. This brought 
off the Portuguese in a furj', that their 
rides should have been broken by the 
290 having dared to communicate 
with a vessel that had still quarantine 
time to run, and they angrily de- 
manded to know the reason why 
their regulations had been infringed. 
They were told that the bark was in a 
sinking state, and the erection of the 
shears was accounted for by urging the 
necessity of an immediate transfer, tempo- 
rarily, of her cargo, that the leak might 
be reached and stopped ; and Captain Bul- 
lock finally succeeded in bearing down all 
opposition by feigning to get into a pas- 
sion, saying that he was doing no more for 
the bark than any Englishman would do 
for another in distress. The Portuguese 
were content to leave the vessel, and the 
transhipment proceeded without further 
hindrance from those on shore. 

About the afternoon of the second da}', 
and when the transfer was nearly complete, 
the British screw-steamer Bahama came 
in, having on board Captain Semmes and 



8o4 



OUR FIRST CENTUJiY.— 177(;-1870. 



other late officers of the privateer Sumter 
(cut sliort in her career), besides the re- 
nuiiudor of the 290's armament, and an 
addition of twenty or more men to her 
crew. On the Bahama's arrival and an- 
chorafje, on a somewhat similar pretext to 
tliosc given by her two predecessors, the 
Portuguese apparently lost all patience, 
and peremptorily insisted on the instant de- 
parture of all three vessels. The Haiiania 
at once communicated with the 21)0, and 
havfng handed over to the latter everything 
destined for her, got up steam and left, 
followed !)}• the 290, towing the now empty 
bark. 

All three went, not to sea, as they had 
been ordered to <1<), but to Angra Bay — a 
bay in the same island, and only a few 
leagues distant from Tarissa Roads. Here 
tliey reniaineil unmolested until noon of 
the following day, Sundaj', when, for the 
second time, all three vessels were ordered 
out of I'ortuguese waters. All the 290's 
guns being now mounted, and the vessel 
otherwise ready for a cruise, the order was 
obeyed, and all took their departure, the 
bark as before in tow of the 290, which, 
having convoyed her well out to sea, cast 
her off, and, with a favoring breeze, she 
steered for Cardiff, to bring out a further 
supply of coal for the 290"s future use. 

The privateer and the Bahama now 
steamed around the island, and Captain 
Semmes, coming out of his cabin, ordered 
his first lieutenant to muster the crew aft. 
This having been done, and all the officers 
assembled on the poop in their full uni- 
form, namely', the confederate gray frock- 
coat and trousers. Captain Semmes en- 
joined silence, and read his commission as 
post-captain in the confederate navy. It 
was a document duly attested at Rich- 
mond, and bore the signature of '' Jeff 
Davis, President Confederate States of 
America." lie then opened and read his 
sealed orders from Mr. Davis, directing 
him to assume command of the confederate 
sloop-of-war Alabama, hitherto known as 
the 290, in which, having been duly com- 
missioned, he was to hoist the coiifederate 
ensign and pennant, and "sink, Inini, and 



destroy everything which fleio the ensign 
of the so-called Ihiited States of America." 

Captain Semmes then ordered the first 
lieutenant to fire a gun and run up the 
confederate flag and pennant. The gun 
was fired by the second lieutenant, and, 
ere its smoke had cleared away, the stars 
and bars of the southern confederacy were 
floating on the breeze, and the ceremony 
was comjilete, — Semmes declaring the 
vessel, henceforth to be known as the Ala- 
bama, to have been duly commissioned. 

The next step was formally to engage 
the crew to serve and light under the 
southern flag, which having been done, the 
men were addressed by their captain in a 
stirring speech, in the course of which he 
said there were only four vessels in the 
United States navy that were more than a 
match for the Alabama; but, he added, in 
an English-built heart of oak as the Ala- 
bama was, and surrounded as he then saw 
himself by British hearts of oak, he 
wouldn't strike his newly-hoisted flag for 
any one of the four. This elicited a licarty 
burst of applause for Davis, the confeder- 
acy, and Semmes, and, when it had sub- 
sided, the captain said that the Bahama 
was on the point of leaving for England, 
and intimated that if any of his crew 
repented of the step they had taken, they 
were free to return in her. This alterna- 
tive none would accept, and Captain Bul- 
lock and a few of the other oflicers wlio 
hud taken the 2'.l(> fiimi England to the 
Azores linding their occupation gime, 
through the arrival of those who had lii'ld 
similar appointments in the Sumter, hav- 
ing gone on board the Bahama, that vessel 
and the Alabama, amid hearty cheering 
from the crews of both, parted company, 
the former pursuing her course back to 
England, and tlu- latter making chase for 
an American whaler, which she soon cap- 
tured and burned. 

This was the frst prize taken hy 
Semmes, in that long and successful career 
in the South Atlantic and Indian oceans, 
during which he inflicted almost untold 
damage u|)on the merchant marine service 
of the United States, and successfullv 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



855 



eluding the most diligent pursuit and the 
best-laid plans of capture. 

Nor is it possible to conjecture how 
much longer this prosperous career of the 
Alabama would have continued, but for the 
fortuitous circumstance which suddenly 
arose, and which as suddenly terminated 
in her complete destruction. 

Making good her escape from the United 
States naval vessels at the Cape of Good 
Hope and Straits of Sunda, and after com- 
mitting sundry devastations, the Alabama 
returned westward, in June, 1864, and 
took refuge under the gnns of Fort Du 
Romet, off Cherbourg, a French port. At 
the same time, the United States gun-boat 
Kearsarge, Captain Winslow, was Ij'ing at 




Flushing, Holland, when a telegram came 
from Mr. Dayton, the American ambassa- 
dor at Paris, stating that the Alabama was 
at Cherbourg. The Kearsarge immedi- 
ately put to sea, and arrived at Cherbourg 
in quick time, taking the Alabama quite 
by surprise by so sudden an appearance on 
her track. Through the consular agent, a 
sort of challenge was received by Captain 
Winslow from Captain Semmes, the latter 
stating that he would like to measure the 
strength of his vessel with that of the 
Kearsarge, — - that if the latter remained 
off the port he would come out and fight 
her, — and that he would not detain the 
vessel long. 

After cruising off the port for five 



days, until Sund.iy,' June 19th, at about 
half-past ten o'clock, in the forenoon, Cap- 
tain Winslow descried the starry ensign 
of the Alabama floating in the breeze, as 
she came boldly out of the western en- 
trance, accompanied by the French iron- 
clad steamer Couronne and the English 
j'acht Deerhound, the latter having on 
board its owner, Mr. Lancaster — a member 
of the Roj-al Yacht Club — together with 
his wife and family. The Couronne re- 
tired into port, after seeing the combatants 
outside of French waters. Captain Wins- 
low had previousl}' had an interview with 
the admiral of Cherbourg, assuring him 
that, in the event of an action occurring 
with the Alabama, the position of the 
vessels should bo so far off shore that no 
question would be advanced about the line 
of jurisdiction. When the Alabama was 
first descried, the Kearsarge was about 
three miles from the entrance of the har- 
bor, and, to make certain that none of the 
maneuvers of battle took place within the 
French waters, as well as to draw the Ala- 
bama so far off that, if disabled, she could 
not flee in to the shore for protection from 
her French allies or sympathizers, the 
Kearsarge stood to seaward until she had 
attained the distance of about seven miles 
from the shore. 

At ten minuteg before eleven, the Kear- 
sarge came quick about and approached 
the Alaliama. When within about three- 
quarters of a mile, the Alabama opened 
her guns with her starboard broadside. 
The Kearsarge made no reply for some 
minutes, but ranged up nearer, and then 
opened her starboard battery, fighting six 
guns, and leaving only one thirty-two 
pounder idle. The Alabama fought seven 
guns, working them with the greatest 
rapidity, sending shot and shell in a con- 
stant stream over her adversary. Both 
vessels used their starboard batteries, the 
two being maneuvered in a circle about 
each other at a distance of from five hun- 
dred to one thousand j-ards. Seven com- 
plete circles were made during the action, 
which lasted a little over one hour. At 
the last of the action, when the Alabama 



856 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(J-1876. 



would have made off, she was near five 
miles from the shore ; and, had the action 
continued from the first in parallel lines, 
with her head in shore, the line of juris- 
diction would, no doubt, have been reached. 

From the first, the firing of the Ala- 
bama was rapid and wild ; toward the 
close of the action, the firing became bet^ 
tcr. The Kcarsargo gunners, who h.ad 
been cautioned against firing rapidly, with- 
out direct aim, were much more deliberate ; 
and the instructions given to point the 
heavy guns below rather than above the 
water-line, and clear the deck with lighter 
ones, was fully observed. 

Captain Winslow had endeavored, with 
a port helm, to close in with the Alabama; 
but it was not until just before the close 
of the action, that he was in position to 
use grape. This was avoided, however, by 
the Alabama's surrender. The effect of 
the training of the Kearsargo's men was 
evident; nearly every shot from their 
guns told fearfully on the Alabama, and on 
the seventh rotation in the circular track, 
she winded, setting fore-trysail and two 
jibs, with head in shore. Her speed was 
now retarded, and by winding her port 
liroadside was presented to the Kearsarge, 
with only two guns bearing, not having 
been able to shift over but one. Captain 
Winslow now saw that she was at his 
mercy, and a few more guns brought down 
her flag, though it was diflicult to ascer- 
tain whetlier it had been hauled down or 
shot away ; but a white flag having been 
displayed over the stern, the fire of the 
Kearsarge was reserved. 

Two minutes had not more than elapsed 
before the Alabama again (iiuncd fire on 
the Kearsarge, with the two guns on the 
piirt side. This drew Cai)tain AYinsIow's 
fire again, and the Kearsarge was immedi- 
ately steamed ahead and laid across her 
bows for raking. The white flag was still 
flying, and the Kearsarge's fire was again 
reserved. Shortly after this, her boats 
were to be seen lowering, and an ofiicer in 
one of them came alongside and stated that 
the ship had surrendered, and was fast 
sinking. In twenty minutes from this 



time the Alabama went down, her main- 
mast, which had been shot, breaking near 
the liead as she sank, and licr bow rising 
high out of the water, as her stern rapidly 
settled. 

At precisely twentj'-four minutes past 
twelve, twent3- minutes after her furnace 
fires went out, the Alabama being on the 
point of making her final plunge, the word 
went forth for every man to take care of 
himself, which they did by jumping over- 
board, Semmes throwing his sword into the 
ocean and then taking a swim himself, 
making for the Deerhound, which rescued 
him and thirteen other oflicers. None of 
the men who had been killed were left to 
sink ; of the twenty-one wounded, some 
were in the (juarter-boats with the bo3"8, 
and others on board the Kearsarge ; the 
rest of the crew were all afloat, and some 
of them drowning. Every available boat 
of both vessels was now employed in their 
rescue; and besides these, the Deerhound 
and a French pilot-boat shared in this 
humane service. In this way, one hun- 
dred and nineteen were saved, the greater 
number b}' the boats of the Kearsarge. 
Senimcs's three waist-boats had been torn 
to shreds in the fight, and he had left only 
two quarter-boats ; these were filled with 
the wounded and with boys unable to 
swim. 

I'hi' chances of this conflict, estimated 
from the relative strength and speed of 
the two vessels, were nearl}' e(|ually bal- 
anced. Thus, the length over all, of the 
Alabama, was two hundred and twenty 
feet, and of the Kearsarge, two huiidreil 
and fourteen ; the Alabama's length on 
water-line, two huiKhed ami ten feet, and 
of th(! Kearsarge, one hundred and ninety- 
eight ; the Alabama's beam was thirty-two 
feet, being one less than the Kearsarge's ; 
dej)th of the Alabama, .seventeen feet, or 
one more than the Kearsarge; the two 
engines of the Alabama were of three hun- 
dred horse-power eacli, while the horse- 
power of the Kearsarge was four hundred. 
Tonnage of the Alabama, eleven hundred 
and fifty ; of the Kearsarge, one thousand 
and thirty'. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVP^NTS. 



857 



The complete armament of the Alabama 
consisted of one seven-inch Blakely rifle, 
one eight-inch smooth bore sixty-eight 
pounder, and six thirty-two pounders. 
The armament of the Kearsarge consisted 
of two eleven-inch smootli bore guns, one 
thirty-pounder rifle, and four thirty-two 
pounders. lu tlie combat, the Kearsarge 
used but five guns ; the Alabama, seven. 
The Kearsarge had one hundred and si.Kty- 



f rom the Alabama struck these chains, and 
fell harmlessly into the water. The Ala- 
bama, it was estimated, discharged three 
hundred and seventy or more shot and 
shell, but inflicted no serious damage on 
the Kearsarge ; some thirteen or fourteen 
took effect in and about the hull, and six- 
teen or seventeen about the masts and 
rigging. The Kearsarge fired one hun- 
dred and seventy-three projectiles, of 




NAVAL CUXriisr liliTWEEN THE KEARSARGE AND ALABAMA. 



two men, including officers; the Alabama, 
about one hundred and fifty. 

For five days the Alabama had been in 
preparation. She had taken in three hun- 
dred and fifty tons of coal, which brought 
her down in the water. The Kearsarge 
had only one liundred and twenty tons in; 
but, as an offset to this, her sheet-chains 
were stowed outside, stopped up and down, 
as an additional jjrevontive and protection 
to her more empty bunkers. Two shots 



which one alone killed and wounded eight- 
een of the Alabama's men, and disabled 
one of her guns. 

On board the Kearsarge, three men 
were badly wounded, one of them — Wil- 
liam Gowin, of Michigan — mortall}'. 
Though struck quite early in the action, 
by a fragment of a shell, which badly shat- 
tered his leg, near the knee-pan, Gowin 
refused assistance, concealed the extent of 
his injury, and dragged himself from the 



858 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 



after pivot gun to the fore-hatch, unwilling 
to take any one from his station. During 
the progress of the action, he comforted 
his suffering comrades hj- assuring them 
that " Victory is ours ! " Whenever the 
guns' crews cheered at the successful effect 
of their shot, Gowin waved his hat over 
his head and joined in the shout. When 
brought at length to the surgeon, he aj)- 
peared with a smile on his face, though 
suffering acutely from his injury. He 
said, "It is all right, and I am satisfied, 
for we are whipping the Alabama. I wil- 
lingly will lose my leg or life, if it is nec- 
essary." In the hospital, he was calmly 
resigned to his fate, repeating again and 
again his willingness to die, since his ship 
had won a glorious victorj'. 

The following conversation with one of 
the crew of the Alabama, as given in the 
London "Cornhill Magazine," furnishes 
some interesting memorabilia concerning 
this remarkable encounter : 

"But I thought you had been in the 
confederate navy." 

" I was," said Aleck. " I was with 
Semmes everywhere he went. I was in 
the naval brigade and blockade-running, 
and on the Alabama all the while he com- 
manded her." 

" But not when she sank, I suppose." 

" Well, I was, and was picked up with 
him by the Deerhound." 

"It was a pretty sharp fight, wasn't 
it ? " 

" It was that ! " 

" I suppose it was tho eleven-inch shells 
that did her business ? " 

" Oh, no ; we never had any chance. 



We had no gunners to compare with the 
Kearsarge's. Our gunners tired by rou- 
tine, and when they had the gun loaded, 
fired it off blind. They never changed the 
elevation of their guns all through the 
fight, and the Kearsarge was working up 
to us all the while, taking advantage of 
every time she was hid l)y smoke to work 
a little nearer, and then her gunners took 
aim for every shot." 

" Then it isn't true that the Alabama 
tried to board the Kearsarge?" 

"No, sir.' She did her best to get 
away from her from the time the fight 
commenced. We knew well that if we 
got in range of her Dahlgren howitzers 
she would sink us in ten minutes." 

'■ But don't you believe that Semmes 
supjiosed he would whip the Kearsarge 
when he went out to fight her ? " 

"No; he was bullif'd into it, and took 
good care to leave all his valuables on 
shore, and had a life preserver on through 
the fight. I saw him put it on, and I 
thought if it was wise in him it wouldn't 
be foolish in me, and I put on one too. 
When Semmes saw that the ship was 
going down, he told us all to swim who 
could, and was one of the first to jump 
into the water, and we all made for the 
Deerhound. I was a long way ahead of 
Semmes, and, when I came up to the 
Deerhound's boat, they asked me if I was 
Semmes, before they would take me in. I 
said I wasn't, and then tliey asked me 
what I was on the Alabama. Said I, No 
matter what I was on the Alabama, I shall 
be a dead man soon if you don't take me 
in." 



o. 



ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS AT NEW OR- 
LEANS IN 1862, AND AT MOBILE BAY IN 1864 ; AND 
ADMIRAL PORTER'S CROWNING VICTORY 
IN 1865, AT FORT FISHER.— 1864. 



Hi.s Astonishing Feat of Running Past tlie Confederate Batteries — Fierce and Sanguinary Contest 
between tlie Admiral's Flagship, the Hartford, and Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ham, the Ten- 
nessee. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match for the Wluile Union Fleet. — Farragut's 
Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerving Fidelity to the Old 
Flag. — High Trust Committed to Him — .Sailing of His Great Fleet. — Bold .and Successful Plan of 
Battle. — Admiral Porter's Splendid Services. — Forls Jackson jKid St. Pliilip Wrecked. — New Orleans 
Again Under the United States Flag. — Another Theater of Naval Operations. — Forts, Kams, Iron- 
Clads, etc., to Fight — Powerful Build of the Tennessee. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Fidl Speed. — 
Intended Running Down of the Hartford. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers — Une.xpected Feature in 
His Tactics. — Deadly Contact of the Various Craft — Tremendous Cannonade. — The " Glory " and 
Horrors of War. — Stubborn Bravery of the Great Ram. — Crippled at Last: The White Flag. — The 
Stars and Stripes on Her Staff. — Buchanan Yields His Sword. 



"Admiral for admiral— flagship for flagship— I'll fight himi"— FinRAOL-T, ON the Approach or THE Te.vpessee. 




EARS before the breaking out of the civil war between the national govern- 

^^ ment and the Southern states, in the spring of 1861, the name of David G. 

Farragut was one of the most illustrious on the roll of the United States 

Navy, for those sterling qualities, both as a 
man and officer, which command universal 
respect. Having in mind, therefore, his South- 
ern birth, and his presumed sympathy with 
the disunion movement for a Southern confed- 
eracy, he was invited by those representing the 
latter cause to join his fortune to theirs. He 
promptly declined. The effort to change his 
purpose was repeated. He was urged by every 
consideration that it was supposed could influ- 
ence his action, to side with his native south ; 
he still refused. The men who made these 
proposals well knew Farragut. They knew 
him better than his own government then did, 
— knew the lion-like qualities that slumbered 
beneath his modest and habitually retiring 
demeanor, and the achievements of which he 
was capable when the latent powers of the 
man should be roused to active energy. As a 
last effort to win him over, they offered him 
any position which he should be pleased to 
FARn..GtrT's KL..O-SH... • ., AKTFOBD." namc. This merceuarj assaidt upon his loy- 




860 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



alty was more than liis iiaturp rould ondiire, 
and, witli a suilden and sailor-like liiirst of 
indignation, he replied, as he pointed to 
the emblem of the republic, whieli floated 
near him, — 

" Gentlemen, your efforts are useless. 
I tell you I would see every man of j'ou 

, before I would raise my arm against 

that fla- ! "' 

That flag he nobly upheld in more than 
one fierce confliet, during the ensuing 
four j'ears, conferring the brightest and 
widest luster on his country's renown, 
and sharing, with his eminent colleagues, 
Porter, Toote, Du])ont, Gillniore, Golds- 
boroiigh, Bailey, Boggs, AV'orden, Wins- 
low, and others, the honors of a grateful 
country. 

Before presenting the narrative of his 
superb achievements in Mobile harbor, in 
1864, some account of the brilliant and 
terrible operations on the Mississippi, in 
the spring of 1802, will be interesting. 
Knowing the qualifications of Fari'agut, 
the government ])ut him at the head of 
the great naval ex|)edition which, in con- 
junction with General Butler's army, was 
to undertake the capture of New Orleans. 
This task he prosecuted in a manner 
which fully justified the confidence rejjosed 
in his indomitable heroism and splendid 
executive abilities, and the ]>ri/,e obtained 
was one of the richest and most important 
ever ]>res('nted by a victorious chieftain to 
a grateful and admiring country. 

It was on the 17th of April, 18G2, that 
the mortar fleet of Connnodore Porter — 
one of the bravest captains that ever trod 
a man-of-war'.s deck — began the bombard- 
ment of Forts Jackson and St. Philip, 
and, on the 24th, Commodore Farragut, 
with his entire fleet, ran past the forts, 
encountering a fire almost unparalleled in 
severity, a fleet of gun-boats, including 
several iron-clads, fire-rafts, obstructions 
and torpedoes inimmprablc. The mortar 
fleet rained down shells on Fort Jackson, 
to try and keep the men from the guns, 
whilst the steamers of the mortar fleet 
poured in shrapnel upon the water-battery 
commanding the approach, at a short dis- 



tance, kee])ing them comparatively quiet. 
The squadron was formed in three lines to 
pass the forts, the divisions being led, 
respectively, by Farragut, Baile}', and 
Bell. 

Perfect success attended the flag-f)flicer"s 
boldly executed plan of battle. Fort Jack- 
son became a perfect wreck ; everything in 
the shape of a building in and about it 
was burned U]) li^' the mortar shells, and 
over eighteen hundred shells fell in the 
w<u'k proper, tosaj' nothing of those which 
burst over and went around. It was an 
exciting scene when, on tin- morning of 
the 24tb, that signal "to advance'' was 
thrown out from the flag-ship. The Ca- 
yuga led on the cohiiun. They were dis- 
covered at the boom, and a little beyond 
both forts opened fire. AVhen close up 
with St. Philiji, Bailey opened with grape 
and canister, still steering on ; and after 
])assing this line of fire, he encountered 
the "Montgomery flotilla,'' consisting of 
eighteen gun-boats, including the ram Ma- 
nassas, and iron-battery Louisiana. This 
was a moment of anxiety, as no suj)|)orting 
sliij) was in sight. By skillful steering, 
however, their attempts to butt and board 
were avoided, and after forcing three of 
them to surrender, aid came very oppor- 
tunely from the Varuna, Captain Boggs, 
and the Oneida, Ca]itain Lee. 

The Cayuga received most of the first 
fire, but was not severely damaged. On 
her falling back, the flag-ship Hartford 
took her jdace. The latter had only two 
guns — which were placed on the top-gal- 
lant forecastle — that could bear on the 
enemy until within half a mile. The 
Hartford now sheered off, and gave forth 
a most terrible fire. The Pensacola ran 
up after a while, and dealt with the star- 
lioard battery, and in a few minutes the 
Brooklyn ranged up and did gallant 
service. The passing of Forts Jackson 
and St. Philip, Farragut describes as one 
of the most awful sights and events he 
ever witnessed. The smoke was so dense 
that it was only now and then anything 
could be seen but the flash i>f the cannon 
and the fire-ships or rafts, one of which 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



861 



was pushed down upon the Hartford hy 
the ram Manassas. In his effort to avoid 
this, Farragut ran his ship on shore, and 
then the fire-raft was pushed alongside, — 
the ship in a moment being one blaze all 
along the port side, half-way up to the 
main and niizzen tops. But, by adroit 
management, the flames were extinguished, 
and the Hartford backed off and got clear 
of the raft. But all this time she was 
pouring shells into the forts, and they into 
her. At length the fire slackened, the 



then sent on board of her, but she was 
riddled and deserted, and after a while she 
drifted down the stream, full of water, — 
the last of eleven that the union army had 
destroyed. The larger ram, at Fort Jack- 
son, was subsequentl}' blown up. On the 
28th, General Butler landed above Fort 
St. Philip, under the guns of the Missis- 
sippi and the Kineo. 

So desperate was the proposed attempt 
to run past Forts Jackson and St. Philip 
regarded at the time, that some French 




smoke cleared off, and the forts had been 
passed. Here and there was a confeder- 
ate gun-boat on fire, trying to make their 
escape, but they were fired into and rid- 
dled and soon became wrecks. The Mis- 
sissippi and the Manassas made a set at 
each other at full speed, and when they 
were within thirty or forty yards, the ram 
dodged the Mississippi and ran on shore, 
when the latter poured her broadside into 
her, knocked uwa^' her smoke-stack, and 



and English officers, who had been to New 
Orleans and inspected the fortifications, 
pronounced such an undertaking abso- 
lutely insane. Nor were they alone in 
their military opinion of its rashness and 
impossibility. It is related that when 
that brave veteran. Commodore Goldsbor- 
ough, first heard the news of Farragut's 
exploit, — communicated to him by a news- 
paper correspondent who boarded the 
Minnesota at Fortress Monroe, ^\hile on 



8G2 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



his way north witli dispatches, — sonip- 
tliing like the following conversation took 
place : 

"Commodore," said the correspondent, 
" I have the pleasure of informing you 
that Commodore Farragut has run past 
Forts Philip and Jackson with his fleet, 
and taken New Orleans." 

'■ llun past the batteries ? " exclaimed 
Commodore Goldsborough. 

" Yes, .sir." 

" It's not true, sir — it's a lie ! It 
couldn't he done." 

A blunt and sailor-like demand for the 
unconditional surrender of the city was 
made upon Mayor Jlonroe, — a demand 
which, of course, he was in no condition 
to resist ; and it was not long before the 
venerable national flag was floating over 
the cit}' hall, the mint, and the custom- 
house, and, at the same time, all flags 
emblematic of any other sovereignty thiin 
that of the United States were instautlj- 
removed, and never reappeared. 

It was in the early part of August, 
1804, however, that the country was elec- 
trilied bj' that signal achievement by Far- 
ragut, in Mobile Bay, which placed him in 
the very foremost rank among the naval 
heroes of modern times. Guarded at its 
entrance by two imposing fortifications, of 
immense strength, the bay also floated at 
this time a formidable naval fleet, under the 
command of Admiral Buchanan, one of 
the ablest officers in the confederate serv- 
ice. For a long time, Farragut watched 
fyr his opportunity, and it came at last, 
under circumstances the most favorable, 
as the result jiroved, for union success. 

From the official reports, and the vari- 
ous accounts furnished by the reporters 
for the press, the following sket<h of this 
celebrated achievement is prepared. For 
some months, Farragut — now holding the 
rank of Rear-Admiral — had commanded the 
United States blockading fleet off ]\Iobile, 
and it was with some impatience that he 
awaited the means necessary to justify 
him in moving up and attacking the 
defenses of the city. Knowing the disad- 
vantage of attacking iron-cased vessels 



with wooden ones, and that, too, in the 
face and under the guns of heavy fortresses, 
without a co-operating land force, he de- 
ferred the movement until those essential 
helps were provided, though holding him- 
self in readiness to meet, at any time, the 
fleet of Buchanan, should it venture out. 

In the summer, Farragut found himself 
in command of four iron-clads and four- 
teen wooden ships-of-war, aided by a small 
land force under Gen. Gordon Granger. 
On the morning of August 5th, therefore, 
all things being ready, he went up the 
bay, passing between Forts Morgan and 
Gaines, and encountering the formidable 
confederate ram Tennessee, and also the 
gun-boats of the enemy, Selma, Morgan, 
and Gaines. The attacking fleet was 
under way by quarter before six in the 
morning, in the following order: The 
Brooklyn, with the Octorara on her jiort 
side; Hartford, with the ^letacomet ; 
Richmond, with the Port Ro^'al ; Lacka- 
wanna, with the Seminole; Monongahela, 
■with tlu'Tecumseh ; Ossipee, with theltas- 
co ; and the Oneida, with the Galena. On 
the starboard of the fleet was the proper 
jiosition of the monitors or iron-clads. 
The wind was light from the south-west, 
and the sky cloudy, with very little sun. 
Fort Morgan opened upon them at ten 
minutes past seven, and soon after this 
the action became lively. As they steamed 
uj> the main ship channel, there was some 
difficulty ahead, and the Hartford passed 
on ahead of the Brooklyn. At twenty min- 
utes before eight, the Tccumseh was struck 
by a torpedo and sunk, going thmn very 
rapidly, and carrying down with her all 
the officers and crew, with the excel>tion 
of the jiilot and eight or ten men, who 
were saved by a boat sent from the Meta- 
comet. 

The Hartford had passed the forts before 
eight o'clock, and, finding himself raked • 
by the confederate gun-boats, Farragut 
ordered the Metacomct to cast off and go 
in pursuit of them, one of which, the 
Selma, she succeeded in capturing. All 
the vessels had passed the forts by lialf- 
past eight, but the confederate ram 



GREAT A^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



863 



Tennessee was still ajjparently uninjured, 
in the rear of the union vessels. A signal 
was at once made to all the fleet to turn 
again and attack the ram, not only with 
guns, but to run licr down at full speed. 
The Monongahela was the first that struck 
her, but did not succeed in disabling her. 
The Lackawanna also struck her, but inef- 
fectually. The llag-shij) gave her a severe 
shock with her bow, and as she passed 
poured into hor a whole port broadside of 
solid nine-inch shot and thirteen pounds 
of powder, at a distance of not more than 
twelve feet. The iron-clads were closing 
on her, and the Hartford and the rest of 
the fleet were bearing down ujion her, 
when, at ten o'clock, she surrendered. 
The rest of the confederate fleet, namely, 
the Morgan and the Gaines, succeeded in 
getting back under the protection of Fort 
Morgan. This terminated the action of 
the day. Admiral Buchanan was himself 
badly wounded with a compound fracture 
of the leg. 

On the following day, one of the iron- 
clads shelled Fort Gaines, and with such 
effect, that Colonel Anderson, the com- 
mander, sent a communication to Farra- 
gut, offering to surrender. General Gran- 
ger, commanding the military forces, was 
sent for, and the terms of capitulation 
were signed by the respective j)arties on 
board of the Hartford. From this time 
onward, movements were in progress for 
capturing Fort Morgan, and, on the 22d 
of August, at day dawn, a bombardment 
was opened from the shore batteries, the 
monitors and ships inside, and the vessels 
outside the bay. At six o'clock in the 
morning, August 23d, a white flag was 
displayed by the confederates, and, at two 
o'clock in the afternoon, the fort was un- 
conditionally surrendered to the navy and 
army of the United States. Fort Powell 
had been already attacked on the night of 
the fifth, and blown up. 

With what spirit the fierce and sanguin- 
inary conflict between the Tennessee and 
Hartford was carried on, may be judged 
from the fact, that, when it was reported 
to Farragut that the monster was bear- 



ing down upon him, he hastened on deck 
with the remark — 

" He is after me ! let him come on if it 
must be so ; admiral for admiral — flaff- 
shij} for Jiuff-ship — P II fight him! " 

The Tennessee was close at hand, and 
coming with all her speed directly at the 
Hartford, evidently with the intention of 
running her down. Farragut mounted to 
the maintop and surveyed his ground, 
arranging hastily his plan of battle. This 
settled quietly in his own mind, he awaited 
the approach of the monster. Perfect 
quiet prevailed on board the Hartford ; 
not a gun was fired ; no crew was to be 
seen ; her broadside la}- plumplj- exposed 
to the tremendous blow the Tennessee was 
hastening to give. But, suddenly, there 
was a change ! 

When the monster had approached near 
enough to answer the purpose which Far- 
ragut had in view, the helm of the Hart- 
ford was put hard a port, her machinery 
started, she described a segment of a circle, 
and, just as Buchanan had thought to 
strike her squarel}- amidship and cut her 
in two, — as he was capable of doing, — the 
towering lirow of the noble old ship struck 
him a tremendous blow on his port quarter 
forward, that knocked every man aboard 
his craft off his feet. The force of the 
collision checked the headway of lioth ves- 
sels. The blow given by the Hartford 
was a glancing one, and the two vessels 
came up broadside to broadside. At this 
moment, a full broadside from the Hart- 
ford was let go at her antagonist, but it 
was like throwing rubber balls against a 
brick wall, — nine-inch solid shot though 
the}' were, and fired from the muzzles of 
her guns scarcely twelve feet distant. 
Simultaneoush-, Buchanan also discharged 
his broadside of four Brookes's rifles, which 
passed completelj' through the Hartford, 
and expended their force in the water 
bej'ond. 

The Tennessee immediately put on 
steam again, and started to trv her strength 
with some other of the wooden vessels. 
The Brooklyn lay nearest, and for that 
ship she headed. Here she was met with 



864 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



almost precisely the s.inie rece[)tion as 
with the H.irtforil. Instead of Imttiiig 
she received a butt — both vessels cuine 
together, broadside to broadside ; both 
broadsides were discharged, and the ram 
went on her way to try another, and 
another, — and all of them, — but with no 
better success. 

She now started to run back through 
tlie tli-ct, Init Ill-re a new combination 
awaited her. Tlie monitors hud roiiii- up ! 
— the appearance of which seemed for a 
moment to disconcert the monster. From 
the first, ho had shown a wholesome dread 



he signaled to the whole fleet. The little 
monitor Jlanliattan ajipeared directly in 
front of the ram, to heiui him off. The 
rest of the fleet formed a circle about the 
monster, and all commenced i)a3'ing him 
their heaviest compliments. It was a ter- 
rible fire — eveiy ball that struck the union 
vessels did execution, making great holes 
in their sides and reddening their decks 
with blood; but every shot that struck the 
Tennessee glanced away like a rubber ball. 
To meet the exigency at this critical state 
of affairs, Farragut's vessels were put in 
motion, describing a circle about the mon- 




of them, and by skillful maneuvering and 
his greater s]>eed had managi>d to avoi<l 
them. Now they hammered him to the 
utmost of their ability. The three had 
managed each to get a position in a differ- 
ent direction from each other, and which- 
ever way the rum turned he met these 
ugly and invincible foes. At first he was 
shy, and seemed irresolute as to what 
course to pursue, but finally seemed deter- 
mined to get out of the bad scrape by run- 
ning through the fleet back to the friendly 
protection of Fort Morgan. 

Now, tiien, Admiral Farragut's fine 
tactics ilcVfloped thenisch cs, mid which 



ster, the sloops and monitors being directed 
to ram her every time they came around, 
which was done with deadly effect. Each 
vessel cha.sed its leader about, throwing a 
broaflside at the enemy at every oi)portun- 
it_v, and at every chance getting a ball at 
her. 

In this way the phu ky fellow was ter- 
ribly used. Every time one of the sloops 
came on to the 'J'ennessee, the concussion 
was such as to throw the crew of the mon- 
ster off their feet. The frequency with 
which she was thus rammed, and the con- 
tinuous artillery fire that was rained ujion 
her, so demoralized her men, that they 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



865 



are said to have begged to surrender, fear- 
ing, at every new shock, that they would 
be sent to the bottom. The course pur- 
sued by the vessels was cuch that the ram 
was unable to get range upon any of them 
so as to run them down, thus compelling 
the ram to remain passive. Or, if she 
attempted to escape the tormentors, an 
unlooked for enemy would come and strike 
her on the quarter, and throw her out of 
her course. During this melee, the Man- 
hattan got one good shot in directly at the 
ram"s broadside. The huge ball of iron 
struck fairly at the lower angle of the 
heavy casemates and penetrated into the 
inside, spending its force in the effort. 
This was the only shot that ever passed 
through her iron. Against such odds in 
number, such cannonading and punching 
and entanglement, the ram could not con- 
tinue ; and so the formidable craft — her 
smoke-stack shot away, her steering chains 
gone, several of her jjort-shutters so jam- 
med by the shot that they could not be 
opened, and one of them battered to 
fragments, with the Chickasaw boring 
away at her stern, and four other great 
vessels coming at her full speed — finally 
succumbed, after a fight of somewhat more 
than an hour. 

On its being reported to Admiral Far- 
ragut that the Tennessee had duly sur- 
rendered, and that Admiral Buchanan 
was wounded, lie sent a staff officer off to 
receive the confederate admiral's sword. 
Some one asked Farragut if he would not 
go off himself and see Buchanan. The 
former merely replied, " No, sir, he is my 
enemy." Subsequently, when the staff 
officer retiirned, with Buchanan's sword, 
it was represented to the admiral that 
Buchanan had expressed a wish to see 
him. " Well, sir, he shan't see me ! " 
replied the old Salamander. Then, look- 
ing with most concentrated expression of 
countenance upon the bloody decks of his 
ship, he added — 

" I suppose he would be friends ; but 
with these brave men, my comrades, man- 
gled, dying and dead about me, and, 
looking upon the destruction caused 
5.5 



in the fleet, I can only consider him an 
enemy." 

On the staff officer getting on board. 
Admiral Buchanan was found to be severely 
wounded in the leg. He yielded with a 
very bad grace — in fact, it was said that, 
after receiving his wound, he gave orders 
to his next in command to continue the 
fight as long as there was a man left ; and 
then, when he found he could do no more, 
to run the vessel ashore and blow her up. 
But there was no alternative — the ram 
must be surrendered ; and this was done. 
The stars and stripes were hoisted upon 
the staff of the magnificent ram — truly 
one of the most powerful and perfectly 
constructed of her class — greeted, as they 
went up, by the hearty and long-continued 
cheers of the whole fleet. 

Nothing could exceed the devotion of 
Admiral Farragut's men to their com- 
mander. Thus, after the Hartford had 
hauled off from her fierce assault upon the 
Tennessee, and as she was again pointed 
fair for another blow, and thunderingly 
going down upon her to dash into her a 
second time, — suddenh', to the surprise of 
all, the Hartford was herself tremendously 
struck by one of the heaviest union vessels 
which was also coming down upon the con- 
federate monster, and it was thought for a 
brief moment, so fearful was the blow, 
that she must go down. Immediately, 
and high above the din of battle, hoarse, 
anxious voices were heard crying — 

" The admiral! the admiral! save the 
admiral! Get the admiral out of the 
shi]} ! " 

The brave men utterly forgot them- 
selves — thought not a moment of their 
own safety, but only of their glorious old 
admiral. Nothing, certainly, could better 
illustrate the attachment and devotion of 
the whole squadron for their admiral than 
this. When they themselves were in 
imminent peril of death, they only cared 
for him ! Finding the vessel would float, 
notwithstanding the possible serious re- 
sults ultimately, the brave old admiral 
turned to his gallant fleet-captain with the 
order — 



866 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



" Go on with speed ! Ram her again ! " 

Onward the Hartford sped, determined 
to ' do and die,' if need be ; but, just before 
she reached her, tlie white flag of surren- 
der was hoisted above the disconiiited 
Tennessee, and soon all the victory, over 
one of the bravest of foes, was with Far- 
ragut and liis noble men. 

A little incident in this contest may 
also be cited here, as illustrating his high 
personal qualities as a man and officer, — 
exhibiting, too, as it does, one of the 
secrets of his courage and self-command, 
no matter what the stress or pressure of 
circumstani-es around him : 

"Admiral," said one of his officers, the 
night before the battle, " won't you con- 
sent to give Jack a glass of grog in the 
morning — not enough to make him drunk, 
but just enough to make him fight cheer- 
fully?" 

" Well,"' replied the admiral, " I Iiave 
been to sea considerable, and have seen a 
battle or two, but I have never found that 
I wanted rum to enable me to do my 
duty. I will order two cups of good coffee 
to eacli man, at two o'clock, and at eight 
o'clock I will pipe all hands to breakfast 
in Mobile Bay." 

The descriptions of this great naval 
action usually represent Admiral Farra^ 
gut as having tied himself among the rig- 
ging, or at the mast-head, of his ship, and 
there observing the battle and giving his 
directions. Concerning this, he was on a 
subsequent occasion inquired of by one of 
the gentle sex, as follows : 

"Admiral,'' said the lady, "do tell me if 
it was true, as they said, that you were 
lashed to the mast, down at Mobile Bay ? " 

"All ! " said the admiral, good natur- 
edly, "I'll tell you all about that. You 
know that in a fight the smoke of the guns 
lies on the water, and, naturally. I would 
want to see over it, to know what was 
going on. Well, I would jump upon a 
box — so high " (indicating with his 
hand) ; then I would got up a little 
higher ; and by-and-by I got up to where 
they said. I suppose I was two hours get- 
ting as high as that. I had a little rope 



that I lashed around me, just to keep from 
falling, in case I should get hurt. Every 
one, you know, is liable to get Imrt in a 
fight." 

Up to the time of the surrender of Fort 
Morgan, the union loss in all was one .-^liiji 
sunk by a torpedo, one Imrned through 
infraction of orders, and three hundred 
and thirty men killed and wounded, half 
of whom were killed by drowning or tin- 
fire of the enemy. On the other hand, 
the unionists took about fifteen hundred 
prisoners, captured the two best vessels of 
the confederates, forced them to burn the 
gun-boat Gaines, and drove the rest of 
their fleet beyond. Three forts, with 
one hundred guns of heavy caliber, with all 
their material, were unconditionally sur- 
rendered to the victors. The United 
States steamer Oneida suffered more than 
any other vessel. 

The ram Tennessee varied somewhat in 
form from the grim old Merrimac, l>u- 
chanaii's first monster. The Tennessee's 
armor consisted of two .and a half inch 
iron, in bars eight inches wide, crossing 
each other, and bolted down with one and 
three-<juarter inch bolts, making five inches 
of solid iron. This again was backed by 
two feet of solid oak throughout the entire 
portion of the boat above the water-line, 
and extending some feet even below that. 
From her forward casemates forward, in- 
cluding her pilot-house, an additional inch 
of iron was given her, making six inches 
of plating, and an additional foot, making 
three feet of wooden backing, at this part 
of the boat. AVhat may be called her gun- 
room occupied about two-thirds of iier 
length, and was constructed with a tiat 
top, composed of two and a lialf by eight- 
inch iron bars, crossed and bolted together, 
forming a close lattice-work above her 
gunners, and affording ventilation while 
in action. Her port.s, two on either side, 
and one fore and aft, were closed by 
means of iron shutters, which revolved 
upon a pivot in the center of one side, 
and were worked by means of a cog-wheel 
on the inside, in a very simple and expe- 
ditious manner. In all her qualities of 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



867 



construction and equipment, the Tennessee 
was one of the most formidable craft that 
ever floated. 

In close connection with this vast and 
splendid series of achievements, and as 
having a direct bearing upon the victori- 
ous ending of the war by the valor of the 
navy, — in which operations the brave 
Admiral Porter exhibited his distinguish- 
ing characteristics of unquailing courage 
and consummate judgment, and whose 
magnificent services would have long since 
elevated him to the chief magistracy of 
his country, but for the traditionally dis- 
proportionate influence of the army in 
national politics and counsels, — the caj)- 
ture of Fort Fisher, N. C, deserves to be 
here recorded. 

According to the official report, this 
expedition, under the joint command of 
Admiral Porter and General Terry, sailed 
from Fortress Monroe on the morning of 
January C, 1865, arriving in two days 
at the rendezvous off Beaufort, where, 
owing to the difficulties of the weather, it 
lay some ten days, when it got under way, 
reaching its destination that evening. 
Under cover of the fleet, the disembarka- 



tion of the troops was effected without 
loss. An immediate reconnoissance was 
pushed to within about five hundred yards 
of the fort, a small advance work being 
taken possession of and turned into a 
defensive line, against any attempt that 
might be made from the fort. This recon- 
noissance disclosed the fact that the front 
of the work had been seriously injured by 
the navy fire. Not many hours, therefore, 
were allowed to elapse before the fort was 
assaulted, and, after most desperate fight- 
ing, was captured, with its entire garrison 
and armament. Thus was secured, by 
the combined efforts of the navy and 
army, what — in the language of General 
Grant — was one of the most hnlliant and 
important successes of the war. The fed- 
eral loss was one hundred and ten killed 
and five hundred and thirty-six wounded. 
On the 16th and 17th, the enemy, well 
knowing the nerve and prowess of Por- 
ter, abandoned and blew up Fort Caswell, 
and their works on Smith's Island, which 
were at once occupied by the federal 
forces, — thus giving to the latter the 
entire control of the mouth of the Cape 
Fear river. 



CI. 

GKAND MARCH OF THE UNION ARMY, UNDER GEN. 
SHERMAN, THROUGH THE SOUTH.— 1864. 



Generals and Armies Baffled, and States and Cities Conquered, Without a Serious Disaster to the Vic- 
tors. — Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in Any Age or Country. — The Souihern Confederacy 
Virtually Crushed Within the Coils of this Wide-Sweeping, Bold, and Resistless Movement. — The 
Great Closing Act in the Campaign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Commander. — Ilis Great Military Suc- 
cess. — His Own Story. — A Brilliant Campaign Planned. — Brave and Confident Troops. — Atlanta, 
Ga., the First Great Prize. — Destroys that City: Starts for the Coast — Kilpatrick Leads the Cav- 
alry. — Thomas Defends the Border States. — Successful Feints Made by Sherman. — Subsists His 
Men on the Enemy's Country. — Immense Sweep of the Onward Columns. — Savannah's Doom 
Sealed. — Fall of Fort McAllister. — Christmas Gill to the President. — Advance Into South Carolina. — 
The Stars and Stripes in Her Capital. — All Opposition Powerless. — North Carolina's Turn Next. — 
Swamps, Hills, Quagmires, Storms, Floods — Battles Fought: Onward to Raleigh. — Johnston's 
Whole Army Bagged. — Sherman Described Personally. 



'* 1 beg (o Dreeent you, as a Cbrifttmas Kifl, the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty heavy guna, plenty of ammunition, and 
about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton.' —Obmbhal ttiiBBHAN TO FKBBlOBltT LmcOLN. 



A.LIANT, resolute, and liopcful as a .soldier. Gen- 
eral Sherman added to these qualities the wisdom 
and genius of Wiishington 
himself as a coinmantler. His 
jMarch to the Sea has been 
universally pronounced, botli 
in America and Europe, one 
of tlic most hriliiaiit military 
results — esjiecially when con- 
sidered in connection with the 
slight cost of life at which it 
was achieved — presented in 
the long and varied history of 
war. It was, in a word, one of the greatest and most important of modern campaigns, 
conducted with complete success, without any considerable battle. And j'ct it was his 
own native sagacity, more than anything else, which enabled General Sherman to 
plan and execute the vast undertakings which have crowned his name with imperisha- 
ble honor. " I have oftentimes," said General Sherman, in an address at "West Point, 
"been a.sked bj' friends familiar with Xenophon, Hume, and Jomini, in which of these 
books I had learned the secret of leading armies on long and difficult marches, and they 
seemed surprised when I answered that I was not aware that I had been influenced by 




HEAD-qnAKTERS, ATLANTA, OA. 

ill 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



869 



any of them. I told them what I now tell 
you, iu all simplicity and truth, that, when 
I was a young lieutenant of artillery, I had 
often hunted deer in the swamps of the 
Edisto, the Cooper, and the Santee, and had 
seen with my own eyes that they could be 
passed with wagons ; that in the spring of 
1844, I had ridden on horseback from 
Marietta, Ga., to the valley of the Tennes- 
see, and back to Augusta, jiassing in my 
course over the very fields of Altoona, of 
Kenesaw, and Atlanta, where afterward it 
fell to my share to command armies and to 
utilize the knowledge thus casually gained. 
Again, in 1849 and 1850, I was in Cali- 
fornia, and saw arrive across that wild belt 
of two thousand miles of uninhabitable 
country the caravans of emigrants, com- 
posed of men, women, and children, who 
reached their destination in health and 
strength ; and when we used to start on a 
journey of a thousand miles, with a single 
blanket as covering, and a coil of di-ied 
meat and a sack of parched corn meal as 
food ; — with this knowledge fairly acquired 
in actual experience, was there any need 
for me to look back to Alexander the 
Great, to Marlborough, for examples ? " 
But to all this kind of knowledge — useful, 
doubtless, in the highest degree, General 
Sherman added the possession of the most 
commanding military genius. 

It was early in May, 1864, that Genej-al 
Sherman began the brilliant series of his 
campaigns. The first objective point was 
Atlanta. To reach that city, his armies 
had to pass from the northern limit to the 
center of the great state of Georgia, forcing 
their way through mountain defiles and 
across great rivers, overcoming or turning 
formidably intrenched positions defended 
by a strong, well-appointed veteran army, 
commanded by an alert, cautious, and skill- 
ful general. The campaign opened on the 
sixth of May, and on the second of Septem- 
ber the national forces entered Atlanta. 

For some time previously to the opening 
movement, says General Sherman's report, 
the union armies were lying in garrison 
seemingly quiet, from Knoxville to Hunts- 
ville, and the enemy lay behind his rocky- 



faced barrier at Dalton, proud, defiant, 
and exulting. He had had time since 
Christmas to recover from his discomfiture 
at Mission Ridge, with his ranks filled, 
and a new commander-in-chief, and second 
to none in the confederacy in reputation 
for skill, sagacity, and extreme popularity. 
All at once, the union armies assumed life 
and action, and appeared before Dalton. 
Threatening Rocky Face, they threw 
themselves upon Resaca, the enemy only 
escaping by the rapidity of their retreat, 
aided by the numerous roads with which 
they only were familiar. Again the con- 
federate army took post in Altoona, but 
found no rest, for, by a circuit towards 
Dallas and subsequent movement to Ac- 
worth, the union army gained the Al- 
toona Pass. Then followed the eventful 
battles about Kenesaw, and the escape of 
the confederates across the Chattahoochee 
river. The crossing of the Chattahoochee 
and breaking of the Augusta road was 
handsomely executed by Sherman's army. 
It was at this stage of j)roceedings, that the 
confederate authorities became dissatisfied 
with Johnston as commander, and selected 
one more bold and rash, — General Hood. 
New tactics were adopted by the latter. 
He first boldly and rapidly, on the twen- 
tieth of July, fell on the union right, at 
Peach Tree creek, and lost. Again, on 
the 22d, he struck the extreme union left, 
and was severely punished; and finally, 
again on the 28th, he unsuccessfully re- 
peated the attempt on the union right. 
Sherman slowly and gradually drew his 
lines about Atlanta, feeling for the rail- 
road which supplied the confederate army 
and made Atlanta a place of importance. 
The enemy met these efforts patiently and 
skillfully, but at last Hood made the mis- 
take which Sherman had waited for so 
long, sending his cavalry to the union 
rear, far beyond the reach of recall. In- 
stantly Sherman's cavalry was on Hood's 
only remaining road, with the principal 
army following quietly, and Atlanta fell 
into Sherman's possession, as the fruit of 
well-concerted measures, backed by a brave 
and confident army. 



870 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177&-1876. 



Hood's plan was, to force General Sher- 
man from Georgia, by cutting off his com- 
munications, and invading Tennessee and 
Kentucky. Pursuant to this plan, Hood, 
by a rapid march, gained and broke up, at 
Big Shanty, the railroad that supplied 
Sherman's army, advanced to Dalton, and 
thence moved toward Tennessee. Hood 
was followed from Atlanta by Sherman far 
enough north to cover his own purpose and 
assure him against Hood's interrupting 
the march to the sea-coast which he had in 
contemplation. The task of encountering 
Hood's formidable movements, and defend- 
ing the border states from invasion, was 
intrusted to General Thomas, who was 
ably assisted by his second in command. 
General Schofield. 

It appears from Major Nichols's graphic 
diary of the events connected with this 
great march — the narrative of his excel- 
lent observations as one of Sherman's staff 
officers — that the general, from his camp 
at Gaylesville, while awaiting the develop- 
ment of Hood's design, sketched out the 
march to Goldsboro'. Seated in front of 
his tent, towards the end of October, 1864, 
with his generals around him, and the 
map of the states spread on his knees 
Sherman ran his finger over the map, and 
indicated liis course to Savannah. Then, 
after pondering on the map of South Car- 
olina, his finger rested on Columbia, and 
looking up, he sai<l — 

" Howard, I believe we can go there, 
without any serious difficult}'. If we can 
cross the Salkahatchie, we can capture 
Columbia." 

After giving expression to this strik- 
ing strategic insight. General Sherman 
passed his finger quickly over rivers, 
swamps, and cities, to Goldsboro', N. C., 
saying— 

" That point is a few days' march 
through a rich country. When we reach 
that important railway junction — when I 
once plant this army at fioldsboro', — Lee 
must leave Virginia, or he will be defeated 
beyond hope of recovery. We can make 
this march, for General Grant assures me 
that Lee cannot get away from Richmond 



without his knowledge, nor without seri- 
ous loss to his army." 

This prediction, showing at once the 
most remarkable forecast and most com- 
prehensive generalship, was at once put in 
course of fulfillment. 

Atlanta having served its purpose in 
General Sherman's plans — a resting-place 
on his way to Savannah, to Columbia, and 
to Richmond if need be, — it was given up 
to the flames, that its workshops might 
never again be employed in casting shot 
and shell for the confederacy. The rail- 
ways were torn up, the people turned 
away, and torches were applied to the 
stores and magazines. A space of two 
hundred acres was soon on fire, and its 
progress watched until the conflagration 
had spread beyond the power of man to 
arrest its destructive work, and then the 




union forces marched out of the unfortu- 
nate city with solemn tread, their band 
playing the wild anthem, "John Brown's 
soul goes marching on." The army num- 
bered about sixty-five thousand men. 

As the news of Sherman's great move- 
ment became known at the north, intense 
interest was felt in the result, and it may 
well be supposed that not a few were filled 
with the greatest apprchensidns, in view of 
the dangers to be encountered. That the 
president, however, did not share in any 
such feeling of alarm in regard to the 
issue, is sliown by the following couversa- 



GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



871 



tion on the subject, between him and a 
friend. 

Said Mr. Lincoln's friend : " Mr. Lin- 
coln, as Sherman's army advances, the 
rebel forces necessarily concentrate and 
increase in number. Before long, Sher- 
man will drive the columns of Johnston, 
Bragg, Hoke, and others, within a few 
days' march of Lee's main army. May 
not Lee suddenly march south with the 
bulk of his army, form a junction with 
Johnston's troops, and before Grant can 
follow any considerable distance, strike 
Sherman's column with suijerior force, 
break his lines, defeat his armj', and drive 
his broken fragments back to the coast, 
and with his whole army give battle to 
Grant, and perhaps defeat him ? " 

President Lincoln instantly replied : 
"And perhaps not! Napoleon tried the 
same game on the British and Prussians, 
in 1815. He concentrated his forces and 
fell suddenly on Blucher, and won an inde- 
cisive victor}'. He then whirled round and 
attacked the British, and met his Water- 
loo. Bonaparte was hardly inferior to 
Lee in military talents or experience. 
But are you sure that Lee's forces, united 
with Johnston's, could beat Sherman's 
army ? Could he gain his Ligny, before 
meeting with his Waterloo when he at- 
tacks Grant ." I tell you, there is a heap 
of fight in one hundred thousand western 
veterans. They are a good deal like old 
Zach. Taylor at Buena Vista, — they don't 
know when they are whipped!" 

In turning his back upon Atlanta, Gen- 
eral Sherman divided his army for the 
great march into two wings. General 
Howard commanding the right, and Gen- 
eral Slocum the left ; General Kiljjatrick 
handled the cavalry under Sherman's 
orders. The various corps composing the 
wings were led, respectively, by Generals 
Osterhaus, Blair, Davis, and Williams ; 
and Sherman for a time accompanied one 
wing and then the other. 

On the 13th of November, Sherman's 
communications with the north ceased. 
Spreading itself out like a fan, the extreme 
left wing swept down the Augusta road, 



and the extreme right marched towards 
Macon, the space between being covered 
by two corps, one from each wing, and the 
cavalry riding well on the flanks. Mil- 
ledgeville, the capital of Georgia, on the 
Oconee, was the first point of concentra- 
tion for the left wing. The right wing, 
preceded and flanked by cavalry, went 
down the roads towards Macon, sweeping 
away the small opjjosing forces mustered 
by Cobb and Wheeler, and advancing as 
far as Griffin. The left wing went by 
Covington to Madison, and there, sending 
the cavalry towards Augusta, turned south- 
ward by waj' of Eatonton to Milledgeville. 
The right, after maneuvering in the direc- 
tion of Macon, crossed the Ocmulgee aliove 
it, and, passing by Clinton, descended 
upon Gordon, whence a branch line led to 
Milledgeville. 

The movement of troops on so many 
points had confounded the confederates. 
The authorities of Augusta believed their 
town was the object of the march ; those 
of Macon were certain that it was against 
them the enemy was coming. In reality, 
Sherman had turned toward Macon, and 
had cut off at least the infantry force 
there, and rendered it useless. They 
showed fight, however, attacking a small 
union force, pushed up to Griswoldville to 
protect the confederates who were destroy- 
ing the railroad, and were punished se- 
verely for their courage. 

In a week after quitting Atlanta, the 
left wing was united at Milledgeville and 
the right at Gordon, while the cavalry 
were scouring the flanks. In the mean- 
time. General Wheeler had ridden round 
the right flank, and crossing the Oconee, 
had turned to defend the jaassage of the 
swampy stream. But his resistance was 
vain. Slocum moved out from Milledgeville 
upon Sandersville, and Howard marched 
on both sides of the Savannah railway, 
thrusting Wheeler away from the bridge 
over the Oconee, and crossing himself 
without the loss of a man. The left wing 
was now converging on Louisville, while 
the right struck across the country, by 
Swainsboro', upon Millen. It was now 



872 



OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 










■ y^^'M^m^-'&t'r"^ 



GREAT A2^T> MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



873 



plain that the confederates had no troops 
strong enough to interrupt the march, as 
all their efforts had failed to arrest the 
forward movement of the columns. 

In this way, covering a wide front, now 
filing through swamps, now spreading out 
on a broad front under the tufted pines, 
now halting to tear up, twist, and burn 
rails and sleepers, now collecting cattle and 
forage, and everywhere welcomed and fol- 
lowed by the negroes, the army pressed 
forward to its goal. The left flankers came 
down through Sparta, the solid body of the 
left wing marched through Davisboro', the 
right moved steadily forward upon Millen, 
while Kilpatrick was in the front threat- 
ening Waynesboro', and destroying the 
bridges on the way to Augusta. At length 
the whole force, §ave one corps, crossed 
the Ogeechee and united at Millen. 

Here, again, Sherman kept his oppo- 
nents in doubt respecting the course he 
"would pursue. At Millen he threatened 
both Augusta and Savannah, and he made 
such strong demonstrations on the Au- 
gusta road, that he led the confederates to 
fear for Augusta, and so prevented them 
from concentrating their troojjs at Savan- 
nah. Kilpatrick, supported by two infan- 
try brigades, very effectually disposed of 
Wheeler. The army halted two days, and, 
refreshed and united, began on the second 
of December, its final march upon Savan- 
nah. The whole force, save one corps, 
went steadily down the strip of land be- 
tween the Savannah and the Ogeechee, 
while the one corps on the right bank, 
marching in two columns, a day in ad- 
vance of the main body, effectually pre- 
vented the confederates from malcing any 
stand on the main road by constantlN' 
flanking every position, — a sound precau- 
tion, though not needed. 

The correspondents who accompanied 
this grand armj' on its triumphant march, 
have furnished abundant naiu'ative con- 
cerning that brilliant consummation of its 
toils, the capture of Savannah. It was on 
the evening of December 12th, says one of 
these, that General Howard relieved 
Hazen's second division of the fifteenth 



corps, by a part of the Seventeenth, and 
threw it across the Little Ogeechee, 
toward the Great Ogeechee, with the 
view of crossing it to Ossabaw Island, 
and reducing Fort McAllister, which held 
the river and the city. The confederates 
had destroyed King's bridge, across the 
Great Ogeechee, and this had to be re- 
paired ; this was done — one thousand feet 
of bridging — during the night, and, on the 
morning of the 13th, Hazen crossed and 
moved toward the point where Fort McAl- 
lister obstructed the river. Kilpatrick, in 
the meantime, had moved down to St. 
Catherine's sound, opened communication 
with the fleet, and asked permission to 
storm Fort McAllister ; but Sherman 
thought the cavalry unequal to this feat. 

Hazen made his arrangements to storm 
the fort on the afternoon of the 13th, Gen- 
erals Sherman and Howard being at Che- 
roe's rice mill, on the Ogeechee, opposite 
the fort. Sherman was on the roof of the 
mill, surrounded by his staff and signal 
officers, Beckley and Cole, waiting to com- 
municate with Hazen, on the Island. 
While patiently waiting for Hazen's sig- 
nals, Sherman's keen eye detected smoke 
in the horizon, seaward. Up to this time 
he had received no intelligence from the 
fleet. In a moment the countenance of 
the bronzed chieftain lightened up, and he 
exclaimed — 

" Look ! Howard ; there is the gun- 
boat!" 

Time passed on, and the vessel now 
became visible, but no signal from the 
fleet or Hazen. Half an hour passed, and 
the guns of the fort opened simultaneously 
with puffs of smoke that rose a few hun- 
dred yards from the fort, showing that 
Hazen's skirmishers had opened. A mo- 
ment after, Hazen signaled — 

"I have invested the fort, and will 
assault immediatelj'." 

At this moment, Becklej' announced a 
signal from the gun-boat. All eyes now 
turned from the fort to the gun-boat that 
was coming to their assistance with news 
from home. A few messages pass, which 
apprise that Foster and Dahlgren are 



874 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



witliiii speaking distiince. The gun-boat 
now halts and asks — 

" Can we run up ? Is Fort McAllister 



ours 



9 " 



" No," is the reply ; " Hazen is just 
ready to storm it. Can you assist ? " 

" Yes," is the response ; " What will 
you have us do ? " 

But before Sherman can reply to Dalil- 
grcn the thunders of the fort are heard, 
and the low sound of small arms is borne 
a<'ross the three miles of marsh and river. 
Field glasses are opened, and, sitting flat 
upon the roof, the hero of Atlanta gazes 
away off to the fort. " There they go 
grandly — not a waver,'' he remarks. 

Twenty seconds pass, and again he ex- 
claims — 

" See that flag in the advance, Howard ; 
how steadily it moves ; not a man falters. 
* * There they go still ; see the roll of 
musketry. Grand, grand ! " 

Still he strained his eyes, and a moment 
after spoke without looking uj) — 

"That flag still goes forward; there is 
no flinching there." 

A pause for a minute. 

"Look!" he exclaims, "it has halted. 
They waver — no, it's the patapet ! There 
they go again ; now they scale it ; some 
are over. Look ! There's a flag on the 
works ! Another ; another. It's ours. 
The fort's ours ! " 

The glass dropped by his side ; and in 
an instant the joy of the great loader at 
the possession of the river and the open- 
ing of the road to his new base burst forth 
in wor<ls — * 

"As the old darkey remarked, dis chile 
don't sleep dis night ! " — and turning to 
one of his aids, he added, " Have a boat 
for me at ouce ; I must go there ! " — 
pointing to the fort from which half a 
dozen battle-flags floated grandly in tlu! 
sunset. 

But this dramatic scene is thus grajihi- 
cally delineated by another correspondent, 
who brings the narrative down to the cul- 
minating and crowning event. The United 
States revenue cutter Nemaha, Lieutenant 
Warner, General Foster's flag-boat, left 



Hilton Head, on the morning of December 
12th, to go down the coast with General 
Foster and staff, to endeavor to open com- 
munication with General Sherman, going 
through to Fort I'ulaski and thence 
through the marsh to Warsaw Sound, 
looking toward the main canal to discover 
some traces of Sherman's advance. None 
were observed, so Foster proceeded outside, 
and entered Ossabaw Sound, where the 
gun-boat Flag, on Ijlockading duty, was 
communicated with. Lieutenant Fisher 
was here left on board the Flag, to proceed 
with his party up the Ogeechee, and en- 
deavor to signal to Sherman, if he should 
approach the coiist at that point. 

The Nemaha returned to Warsaw, and 
moved up the Wilmington river, anchor- 
ing just out of range of a confederate bat- 
tery. During the night, rockets were 
thrown up by Captain Merrill, chief of the 
signal corps, to announce his presence to 
General Sherman's signal oflScers, but 
elicited no response. 

Lieutenant Fisher was more successful. 
The Flag fired six guns in rapid succes- 
sion, from a heavy gun, as a signal, and 
then Lieutenant Fisher throw up several 
rockets and closely examined the horizon 
over the mainland for the response. At 
about three o'clock on the morning of the 
13th, after a rocket had been di.scharged 
from the Flag, a little stream of light was 
observed to shoot up in the direction of the 
Ogeochoe, and (jiiickly die away. Another 
rocket was immediately sent up from the 
flag-ship, and a second stream of light was 
seen in the same position as the first. It 
then became a question, whether or not 
they were confederate signals to deceive 
the federal officers. 

At about seven o'clock, the navy tug 
Dandelion, acting master Williams, took 
Lieutenant Fisher and his party, and Caj)- 
tain Williamson, of the flag-ship, ami pro- 
ceeded up the Ogeechee, to a point within 
sight of Fort McAllister and the batteries 
on the Little Ogeechee. Here Lieutenant 
Fisher took a small boat and proceeded up 
as far as jrossible without drawing the 
enemy's fire. A careful reconnoissance 



GREAT AND IVEEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



875 



was made of the fort and the surrounding 
woods, from which came the reports of 
musketry, and the attention of the garrison 
seemed to be directed inland entirely. A 
flag, which seemed like that of the Union, 
was seen flying from a house four miles off, 
and on more careful examination the stars 
were plainly visible, and all doubt of the 
character of the flag was at once removed. 
It ivas the fag that had floated over Gen- 
eral Howard's head-quarters at Atlanta, 
and now flamed out on the sea-coast, 
within eight miles of the city of Savan- 
nah. Lieutenant Fisher at once returned 
to the tug, and moved up to an opening 
out of range of Fort McAllister, when, 
from the top of the pilot-house of the Dan- 
delion, the American flag could be dis- 
tinctly seen. A white signal flag was at 
once raised by Lieutenant Fisher, and at 
once a signal flag of like nature was waved, 
and communication opened. Lieutenant 
Fisher signaled — 

"Whoare j'ou?" 

" McClintock, chief signal officer of 
General Howard," was signaled back. 

A message was at once sent to General 
Sherman, tendering all aid from General 
Foster and Admiral Dahlgren. General 
Sherman then signaled that he was invest- 
ing Fort McAllister, and wanted to know 
if the boat could help with her heavy guns. 
Before any reply could be given, Sherman 
had signaled to Hazen, of the fifteenth 
corps, to take the fort immediately. In 
five minutes the rally had been sounded 
by the bugles. One volley of musketry 
was heard, and the next moment the three 
brigade flags of Hazen's troops were 
placed, almost simultaneously, on the par- 
apets of Fort McAllister. The fort was 
captured in twenty minutes after General 
Sherman's order to take it was given. 
Sherman then sent word that he would be 
down that night, and to look out for his 
boat. The tug immediately steamed down 
to Ossabaw Sound, to find General Foster 
or Admiral Dahlgren ; but they not being 
there, dispatches were sent to them at 
Warsaw, announcing General Sherman's 
intended visit, and the tug returned to its 



old position. While approaching the fort 
again a small boat was seen coming down. 
It was hailed with — 

"What boat is that ? " and the welcome 
response came back — 

"Sherman." 

It soon came alongside, and out of the 
little dug-out, paddled by two men, stepped 
General Sherman and General Howard, 
and stood on the deck of the Dandelion. 
The great leader was received with cheer 
after cheer. 

The city of Savannah, strongly fortified, 
and garrisoned by a large force under Gen- 
eral Hardee, was summoned, but surrender 
was refused. Preparations for assault 
were made, and, during the night of De- 
cember 20th, Hardee evacuated the city, 
and, with a large part of his garrison, 
escaped under cover of darkness. The 
union army soon after entered the city, 
and General Sherman thus announced 
to President Lincoln this splendid tri- 
umph : 

" / heg to present you, as a Christmas 
gift, the city of Savannah, with 150 heavy 
guns, and plenty of ammunition, and also 
about 25,000 bales of cotton." 

Waiting at Savannah only long enough 
to refit and recruit, Sherman again began 
a march which, for peril, labor, and results, 
will compare with any ever made by an 
organized army. The floods of the Savan- 
nah, the swamps of the Combaheo and 
Edisto, the high hills and rocks of the 
Santee, the flat quagmires of the Pedee 
and Cape Fear rivers, were all passed in 
mid-winter, with its floods and rains, in 
the face of an accumulating enemy. 

On the morning of February 17th, Gen- 
eral Sherman entered Columbia, the capi- 
tal of South Carolina. In about a month 
from this time, and after fighting battles 
at Averysboro' and Bentonville, he made 
a junction with General Terry's forces at 
Goldsboro', N. C, and from this point 
pushed onward to Ealeigh, where, on the 
26th of April he received the surrender of 
the confederate army under Johnston, — the 
only remaining formiilable confederate 
army in existence at that time east of the 



876 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Mississippi river, — thus virtually crushing 
the southern confederacy. Indeed, it was 
Sherman's intention not to stop short of 
Richmond, and only the great events con- 
summated a short time previously at that 
important point, under Grant's masterly 
geiuTulsliip, rendered this part of the pro- 
gramme unnecessary. 

At this time, the great warrior, as de- 
scribed by his accomplished aid-de-camp. 
Major Nichols, was in person nearly six 
feet in height, with a wiry, muscular, and 
not ungraceful frame. His age only forty- 
seven years, but his face furrowed with 
deep lines, indicating care and profound 
thought. With surprising rapiditj-, how- 
ever, these strong lines disappeared when 
he talked with women and children. His 
eyes dark brown, and sharp and quick in 
expression ; his forehead broad and fair, 
and sloping gently at the top of tlie head, 
the litter being covered with thick and 
light brown hair, closely trimmed ; his 
beard and moustache, of a sandj' hue, 
were also closely cut. Of an iron consti- 
tution, exposure to cold, rain, or burning 
heat, seemed to produce no effect upon his 
powers of endurance and strength. Under 
the most harassing conditions, he exhibited 



no signs of fatigue. When in the field he 
retired early, but at midnight he might be 
found pacing in front of his tent, or sitting 
by the camp-fire smoking his cigar. He 
would fall asleep as easily and as quickly 
as a little child, — by the roadside or ujiou 
wet ground, on the hard floor or when a 
battle stirred the scene ; but the galloping 
of a courier's horse down the road would 
instantly awaken him, as well as a voice 
or uiovement in his tent. As showing his 
thorough military spirit, it is related of 
him, that, before the fall of Atlanta, he 
refused a commission of major-general in 
the regular army, saying, "These positions 
of so much trust and honor should be held 
open until the close of the war. They 
should not be hastily given. Important 
campaigns are in operation. At the end, 
let those who prove their capacity and 
merit be the ones appointed to these high 
honors." The great captain was in a 
short time made lieutenant-general, and, 
subsequently, on the accession of General 
Grant to the presidency, he became CiEX- 
EKAL OF THE Army, — a military rank 
and title conferred only upon three per- 
sons, since the founding of the republic, 
namely, Washingtow, Grant, Sherman. 



CII. 

FALL OF RICHMOND, VA., THE CONFEDERATE 
CAPITAL.— 1865. 



The Entrenched City Closely Encompassed for Months by General Grant's Brave Legions and Walls of 
Steel. — Flight of Jefferson Davis, and Surrender of General Lee's Army. — Overthrow of the Four 
Years' Gigantic Rebellion. — The^gis and Starry Ensigns of the Republic Everywhere Dominant. — 
Transports of Joy Fill the Land.— A Nation's Laurels Crown the Head of the Conqueror of Peace. 
;— Memorable Day in Human Affairs. — Momentous Issues Involved — Heavy Cost of this Triumph. 
— Without it, a Lost Republic. — Unequaled Valor Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions.— 
Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward March of Events. — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — Lee's 
Lines Fatally Broken. — Approach of the Final Crisis — Richmond Evacuated by Night. — Retreat 
of Lee: Vigorous Pursuit. — His Hopeless Resistance to Grant — Their Correspondence and Inter- 
view. — The Two Great Generals Face to Face. — What was Said and Done. — Announcing the Result. 
— Parting of Lee with His Soldiers — President Lincoln's Visit to Richmond — Raising the United 
States Flag at Fort Sumter. — Davis a Prisoner in Fortress Monroe. 



'* I propose to fight it out on this line, if it takes all summer."— General Gbant's Dispatch from tfie Field. 




GEN. GRANT STATING TERMS OF SURRENDER, 



EEXES crossing the Hellespont with his miles of 
troojjs and flotilla, and over which vast concourse, 
he wept, it is said, as it passed in review, was not 
a more memorable illustration of the pomp and 
circumstance of war, than that which was exhibit- 
ed in 1864 and 1865 bj' the Union army under Gen- 
eral Grant, which, like a wall of steel, beleaguer- 
ed the entrenched city of Richmond — the strong- • 
hold of his countrj''s foes, — and brought it, in 
April of the last-named year, to submission and 
surrender ; and with which event, the ho.sts that 
had been gathered by a powerful confederacy for 
the overthrow of the republic, melted awaj' in 
defeat and disaster, the disunion chieftains became 
fugitives, and the long strife of arms ceased 
throughout the nation. This event has been justly 
characterized as far more momentous than any 
other that is likely to happen in our time, and 
which will always make 1865 one of the great 
years of history — putting it, in fact, in the same 
category with the first year of the Christian era, 
the year in which Rome was sacked, in which 



878 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Europe was saved from the Saracens, in 
which Luther began to preach the Reform- 
ation, in which Parliament drew the sword 
against Charles I., and in which the first 
shot was fired in the American Revolu- 
tion; a year, in short, in which events 
marked the commencement of a new and 
important stage in human progress. 

That the foe thus vanquished was not 
an inferior one is shown by the single fact, 
— if by no other — as stated by one of the 
most reliable authorities in such matters, 
that, in the whole history of war, no city 
has been purchased by a conqueror at so 
heavy a price as it cost to take Richmond. 
Napoleon took Berlin, Vienna, and Mos- 
cow, each in a single campaign, and, when 
the scale of fortune turned, the Allies 
entered Paris in two successive years. 
Sebastopol resisted the English and French 
armies for thirteen or fourteen months, 
and four or five battles were fought in the 
hope of raising the siege. For nearly 
four years, Richmond was the principal 
object of siege and attack by the union 
armies, and probably half a million of men 
were at different times employed in at- 
tempting its conquest. After the disas- 
ter at Bull Run had shown the federal 
government the deficiencies of its military' 
organization, General McClellan command- 
ed an army of not far from two hundred 
thousand men on the Potomac, and he land- 
ed more than half the number in the Pe- 
ninsula, while his colleagues defended the 
approaches of Washington. The losses of 
the union army in the disastrous campaign 
of theChickahominj-, and in the subsequent 
defeat of General Pope, were variously 
estimated from fifty thousand all the way 
lip to one hundred thousand men. Burn- 
side's loss, in his attack upon the heights 
of Fredericksburg, was not far from fifteen 
thousand men, and about the same result 
attended the struggle l>etween Generals 
Lee and Hooker, in 1863. The magnifi- 
cent union victory at Gettysburg, involv- 
ing so great a loss of life, was included in 
the same campaign. It was not till the 
early summer of 1864, that Gener.il Grant 
commenced his final advance upon Rich- 



mond, and the battles which ensued in the 
Shenandoah and in the neighborhood of 
Petersburg, added largely to the record of 
bloodshed. Great and most precious, how- 
ever, as was the cost of final victory to the 
union army, its final defeat instead would 
have been at the cost of the existence of 
the Republic ! 

The splendid military conceptions of 
General Sherman, and their perfect execu- 
tion, had much to do with hastening the 
downfall of Richmond and the collapse of 
the southern coufederacj', nor can the brave 
and effective movement of General Sheri- 
dan in the same relation be too highly 
eulogized by his countrymen. Of the lat- 
ter general's services, at this most excit- 
ing and momentous crisis. General Grant 
says : " During the 30th, (March, 1865,) 
Sheridan advanced from Dinwiddie Court- 
House towards Five Forks, where he found 
the enemy in force. General Warren 
advanced and extended his line across the 
Boydton plank road to near the AVhite 
Oak road, with a view of getting across 
the latter ; but finding the enemy strong 
in his front, and extending beyond hisleft, 
was directed to hold on where he was and 
fortify. General Humphreys drove the 
enemy from liis front into his main line on 
the Hatcher, near Burgess's mills. Gen- 
erals Ord, Wright, and Parke, made exam- 
inations in their fronts to determine the 
feasibility of an assault on the enemy's 
lines. The two latter reported favorably. 
The enemy confronting us, as he did, at 
every point from Richmond to our extreme 
left, I conceived his lines nmst be weakly 
held, and could be penetrated if my esti- 
mate of his forces was correct. I deter- 
mined, therefore, to extend my line no 
further, but to re-enforce General Sheri- 
dan with a corps of infantry, and thus ena- 
ble him to cut loose and turn the enemy's 
right flank, and with the other corps as- 
sault the enemy's lines." 

With what soldierly gallantry Sheridan 
and his colleagues fulfilled the parts as- 
signed them by their superior, is thus 
related by the latter. " On the morning 
of the 31st, General Warren reported fa- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



879 



vorably to getting possession of tlie White 
Oak road, and was directed to do so. To 
accomplish this, he moved with one divis- 
ion, instead of his whole corps, which was 
attacked by the enemy in sujjerior force 
and driven back on the second division 
before it had time to form, and it, in turn, 
forced back upon the third division, 
when the enemy was checked. A divis- 
ion of the second corps was immedi- 
ately sent to his support, the enemy driven 
back with heavy loss, and possession of 
the White Oak road gained. Sheridan 
advanced, and with a portion of his cavalry 
got possession of the Five Forks, but the 
enemy, after the affair with the fifth corps, 
re-enforced the rebel cavalry, defending 
that point with infantrv, and forced him 
back towards Dinwiddie Court-House. 
Here General Sheridan displayed great 
generalshij). Instead of retreating with 
his whole command on the main army, to 
tell the story of superior forces encount- 
ered, he deployed his cavalry on foot, leav- 
ing only mounted men enough to take 
charge of the horses. This compelled the 
enemy to deploy over a vast extent of 
woods and broken countrj-, and made his 
progress slow. At this juncture, he dis- 
patched to me what had taken place, and 
that he was dropping back slowly on Din- 
widdie Court-House." Never was the trib- 
ute of praise more worthily bestowed, 
than this by the greatest of American 
heroes upon General Sheridan. 

But still more important events were 
hastening. "On the morning of the 1st 
of April," says General Grant, " General 
Sheridan, re-enforced by General Warren, 
drove the enemy back on Five Forks, 
where, late in the evening, he assaulted 
and carried his strongly fortified position, 
capturing all his artillery, and between 
five and six thousand prisoners. About 
the close of this battle. Brevet Major- 
General Charles Griffin relieved Major- 
General Warren, in command of the fifth 
corps. The report of this reached me after 
nightfall. Some apprehensions filled my 
mind lest the enemy might desert his lines 
during the night, and by falling upon 



General Sheridan before assistance could 
reach him, drive him from his position 
and open the way for retreat. To guard 
against this. General Miles's division of 
Humjjhrey's corps was sent to re-enforce 
him, and a bombardment was commenced 
and kept up until four o'clock in the morn- 
ing, April 2d, when an assault was ordered 
on the enemy's lines. General Wright 
penetrated the lines with his whole corps, 
sweeping everything before him and to 
the left towards Hatcher's Run, capturing 
many guns and several thousand prisoners. 
He was closely followed by two divisions 
of General Ord's command, until he met 
the other division of General Ord's that 
had succeeded in forcing the enemy's lines 
near Hatcher's Run. Generals Wright 
and Ord immediately swung to the right, 
and closed all of the enemy on that side of 
them in Petersburg, while General Hum- 
phrej-s pushed forward with two divisions 
and joined General Wright on the left. 
General Parke succeeded in carrying the 
enemy's main line, capturing guns and 
prisoners, but was unable to carry his 
inner line. General Sheridan being advised 
of the condition of affairs, returned Gen- 
eral Miles to his proper command. On 
reaching the enemy's lines immediately^ 
surrounding Petersburg, a portion of Gen- 
eral Gibbon's corps, by a most gallant 
charge, captured two strong, enclosed works 
— the most salient and commanding south 
of Petersburg — thus materially shortening 
the line of investment necessary for tak- 
ing in the city. The enemy south of 
Hatcher's Run retreated westward to 
Sutherland's station, where they were 
overtaken by Miles's division. A severe 
engagement ensued and lasted until both 
his right and left flanks were threatened 
by the approach of General Sheridan, who 
was moving from Ford's station towards 
Petersburg, and a division sent by Gen- 
eral Meade from the front of Petersburg, 
when he broke in the utmost confusion, 
leaving in our hands his guns and many 
prisoners. This force retreated hy the 
main road along the Appomattox river. 
During the night of the second, the enemy 



880 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



881 



evacuated Petersburg and Richmond, and 
retreated toward Danville. On the morn- 
ing of the 3d, pursuit was commenced. 
General Sheridan pushed 'for the Danville 
road, keeping near the Appomattox, fol- 
lowed by General Meade with the second 
and sixth corps, while General Ord moved 
for Burkesville along the South Side road, 
the ninth corps stretched along that road 
behind him," — these combined movements 
being made with such rapidity and effec- 
tiveness, that Lee's army could have no 
expectation of escape founded upon any 
reasonable probability. 

By the night of Tuesday, April 4th, 
Sheridan and the fifth corps had, by a 
march of thirty-six miles, gained a position 
west of Lee, near Jettersville, on the road 
to Burkesville. This movement resulted 
the next day in the capture of a train of 
three hundred wagons, with five cannon 
and a thousand prisoners. On Wednes- 
day, Grant, with the twenty-fourth corps, 
had reached Nottoway Court-House, and 
there learned by a dispatch from Sheridan 
that Lee had been intercepted. On Thurs- 
day, Grant had brought his army up to 
Sheridan's support, and with the second, 
fifth, and sixth corps, lay in line of battle 
at Burke's Station, facing to the north 
and east, and cutting Lee off from Dan- 
ville. Lee then tried to move on toward 
Lynchburg, by taking a circuitous route 
by way of Deatonsville, toward the Appo- 
mattox, which he hoped to cross, and, with 
the river between him and Grant, secure 
his retreat. Lee was compelled to fight 
at Deaton.sville, where he was defeated, 
his loss amounting to thirteen thousand 
prisoners, including Lieutenant-General 
Ewell and Major-Generals Custis Lee, 
Kershaw, Corse, DeBarry, Anderson, Hun- 
ton, and Barton. Fourteen cannon were 
also taken, and several hundred wagons. 

On Friday, April 7th, Grant wrote briefly 
to Lee, asking him to surrender " that 
portion of the Confederate States army 
known as the Army of Northern Virginia." 
He said : " The result of last week must 
convince you of the hopelessness of further 
resistance on the part of the army of 
56 



Northern Virginia in this struggle." Lee 
replied the same daj^, saying that though 
he was not entirely of Grant's opin- 
ion as to the hopelessness of further 
resistance, he reciprocated the desire to 
avoid useless effusion of blood, and asked 
upon what terms Grant would accept the 
surrender. On tlie 8th, Grant again wrote, 
declaring that he should insist upon but 
one condition, namely : " That the men 
surrendered shall be disqualified for taking 
up arms again against the government of the 
United States until properly exchanged." 
To this, Lee rejilied that he did not think 
the emergency had arisen to call for the 
surrender, but desired an interview at ten 
o'clock the next day, on the old stage 
road to Richmond, in respect to the restor- 
ation of peace. On the ninth. Grant 
wrote that he had no authority to grant 
such an interview. He said : " The 
terms upon which peace can be had are 
well understood. By the South laying 
down their arms they will hasten that 
most desirable event, save thousands of 
human lives and hundreds of millions of 
jjroperty not yet destroyed." 

In taking the ground that he did in this 
correspondence. Grant acted expressly 
in accordance with the views entertained 
by his superiors at Washington. It ap- 
pears that among the dispatches which 
Grant had sent to the president, about 
this time, was one in which he spoke of an 
application to be made by Lee for an 
interview to negotiate about peace. Mr. 
Lincoln intimated pretty clearly an inten- 
tion to permit extremely favorable terms, 
and to let his general-in-chief settle them ; 
and this even to an extent that overpow- 
ered the reticent habits of his secretary of 
war, who, after restraining himself as long 
as he could, broke out sternly, saying — 

" Mr. President, to-morrow is inaugura- 
tion day. If j'ou are not to be the presi- 
dent of an obedient and united people, you 
had better not be inaugurated. Your 
work is already done, if any other author- 
ity than yours is for one moment to be 
recognized, or any terms made that do not 
signify that you are the supreme head of 



882 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the nation. If generals in the field are 
to negotiate peace, or any other chief 
magistrate is to be acknowledged on the 
continent, then j'ou are not needed, and 
you had better not take the oath of oflBce." 

" Stanton," said the president — his 
whole tone changing, "you are right. Let 
me liave a pen." 

Mr. Lincoln sat down at the table and 
wrote as follows : 

" The President directs me to say to 
you that he wishes you to have no confer- 
ence with General Lee, unless it be for 
the capitulation of Lee's army, or on some 
minor or purely military matter. He 
instructs me to saj' that you are not to 
decide, discuss, or confer on any political 
question ; such questions the president 
holds in his own hands, and will submit 
them to no military conferences or conven- 
tions. In the meantime, you are to press 
to the utmost your military advantages." 

The president now read over what he 
had written, and then said — 

" Now, Stanton, date and sign this paper, 
and send it to Grant. We'll see about 
this peace business." 

Grant's note declining an^- interview to 
consider terms of peace was received 
by Loe on the spot which he had ilcsig- 
nated for the meeting. On receipt of this, 
Lee at once dispatched another note, 
requesting a jjcrsonal interview for the 
object named in Grant's previous commun- 
ication — the surrender of Lee's army. A 
flag of truce proceeded to Appomattox 
Court-House shortly after noon, and at 
about two o'clock the two generals met at 
the house of Mr. W. McLean. General 
Lee was attended by General Marshall, his 
adjutant-general ; General Grant, by Colo- 
nel Parker, one of his chief aids-do-t-amp. 
General Grant arrived about fifteen min- 
utes later than General Loe, and entered 
tile parlor where the latter was awaiting 
him. 

The two generals greeted each other 
with dignified courtesy, and after a few 
moments conversation, proceeded tn tin- 
I'Usiness before them. Lee immediately 
alluded to the conditions named by General 



Grant for the surrender, characterized 
them as exceedingly lenient, and said he 
would gladly- leave all the details to Gen- 
eral Grant's own discretion. Of this inter- 
view, General Grant himself gave the 
following interesting account to some 
friends, at a private dinner-party in "Wash- 
ington : 

" I felt some embarrassment in the pros- 
pect of meeting General Lee. I had not 
seen him since he was General Scott's 
chief-of-sta£f in Mexico; and in addition to 
the respect I entertained for him, the 
duty which I had to perform was a dis- 
agreeable one, and I wished to get through 
it as soon as possible. When I reached 
Appomattox Court-House, I had ridden 
that morning thirtj'-seven miles. I was 
in my campaign clothes, covered with dust 
and mud ; I had no sword ; I was not even 
well mounted, for I rode (turning to Gen- 
eral Ingals, who was present,) one of 
Ingals's horses. I found General Lee in a 
fresh suit of confederate gray, with all the 
insignia of his rank, and at his side the 
splendid dress-sword which had been given 
him by the state of Virginia. We shook 
hands. He was exceedingly courteous in 
his address, and we seated ourselves at a 
deal table in Mr. McLean's front room. 
We talked of two of the conditions of sur- 
render, which had been left open b^' our 
j)revious correspondence, cne of which re- 
lated to the ceremonies which were to be 
observed on the occasion ; and when I dis- 
claimed any desire to have any j)arade, 
but said I should be contented with the 
delivery of arms to my officers, and with 
the proper signature and authentication of 
paroles, he seemed to be greatly jileased. 
When I yielded the other point, that the 
officers should retain their side arms and 
j)rivate baggage and horses, his emotions 
of satisfaction were plainly visible. We 
soon reduced the terms to writing. We 
parted with the same courtesies with which 
we had met. It seemed to me that Gen- 
eral Lee evinced a feeling of satisfaction 
and relief when the business was finished. 
1 immediately mounted Ingals's horse, re- 
turned to General Sheridan's head-quarters. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



883 



and did not again present myself to the 
confederate commander." 

The house in which this most memora- 
ble interview took place was a comfortable 
and well-built double brick house, with a 
small green lawn in front. The occupant, 
Mr. McLean, lived in 1861 at Bull Run, 
and owned the farm on which the first 
and famous Bull Run battle was fought. 
It was in consequence of the distvirbed 
state of the country and the annoyances 
to which he was subjected, that he aban- 
doned his place, and took refuge in the 
distant town of Appomattox. Here he 
purchased some land and settled quietly 
down, as he thought, beyond the tide of 
war. But fate followed him ; for, about 
four years after he left the Bull Run farm, 
the southern army was surrounded at 
Appomattox, and the last battle as well as 
the first was fought on his farm ! The 
large marble-topped center table, on which 
the two generals signed the minutes, was 
of a somewhat antiquated stjde, and was 
afterwards purchased by General Ord for 
fifty dollars. General Custer purchased 
the other table, of small size, on which the 
documents were prepared, for twentj--five 
dollars. 

After the interview, General Lee re- 
turned to his own camp, about half a mile 
distant, where his leading officers were 
assembled, awaiting his return. He an- 
nounced the result and the terms, where- 
upon they expressed great satisfaction at 
the liberal conditions. They then ap- 
proached him in order of rank, shook 
hands, and assured him of their approval 
of his course, and their regret at parting. 
The fact of surrender and the easy terms 
were then announced to the troops, and 
when General Lee appeared among them 
he was loudly cheered. 

Immediately after the evacuation of 
Richmond, General Weitzel, with the 
second brigade of the third division of the 
twentj'-fourth army corps, entered the city 
and took possession, hoisting the United 
States flag at every prominent point, and 
on the next day President Lincoln visited 
the fallen capital. His appearance was 



greeted with tumultuous cheering, though 
he came with no pomp of attendance or 
surroundings, and totally unheralded. He 
arrived in a United States war vessel, 
early in the afternoon, at the landing 
called the Rocketts, about a mile below 
the city, and thence, accompanied bj"^ his 
young son and Admiral Porter, went to 
the city in a boat. Mr. C. C. Cofiin, 
( " Carleton,") the accomplished corre- 
spondent of the Boston Journal, in giving 
an account of this presidential visit, says 
that somehow the negroes on the bank of 
the river ascertained that the tall man 
wearing a black hat was President Lin- 
coln. There was a sudden shout. An 
officer who had just picked up fifty negroes 
to do work on the dock, found himself 
alone. They left work, and crowded 
around the president. As he approached, 
I said to a colored woman, — 

" There is the man who made you free." 

" What, massa ? " 

" That is President Lincoln." 

" Dat President Linkum ?" 

" Yes." 

She gazed at him a moment, clapped 
her hands, and jumped straight up and 
down, shouting " Glory, glory, glory !" till 
her voice was lost in the universal 
cheer. 

There was no carriage near, so the presi- 
dent, leading his son, walked three-quarters 
of a mile up to General Weitzel's head- 
quarters — Jefferson Davis's presidential 
mansion. A colored man acted as guide. 
Six sailors, wearing their round blue caps 
and short jackets and bagging pants, with 
navy carbines, were the advance guard. 
Then came the president and Admiral 
Porter, flanked by the officers accompany- 
ing him, and the correspondent of the 
Boston Journal, then six more sailors with 
carbines, — amid a surging mass of men, 
women, and children, black, white, and 
yellow, running, shouting, and dancing, 
swinging their caps, bonnets and hand- 
kerchiefs. The soldiers saw him and 
swelled the crowd, cheering in wild enthu- 
siasm. All could see him, he was so tall, 
so conspicuous. 



884 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



One colored woman, standing in a door- 
way, as the president jiassed along the 
sidewalk, shouted, " Thank you, dear 
Jesus, for this ! thank you, Jesus ! " 
Another, standing by her side, was uliip- 
ping her hands and shouting, " Bless de 
Lord ! " A colored woman snatched her 
bonnet from her head, whirled it in tlie 
air, and screamed with all her might, 
" God bless j-o\i, Massa Linkum ! " 

President Lincoln walked in silence, 
acknowledging the salutes of officers and 
soldiers, and of the citizens, black ami 
white. It was the man of the people 
among the people. It was the great de- 
liverer among the delivered. General 
Shepley met the president in the street, 
and escorted him to General Weitzel's 
quarters. Major Stevens, hearing that 
the president was on his way, suddenly 
summoned a detachment of Massachusetts 
cavalry, and cleared the way. After a 
tedious walk, the mansion of Mr. Davis 
was reached. The immense crowd swept 
round the corner of the street and packed 
the space in front. General Weitzel 
received the president at the door. Cheer 
upon cheer went up from the excited mul- 
titude, two-thirds of whom were colored. 
The officers who had assembled were 
presented to the president in the reception 
room, and tlien citizens innumerable paid 
him their respects; after which the presi- 
dent took a ride through the citj', accom- 
panied by Ailniiial Porter, Generals Shep- 
ley and Weitzel, and others. 

All this took place only a few hours 
after the flight of Davis. Early in the 
forenoon of that eventful Sunday, Lee tel- 
egraphed to his chief, that his lines had 
been broken in three places and that Rich- 
mond must be evacuated in the evening. 
This message was delivered to Davis at 
eleven o'clock, while ho was in church. 
Ho immediately left, and, arranging his 
affairs as well as time would permit, pro- 
ceeded with liis cabinet to Danville. Pol- 
lard, the historian of the soutliern cause, 
states that the rumor was caught u]i in 
the streets that Ridimond was to be evac- 
uated, and was soon carried to the ends 



of the city. Men, women, and children, 
rushed from the churclies, passing from 
lip to lip news of the impending fall. It 
was late in the afternoon when the signs 
of evacuation became apparent to the in- 
credulous. Wagons on the streets were 
being hastily loaded at the departments 
with boxes, trunks, etc., and driven to the 
Danville depot. Those who had deter- 
mined to evacuate with the fugitive govern- 
ment looked on with amazement; then, 
convinced of the fact, rushed to follow the 
government's example. Vehicles suddenly 
rose to a premium value that was astound- 
ing. All over the city it was the same — 
wagons, trunks, boxes, bundles, and their 
hurr3ing owners, filling the streets. By 
order of the military authorities, all the 
spirituous liquor in the city was destroyed, 
but some of it was seized and used by the 
straggling soldierj', who thereupon commit- 
ted the grossest exc'esses. The great 
tobacco warehouses were also, bj- mili- 
tary order, set on fire, as were also the 
various bridges leading out of the city, 
and the rams in James river were blown 
up. The whole scene was awful in the 
extreme. 

At Danville, Davis set up the form and 
machinery of his government, issuing at 
once a stirring address, in which he said : 
" We have now entered upon a new ])hase 
of the struggle. Relieved from the neces- 
sity of guarding particidar jioints, our 
army will be free to move from point to 
point, to strike the enemy in detail far 
from his base." Waiting here, in expect- 
ation of Lee's arrival with his army, tiie 
news of the surrender of the latter reached 
him on the lOtli of Ai)ril. Dismayed at 
the tidings, Davis hastily made his esca]ic 
to Greensboro, N. C, and afterwards, with 
various baitings, to Charlotte, N. C., and 
thence to Washington and Irwinsvillc 
Ga., where he was captured. May 11th, by 
the union cavalry, and carried, a prisoner, 
to Fortress Monroe. This was. in form, 
the close of the war. (Jcneral Jolinston 
surrendered his army at lialeigh, N. C, 
April 2GfIi, to (Jiiieral Sherman. General 
Howell Cobb, with his militia and five 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



885 



generals, surrendered to General Wilson, 
at Macon, Ga., April 20th. Gen. Dick 
Taylor surrendered all the remaining con- 
federate forces east of the Mississippi to 
General Canby, May 14th ; and, on the 
26th of the same month, Gen. Kirby Smith 
surrendered his entire command, west of 
the Mississippi, to the same officer. On 
the 14th of April, — just four years from 
the memorable bombardment and evacua- 
tion, — the flag of the United States was 
planted again upon Fort Sumter, under 
the orders of the president, by the hands 
of General Anderson, its commander in 
April, 1861. 

The close of this mighty struggle, assur- 
ing the world of the continued nationality 
of the American Union, filled the land 
with such transports and demonstrations 
of joy as were never before known among 
any people ; and the laurels of the nation 
covered the brow of Grant, the hero of 
mighty battles — the Conqueror of Peace. 
Bj' special act of congress, the full and 
supreme rank of General — a title never 
worn by a United States commander since 
the days of the illustrious Washington, — 
was revived and conferred ujjon Grant ; 
and, as the highest honor in the gift of 
his countrymen, he was in 1869 transfer- 
red fi'om the command of the army to the 
exalted position of President of the United 
States, in which station he remained eight 
years. 

One event, in especial, among the clus- 
ter just named in connection with the 
closing scenes of the Great Conflict, de- 
serves more than a passing mention here, 
namely, the Re-possession of Fort Sumter, 
and the- restoratioti to its original place 07i 
that historic spot, by General Anderson, of 
the identical flag which, after an honora- 
ble and gallant defense, he was compelled 
to lower in April, 1861. 

This ceremony of re-occupation took 
place, as ordered by President Lincoln, on 
Friday, April 14th, 1865, in presence of 
several thousands of spectators. Among 
the company were Generals Gillmore, Dix, 
Washburne, Doubleday, Anderson, Dela- 
field, Grover, Hatch, and Saxton, Rev. 



Henry Ward Beecher, William Lloyd 
Garrison, George Thompson, Assistant Sec- 
retary Fox, of the Navy Department, 
Professor Davis, and some two hundred 
officers of the navy. The spectators were 
convej'ed from Charleston to the fort by 
steamers, and the ceremonies were ushered 
in at noon with a song and chorus entitled 
' Victory at Last.' 

Prayer was now offered by Rev. Mat- 
thias Harris, chaplain United States Army, 
who made the prayer at the raising of 
the flag when Major Anderson suddenly 
removed his command from Fort Moultrie 
to Fort Sumter, December 27th, 1860. 
Rev. Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn, then read 
selections of scripture, after which, Adju- 
tant-General Townsend read Major Ander- 
son's dispatch, dated steamship Baltic, off 
Sandy Hook, April 18th, 1861, announcing 
the fall of Fort Sumter. 

Major-General Anderson and Sergeant 
Hart then stepped forward on the platform 
and unfurled the glorious old baimer, amid 
the deafening cheers of the assemblage. 
As they raised the flag, with an evergreen 
wreath attached, the occupants on the 
stage all joined in taking hold of the hal- 
yards. The scene of rejoicing that fol- 
lowed, as the flag reached the top of the 
staff, was indescribable. The enthusiasm 
was unbounded. There was a simultane- 
ous rising, cheering, and waving of hats 
and handkerchiefs, for fully fifteen minutes. 
As the starry emblem floated out grace- 
fully to the strong breeze, the joj'ful dem- 
onstrations were repeated, which were 
responded to by music from the bands, a 
salute of one hundred guns at Fort Sumter, 
and a national salute from every fort and 
battery that fired upon Sumter in April, 
1861. When this was over, General Ander- 
son came forward and said — 

" I am here, friends and fellow-citizens, 
and brother soldiers, to perform an act of 
duty which is dear to my heart, and which 
all of you present appreciate and feel. Did 
I listen to the promjjtings of my own 
heart, I would not attempt to speak ; but 
I have been desired by the secretary of 
war to make a few remarks. By the con- 



886 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



siderate appointment of the honored secre- 
tary of war to fulfill the cherished wish of 
my heart through four long years of bloody 
war — to restore to its jiroper place this 
vi-ry flag which floated here during peace, 
before the first act of this cruel rebellion 
— I thank God I have lived to see this 
day, to be here to perform this, perhaps 
the last act of duty to my country in this 
life. My heart is filled with gratitude to 
Almighty God for the signal blessings he 
has given us — blessings beyond number. 
May all the world proclaim ' Glory to God 



in the liighost ; on earth, peace and good 
will toward men.' "' 

The 'Star Spangled l^anner' was then 
sung by the whole audience, w-ith great 
feeling and effect ; after which, Rev. 
Henry Ward Beecher delivered a com- 
memorative oration of great eloquence and 
power. The doxology, with devotional 
services, closed the public exercises of the 
day ; and, with cheers for President Lin- 
coln, the old Flag, the Union, Generals 
Grant, Sherman, and others, the vast mul- 
titude separated. 



cm. 

ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN, AT FORD'S 

THEATER, WASHINGTON, BY J. WILKES 

BOOTH.— 1865. 



Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, all the Chief Officers of the Government — The Most Exalted 
and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Falls a Victim — A Universal Wail of Anguish and Lamentation 
Poured Forth from the National Heart. — Darkest Page in tlie History of the Country — B'uneral Cor- 
tege Through Fifteen States. — Tragical Fate of the Conspirators. — Object of this Most Infamous of 
Crimes —Singular Time of its Perpetration. — Virtunl End of the Great Civil War. — Dawn of Peace : 
Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Happy Frame of Mind. — How He Passed His Last Day. — Con- 
versations on the Evening of April 14th. — Makes an Engagement for the Morrow — Last Time He 
Signed His Name. — Reluctantly Goes to the Theater. — Arrives Late : Immense Audience — Plans and 
Movements of Booth, the Assassin. — The Fatal Shot : A Tragedy of Horrors — Removal of the Presi- 
dent to a Private House. — Speechless and Unconscious to the End — Death-Bed Scenes and Incidents. 
— The Nation Stunned at the Appalling News. — Its Reception at the South, and by General Lee. 

— A Continent in Tears and Mourning. — Most 
,^ ^ Imposing Obsequies Ever Known. — Booth's Swift 

*9ti ^ and Bloody End. — Trial of His Male and Female 
*j[. Accomplices. 




— " Mourn ye for him ? let him be ret;anled 
As the moBt Doble coise that ever herald 
Did follow to his urn." 



MR. LINCOLN'S EAKLY HOME. 



EVIEWING the great procession of events 
wliich distinguish the ninety years cov- 
ered by our national existence, up to the 
present time, there is, confessedly, none 
of the many during that period, which 
shows so dark and terrible a page, — none which so paralyzed the heart of the nation, or 
sent such a thrill of agony through the four continents of the globe, causing world-wide 
sorrow and lamentation, — as the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, president of the 
United States, by John Wilkes Booth, at Ford's Theater, in the capital of the nation, 
on the night of April 14th, 1865. And this bloody deed was but one act in the diabol- 
ical conspiracy which contemplated the simultaneous murder of the chief officers of 
state, at the federal capital, to the end that panic might there seize upon the govern- 
ment and nation, and treason and anarchy assert their sway over a republic in ruins. 

And yet, the time chosen for this most appalling conspiracy was that which was 
marked by the virtual close of the great war which for four long years had filled the 
land with carnage and death ; the prowess of General Grant had shattered the plans of 
the ablest military cliieftains of the south ; General Sherman had consummated his 
grand march from Atlanta to Savannah, and thence through South Carolina ; all the 



888 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



chief cities of the south were occupied by 
the union forces ; Lee had surrendered 
his sword, and President Lincoln had just 
visited the city of Richmond, so recently 
the confederate stronghold ; and Jefferson 
Davis was a fugitive, who liad then harely 
escaped capture. The demonstrations of 
joy at the now certain conclusion of hostil- 
ities, and the dawn of peace, were univer- 
sal; and by no one, in all the land, was 
this joy shared so fully as by President 
Lincoln. 

Of the president's happy frame of mind, 
now that victory had everywhere crowned 
the federal arms, and he was entering on 



/ 




FORO'S THEATER. 151 WASHINGTON. 

his second presidential term under the 
auspices of prospective peace, something 
may be judged by the incidents repre- 
sented to have transpired in connection 
with his private and personal intercourse, 
during the last day of his life. On the 
morning of that fatal day. Captain Robert 
LiiK'oln, son of the president, and who had 
just returned from the capitulation of Gen- 
eral Lee, breakfasted with his father, and 
the president passed a hapjn' hour listen- 
ing to all the details. While thus at 
breakfast, he heard that Speaker Colf<ax 
was in the house, and sent word that he 
wished to see him immediately in the 



reception room. He conversed with him 
nearly an hour, on his future policj' as to 
the south, which he was about to submit 
to the cabinet. Afterwards he had an 
interview with Mr. Hale, minister to Spain, 
and with several senators and representa- 
tives. At eleven o'clock, the cabinet and 
General Grant met with him, and, in one 
of the most important and satisfactory 
cabinet sessions held since his first inau- 
guration, the future policy of the admini.s- 
tration was harmoniou.slj' and unanimously 
agreed on, Secretary Stanton remarking 
that he felt that the government was 
stronger than at any previous j)eriod since 
the rebellion commenced. Turning to 
General Grant, Mr. Lincoln asked him if 
he had heard from General Sherman. 
General Grant replied that he had not, but 
was in hourly ex])ectation of receiving dis- 
jiatches from him announcing the sur- 
render of Johnston. The president re- 
plied : 

" Well, you will hear very soon, and the 
news will be important." 

"Why do }ou think so?" inquired 
General Grant, somewhat in a curious 
mood. 

" liecause," said !Mr. Lincoln, " 1 had a 
dream, last night, and, ever since the war 
began, I have invariably had the same 
dream before any very important military 
event has occurred." He then instanced 
Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, etc., and 
said that before each of those events he 
had had the same dream, and, turning to 
Secretary Welles, continued, '• It is in 
your line, too, Mr. Welles. The dream is, 
that I saw a ship sailing very rapidly, and 
I am sure that it portends some important 
national event." 

In the afternoon, the president h.ad a 
long and ]ileasant interview with General 
Oglesby, Senator Yates, and other leading 
citizens of Illinois. 

At about half-past seven o'clock in the 
evening, Hon. George Ashmun, of Massa- 
chusetts, who presided over the Chicago 
Convention in 1860, called at the AVhite 
House, and was ushered into the parlor, 
where Mr. Colfax was seated, waiting for 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



889 



an interview witli the president, on busi- 
ness which had a hearing on liis jiroposed 
overland trip. A few moments ehii)sed, 
when President Lincoln entered the room, 
and engaged in conversation upon various 
matters, appearing to be in a very happy 
and jovial frame of mind. He spoke of 
his visit to Richmond, and when they 
stated that there was much uneasiness at 
the north while he was in that city, for 
fear that he might be shot, he replied, 
jocularly, that he would have been alarmed 
himself if any other person had been pres- 
ident and gone there, but that personally 
he did not feel any danger whatever. 
Conversing on a matter of business with 
Mr. Ashniun, he made a remark that he 
saw Mr. Ashmun was surprised at, and, 
though not very important, he immediately 
said, with his well-known kindness of 
heart, — 

"You did not understand me, Ashmun. 
I did not mean what you inferred, and I 
take it all back and apologize for it." 

Mr. Ashmun desiring to see him again, 
and there being no time to attend to it 
then, the president took out a card, and 
placing it on his knee, wrote as follows : 

" Allow Mr. Ashmun and friend to come 
to me at nine A. M., to-morrow. 

April 14, '65. A. Lincoln." 

These were tlie last words that he 
penned. It was the last time that he 
signed his name to any order, document or 
message. The last words written by him 
were thus making an engagement for the 
morrow — an engagement which he was not 
allowed to meet. Before the hour had 
arrived he was no more. After signing 
the card, he said, humorously, to Mr. 
Colfax,— 

" Mr. Sumner has the gavel of the Con- 
federate Congress, which he got at Rich- 
mond, to hand to the secretary of war ; but 
I insisted then that he must give it to j'ou, 
and you tell him for me to hand it over." 

Mr. Ashmun here pleasantlj' alluded to 
the gavel which he himself still had — the 
same one he had used when ])residing over 
the Chicago Nominating Convention of 

isr.n. 



President Lincoln finally stated that he 
must go 1o the theater and, saying, '■ You 
are going with Mr.s. Lincoln and me to the 
theater, I hope," warmly pressed Speaker 
Colfax and Mr. Ashmun to accompany 
them, hut they excused themselves on the 
score of previous engagements. It was 
now half an hour after the time when they 
had intended to start, and they sjjoke 
about waiting half an hour longer, — the 
jiresident going with reluctance, as Gen- 
eral Grant had that evening gone north, 
and Mr. Lincoln did not wish the people 
to be disappointed, it having been an- 
nounced in the afternoon papers that the 
president, Mrs. Lincoln, and General 
Grant, would attend the theater that even- 
ing, to witness the representation of the 
"American Cousin." At the door, Mr. 
Lincoln stopped and said, — 

" Colfax, do not forget to tell the people 
in the mining regions, as you pass through 
them, what I told you this morning about 
the development when peace comes, and I 
will telegraph j'ou at San Francisco." 

Starting for the carriage, Mrs. Lincoln 
took the arm of Mr. Ashniun, and the 
president and Mr. Colfax walked together. 
As soon as the president and Mrs. Lincoln 
were seated in the carriage, Mrs Lincoln 
gave orders to the coachman to drive 
around to Senator Harris's residence, for 
Miss Harris. As the carriage rolled 
away, they both said ' Good-by, — Good- 
by," to Messrs. Ashmun and Colfax. A 
few moments later, and the presidential 
party of four persons, namely, the presi- 
dent and Mrs. Lincoln, Miss Harris, and 
Major Rathbone, arrived at the theater 
and entered the front and left-hand upper 
private box. 

The deeply-laid plan of Booth to murder 
the president was soon to culminate in 
horrid and fatal execution. According to 
the very reliable account given bj- the 
Hon. H. J. Raymond, in his biography of 
the martyred president, and in which 
account there is exhibited the most pains- 
taking synoi)sis of the accumulated evi- 
dence concerning Booth's movements, the 
murderer made his ajipearance at fifteen 



890 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




THE ASSASSINATION Ol' PKESIIJEST LINCOLN. 

minutes after ten, passed along the pas- 
sage beliind the spectators in the dress- 
circle, showed a card to the president's 
messenger, and stood for two or three min- 
utes looking down upon the stage and the 
orchestra hdow. He then entered the 
vestilmle of the president's box, close<l the 
door behind him, and fastened it by brac- 
ing a short jihuik against it from the wall, 
so that it could not he opened from the 
outside. He then drew a small silver- 
mounted Derringer ]iistol, which ho car- 
ried in his right hand, holding a long 
double-edged dagger in his left. All in 
the box were intent on the proceedings 
upon the stage; hut President Lincoln 
was leaning forward, holding aside the 
curtain of the box with his left hand, and 
looking, with his head slightly turned, 
towards the auilience. 15ooth stepped 
within the inner door into the box, directly 
behind the ju-esident, and, holding the 



)istol just over the back of the 
chair in which he sat, shot him 
through the back of the head. 
Mr. Lincoln's head fell slightly forward, 
and his e3'es closed, but in every other 
respect his attitude remained unchanged. 
The report of the jiistol startled those 
in the box, and Major Rathbone, turn- 
ing his eyes from the stage, saw, through 
the smoke that filled the box, a man 
standing between him and the president. 
He instantly sprang towards him and 
seized him ; but Booth wrested himself 
from his grasp, and, dropjiing the pis- 
tol, struck at him with the dagger, in- 
flicting a severe wound upon his left 
arm, near tlic slmuldcr. Booth then 
ru.-ilied to the front of the box, shouted 
"«*>/<• srniprr fi/raiinis f " — put his hand 
upon the railing in front of the box, and 
leaped over it upon the stage below. As 
he went over, his spur caught in the flag 
which draped the front, and he fell ; but 
recovering himself immediately, he rose, 
brandished the dagger, and facing the 
audience, shouted, " T/ir South is 
avenged!" He then ruslied across the 
stage towards the passage which led to the 



GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



891 



stage door in the rear of the theater. An 
actor named Hawke was tlie only person 
on the stage when Booth k'aped upon it, 
and seeing Booth coming towards him 
with the dagger in his hand, he ran off the 
stage and up a fliglit of stairs. Bootli ran 
through tlio passage-way beside the scenes, 
meeting one or two persons only, whom he 
struck from his path, went out at the door 
which stood open, and which he closed 
behind him, and mounting a horse which 
he had brought there, and which a lad was 
holding for him, he rode over the Anacosta 
bridge, across the east branch of the Poto- 
mac, safely escaping to Lower Maryland. 

It is impossible to describe the scene 
which transpired in that box and in that 
vast audience, on the discovery that the 
president was shot. Suffice it to say, that 
the surgeon-general and other physicians 
were immediately summoned, and their 
skill exhausted in efforts to restore 'him to 
consciousness. An examination of his 
wounds, however, showed that no hopes 
could be given that his life would be 
spared. 

Preparations were at once made to re- 
move him, and he was conveyed to a house 
immediately opposite, and there placed 
upon a bed, the only evidence of life being 




HOUSE Wllliu: I.lNioLN DIED. 

an occasional nervous twitching of the 
hand and heavy breathing. At about half- 
past eleven, the motion of the muscles of 
his face indicated as if he were trying to 
speak, but doubtless it was merely muscu- 
lar. His eyes protruded from their sock- 
ets and were suffused with blood. 



At his bedside were the secretaries of 
war, the navy and the interior ; the post- 
master-general and attorney-general ; Sen- 
ator Sumner; General Todd, cousin to 
Mrs. Lincoln; Major Hay, Mr. M. B. 
Field, General Halleck, General Meigs, 
Rev. Doctor Gurley, the physicians, and a 
few other persons. All were bathed in 
tears ; and Secretary Stanton, when in- 
formed by Surgeon-General Barnes, that 
the president could not live until morning, 
exclaimed, " Oh, no. General ; no — no ; " 
and with an impulse, natural as it was 
unaffected, immediately sat down and 
wept like a child. Senator Sumner was 
seated at the right of the president, near 
the head, holding the right hand of the 
president in his own ; he was sobbing like 
a woman, with bis head bowed down 
almost upon the pillow of the bed. In an 
adjoining room were Mrs. Lincoln, and 
several others. 

Mrs. Lincoln was in a state of great 
excitement and agony, wringing her hands 
and exclaiming, " Why did he not shoot 
me, instead of my husband ! I have tried 
to be so careful of him, fearing something 
would happen, and his life seemed to be 
more precious now than ever. I must go 
with him ! " — and other expressions of like 
character. She was constantlj' going to 
and from the bedside of the president, say- 
ing in utter grief, "How can it be so!" 
The scene was heart-rending. Captain 
Robert Lincoln bore himself with great 
firmness, and constantly endeavored to 
assuage the grief of his mother bj' telling 
her to put her trust in God and all would 
be well. Occasionally, however, being 
entirely overcome, he would retire by him- 
self and give vent to most piteous lamen- 
tations. 

At four o'clock, the symptoms of restless- 
ness returned, and at six the premonitions 
of dissolution set in. His face, which had 
been quite pale, began to assume a waxen 
transparency, the jaw slowly fell, and the 
teeth became exposed. About a quarter 
of an hour before the president died, his 
breathing became very difficult, and in 
many instances seemed to have entirely 



892 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ceased. He would again rally and lireatlie 
with so great diftiiulty as to be heard in 
almost every part of the house. Mrs. 
Lincoln took her last leave of him about 
twentA' minutes before he expired, and was 
sitting in the adjoining room when it was 
announced to her that lie was dead. 
When this announcement was made, she 
exclaimed, " Oh ! why did you not tell me 
that he was dying ! '' 

The surgeons and the members of the 
cabinet, Senator Sumner, Captain Robert 
Lincoln, General Todd, Mr. Field, and 
one or two more, were standing at his 
bed-side when he breathed his last. Rob- 





ert Lincoln was resting himself tenderly 
upon the arm of Senator Sumner, the 
mutual embrace of the two having all the 
affectionateness of father and son. The 
surgeons were sitting upon the side and 
foot of the bed, holding the president's 
hands, and with their watches observing 
the slow declension of the pulse, and 
watching the ebbing out of the vital spirit. 

He lingered longer than was expected ; 
until, at twenty-two minutes past seven 
o'clock, in the morning, April fifteenth, 
the phj'sician said, with solemn accent and 
overpowering emotion, — 

" He is gone ; he is dead." 

Such was the deep stillness, in that 
awful presence, at the fatal announcement, 



that for the space of five minutes the tick- 
ing of the watches could be distinctly 
heard. All stood transfixed in their posi- 
tions, speechless, breathless, around the 
dead body of that great and good man. 
At length the secretary of war broke the 
silence and said to Rev. Doctor Gurley, 
" Doctor, will you say anything ? " He 
replied, " I will speak to God." " Do it 
just now," responded the secretary. And 
there, by the side of the fallen chief, a fer- 
vent prayer was offered up, at the close of 
which there arose from the lips of the 
entire company a fervid and spontaneous 
" Amen." 

No adequate portrayal can be 
given of the effect upon the 
public mind, of the murder of 
the president, as the news was 
borne along the telegriiphic 
wires, from one end of the land 
to tlie other. Stunned, bewil- 
dered, incredulous, at first, the 
tears and wailing of a whole 
nation were soon manifest — 
deep answering unto deep — to 
an extent and degree never be- 
fore witnessed since the death 
of Washington. A pang of lior- 
X ror seized every heart, in this 
darkest hour of the country's 
history, the emblems of mourn- 
ing shrouded the land in very 
darkness — its streets, its habita- 
tions, its churches, its halls of justice, its 
capitols, — funeral pageants everywhere 
hushed the noise of business, — and the 
solemn voice of eulogy and lamentation, 
and the sound of dirge and recjuicm, filled 
the air, from the mountains of the north 
to the prairies and valleys of the west and 
the golden slopes of the far-off Pacific. 

If, in the blind and fatal mistake of 
sectional antagonism or partisan bitterness, 
this most infamous of human crimes found 
apologists, there were, at least, some nota- 
ble exceptions to this feeling. Thus, 
when the tidings reached Richmond, Gen- 
eral Lee at first refused to hear the details 
of the horrid deed, from the two gentlemen 
who waited uj)on him on Sunday night 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



893 



with the particulars. He said, that when 
he dispossessed himself of the command of 
the confederate forces, he kept in view Pres- 
ident Lincoln's benignity, and surrendered 
as much to the latter's goodness as to 
Grant's artillery. The general said that 
he regretted Mr. Lincoln's death as much 
as any man in the north, and believed him 
to be the epitome of magnanimity and good 
faith. 

On the nineteenth of April, the New 
World witnessed the most imposing fu- 
neral ceremonies that ever took place this 
side of the Atlantic, or perhaps in the 
whole world. The body, which had been 
embalmed, lay in state in the Green Room 
of the White House, the coffin resting 
upon a magnificent catafalque, and the 



The description given by Holland, of 
the procession in the federal metropolis, 
will apply, in its main features, to all the 
corteges in the various cities through 
which the honored remains passed. " Ev- 
ery piazza, window, verandah and house- 
top, was tilled with eager but mournful 
faces. Funereal music filled the sweet 
spring air ; and this was the only sound, 
except the measured tread of feet, and the 
slow roll of wheels upon the pavement. 
As the hearse, drawn by six gray horses, 
reached the capitol grounds, the bands 
burst forth in a requiem, and were an- 
swered b}' minute-guns from the fortifica- 
tions. The body of the president was 
borne into the rotunda, where Doctor Gur- 
ley completed the religious exercises of the 




LIM OL.N S HESIDENCE AT SPRINGFIELD, ILL. 



grand room overflowing with flowers which 
had poured in from innumerable sources. 
The public exercises took place in the East 
Room, being conducted by Rev. Drs. Hall, 
Gurley, and Gray, and Bishop Simpson. 
The throng of dignitaries, embracing rep- 
resentatives of the army and navy, sena- 
tors and members of congress, judges, for- 
eign ambassadors, governors of the states, 
and other high officials, was such as had 
never before been gathered together in the 
executive mansion. From the latter place, 
the body of the illustrious deceased was 
conveyed, along Pennsylvania Avenue, to 
the great rotunda of the nation's capitol, 
thence to be carried to their last re.sting- 
place in Oak Ridge cemetery, Springfield, 
111. 



occasion. Here the remains rested, ex- 
posed to public view, but guarded by sol- 
diery, until the next day. Thousands 
who had no other opportunity to take their 
farewell of the beloved dust thronged the 
capitol all night. The procession which 
moved from the White House, April 19th, 
was but the beginning of a jjageant that 
displayed its marvelous numbers and its 
ever-varying forms, through country, and 
village, and city, winding across the terri- 
tories of vast states, along a track of more 
than fifteen hundred miles." During this 
period, millions gazed upon the loved 
features of the departed president. 

It was on the twenty-first of April, that 
the remains were started upon their mourn- 
ful journey to Springfield, 111. They were 



894 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



taken to that city by the route he pursued 
while on liis way from his western home to 
be inaugurated in Washington. Balti- 
more, Harrisburg, Philadelphia, New York, 
Albany, I-iut'falo, Cleveland, Columlnis, In- 
dianapolis, and Chicago, were visited in 
the order named, and at each place, as 
well as all along the route, there were 
most extraordinary demonstrations of re- 
spect and sorrow. Millions of peojdo 
miinifested, by every possible means and 
token, their deep sense of the public loss, 
and their appreciation of the exalted vir- 
tues which adorned the life of Abraham 
Lincoln. All classes, witliout distinction 
of politics or creeds, spontaneously united 
in the posthumous honors. 

The funeral at Springfield was on a 
beautiful May day. At noon, the remains 
were brought from the state house, in the 
same hearse which had borne the bodies 




SEROF.AKT BOSTON CORBETT. 

of General Lyon and Thomas H. Benton. 
The hearse was surmounted by a crown of 
flowers. From the portico, as the proces- 
sion advanced, a vast chorus of voices filled 
the air with the strains of "Children of 
the Heavenly King." The ceremonies 
were under the immediate direction of 
General Hooker. A dirge was sung; and 
after the reading of scripture, a prayer, 
and a hymn, the president's second inau- 
gural address was read. A dirge suc- 
ceeded, after which Bishop Simpson de- 
livered the funeral oration before the great 
audience there assembled, and from the 
midst of which went forth many an ejacu- 
lation of uncontrollable sorrow. 



And the illustrious and nELO\T:D 

I'HK.SI1»ENT, SO KECEXTLV THE MOST EX- 
ALTED OF MOKTAL RULERS, WAS lUKIED 
IN HIS OWN TOMB. 

But before the noble departed had been 
consigned, amidst the tears and lamenta- 
tions of a whole continent, to the earth's 
bosom, John Wilkes Booth, the perpetra- 
tor of the greatest of modern crimes, had 
met his doom, and most of his co-conspira- 
tors — Atzerodt, Doctor Mudd, Paj'ne, Har- 
old, Mrs. Surratt. 0"Laut,di]in, Arnold, and 
Spangler — were in the clutches of the law. 
It was Payne, who, at the same time that 
Booth's bullet sped its fatal course, en- 
acted his part of the conspiracy in which 
Booth was chief, by entering the sick 
chamber of Secretary Seward, stabbing 
him in tlie thmat, and then escaping. It 
was at Mrs. Surratt's house that the con- 
spirators had met and laid their plans. 
As alleged, Atzerodt was to have taken the 
life of Vice-President Johnson. O'Laugh- 
lin was assigned to murder General Grant 
or Secretary Stanton. Harold was the 
body companion of Booth. S])angler as- 
sisted in Booth's escape from the theater. 
Mudd had held interviews with Booth and 
John II. Surratt, son of Mrs. Surratt 
named above, and had also attended to 
Booth's leg, crippled by his getting entan- 
gled with the flag that decorated the jjnsi- 
dent's box. Arnold was originally in the 
plot, but quarreled, and left it. Booth was 
but twenty-seven years old at the time of 
his crime, bj- profession an actor, long 
known for his dissipated habits, and for his 
ardent devotion to the southern cause. 
He was born in Harford county, Md., his 
father being the once celebrated actor, 
Junius Brutus Booth, and his brother 
being Edwin Booth, also famous on the 
stage. 

Immediately after the murder. Colonel 
Baker, of the detective service, set out to 
find Booth's hiding-place. He soon suc- 
ceeded in cajjturing Atzerodt and Mudil. 
A negro was then arrested, who said he 
had seen Booth and another man cross the 
Potomac in a fishing boat. Colonel Baker 
sent to General Hancock for twenty-five 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



895 



mounted men to aid him in the pursuit. 
These were sent under Lieutenant Dough- 
ertj', and Baker placed them under the 
control of Lieutenant-Colonel Conger, and 
of his cousin, Lieutenant L. B. Baker, and 
dispatched them to Belle Plain, with 
orders to scour the country about Port 
Royal. 

At Port Royal they found one Rollins, 
a fisherman, who referi-ed them to a negro 
named Lucas as having driven two men a 
short distance toward Bowling Green, in a 
wagon. These men perfectly answered 
the description of Booth and Harold. 
Some disbanded men, it was learned, be- 
longing to Mosby's command, took Booth 
under their protection on the way to 
Bowling Green, a small court-house town 
in Caroline county. To that place, Baker 
and his party immediately proceeded, and 
there found the captain of the confederate 
cavalry, from whom they extorted a state- 
ment of Booth's whereabouts ; this was at 
the house of a Mr. Garrett, which they had 
already passed. 

Returning with the captain for a guide, 
the worn-out command halted at Garrett's 
gate, at two o'clock on the morning of 
April 26th. Without noise, the house 
was surrounded, and Baker went up to 
the kitchen door at the side, and rapped. 
An old man in half undress undrew the 
bolts, and had scarcely opened the door 
before Baker had him by the throat with 
a pistol at his ear, and asked, " Where are 
the men who stay with you ? " Under 
the menace of instant death, the old man 
seemed paralyzed, but at Baker's order lit 
a candle. The question was then repeated. 
"They are gone," replied the old man. 
Soon a young boy appeared, and told 
Baker the men he sought were in the 
barn. The barn was then surrounded. 
Baker and Conger went to the door. The 
former called out, signifying his intention 
to have a surrender on the part of the men 
inside, or else to fire the barn, and shoot 
them on the spot. The young boy was 
sent in to receive their arms. To the 
boy's message Booth answered with a 
curse, accusing the boy of having betrayed 



him. The boy then came out, and Baker 
repeated his demand, giving Booth five 
minutes to make up his mind. Booth 
replied — 

" Who are you, and what do you want 
with us ? " 

" W^e want j'ou to deliver up your arms 
and become our prisoners," said Baker. 

" But who are you ? " 

" That makes no difference. We know 
who you are, and we want you. We have 
here fifty men with carbines and pistols. 
You cannot escape." 

" Captain," said Booth, after a pause, 
" this is a hard case, I swear. Perhaps I 
am being taken by my own friends." 

He then asked time to consider, which 
was granted. After a little interval. 
Baker threatened to fire the barn, if they 
did not come out. Booth replied that he 
was a cripple, and begged a chance for his 
life, declaring that he would fight them 
all at so many yards apace, and that he 
would never be taken alive. ISaker an- 
swered that he did not come there to fight 
but to capture him, and again threatened 
to fire the barn. 

" Well, then, my brave boys," said 
Booth, " prepare a stretcher for me." 

Harold now wanted to surrender, and, 
in the midst of a shower of imprecations 
from Booth, did so. Conger then set fire 
to the barn. 

The blaze lit up the black recesses of 
the great barn till every wasp's nest and 
every cobweb in the roof was visible, fling- 
ing streaks of red and violet across the 
tumbled farm-gear in the corner, and bath- 
ing the murderer's retreat in a vivid illu- 
mination, — and, while in bold outline his 
li'.'ure stood revealed, they rose like an 
impenetrable wall to guard from sight the 
dreadful enemy who lit them. Behind the 
blaze, with his eye to a crack, Conger saw 
Wilkes Booth standing upright ujjon a 
crutch. At the gleam of fire. Booth 
dropped his crutch and carbine, and on 
both hands crept up to the spot to e-'^jiy 
the incendiary and .shoot him dead. His 
eyes were lustrous as with fever, and 
swelled and rolled in terrible anxiety, 



896 



OUK I'-IKST CENTURY.— 177U-1S7G. 



wliile liis teeth were fixed, and lie wore 
the expression of one in tlie culniness jire- 
ceding frenzy. In vain lie jieerud, with 
vengeance in his look; the blaze that 
made him visible coneealed his pursuers. 
A second he turned glaring at the fire, as 
if to leap upon and extinguish it, but the 
flames had made such headway that this 
was a futile impulse, and he dismissed it. 
As calmly as upon the battle-field a vet- 



bett fired through a crevice and shot Booth 
in the neck. 

They then took up the wounded man 
and carried liiiu out on the grass, a little 
way from tlie door, beneath a locust tree. 
Conger went back to the barn, to see if 
the tire could be put out, but found it 
could not, and returned to where Booth 
was lying. Before this (saj's Lieutenant 
Conger, in his official account), I supposed 




NJb, 






DDRIAI. PLACE OP LINCOLN. 



eran stands amidst the hail of ball and 

shell and jilunging ir l!ootli turncil at 

a man's stride and pushed for the door, 
weapon in poise, and the last resolve of 
death — despair — set on his high, bloodless 
forehead. 

At this instant. Sergeant Boston Cor- 



him to be dead ; he had all the appearance 
of a dead man ; but when I came back, his 
eyes and mouth were moving. I called 
immediately for water, and put some on 
his face. He seemed to revive, and at- 
tempted to speak. I put my ear down to 
his mouth, and heard hira say, "Tell my 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



897 



mother I died for mj^ couiitiy." I re- 
peated the words to liini, and said, "Is 
that what you would say ? " He said 
" Yes." They carried him to the porch of 
Garrett's house, and laid him on a straw 
bed or tick. At that time he revived con- 
siderablj', and could talk iu a whisjjer, so 
as to be intelligibly understood. He could 
not speak above a whisper. He wanted 
water; I gave it to him. He wanted to 
turn on his face ; I said he couldn't lie in 
that position. He wanted to be turned on 
his side ; we turned him on his side three 
times, but he could not lie with any com- 
fort, and asked immediately to be turned 
back. He asked me to put my hand on 
his throat, and press down, which I did. 
He said " Harder; " I pressed as hard as 
I thought necessary. He made a very 
strong exertion to cough, but was unable 
to do so. I suppose he thought there was 
blood in his throat. I asked him to put 
out his tongue, which he did. I said, 
"There is no blood in your throat." He 
repeated several times, " Kill me ! kill 
me ! " I replied, " I do not want to kill 
you. I want j'ou to get well." 

When the doctor arrived, whom Conger 
had sent for, Booth asked to have his 
hands raised and shown him. When this 
was done, he muttered " Useless, useless ! " 
These were his last words. He died about 
four hours after being shot. 

The solemn trial of the other accom- 
plices in this great crime of conspiracy 
and murder, soon took place in the city of 
Washington, before a military commission 
consisting of Generals Hunter, Howe, 
Harris, Wallace, Kautz, Foster, Ekin ; 
Colonels Clendenin, Tompkins, and Bur- 
nett ; Judges Bingham and Holt. The 
last named held the position of Judge- 
Advocate-General of the court, and Major- 
General Hunter officiated as president. 

The charges upon which Payne was 
arrested and tried were, that he was a 
confederate of Booth in the general con- 
spiracy to kill the president, vice-president. 
General Grant, and Secretary Seward, so 
as thus to deprive the army and navy of a 

constitutional commander-in-chief, and to 
57 



prevent a lawful election of president and 
vice-president by the vacancy thus made 
in the office of secretary' of state, — the duty 
of the latter officer being, in case of the 
death of the president and vice-jiresident, 
to cause an election to be held for presi- 
dential electors. The arraignment of all 
the parties was upon this general charge, 
with specifications in each case. 

Against Payne, the sjiecification was 
that of attempting to kill Secretary Sew- 
ard. Presenting himself at the door of 
Mr. Seward's residence, he gained admis- 
sion bj' representing that he had a pre- 
scription from Mr. Seward's physician, 
which he was directed to see administered, 
and hurried up to the third-story chamber, 
where Mr. Seward was lying sick. He 
here discovered Mr. Frederick Seward, 
struck him over the head, inflicting severe 
wounds, and then rushed into the room 
where Mr. Seward was in bed, attended by 
a young daughter and a male nurse. The 
assassin stabbed the latter in the lungs, 
and then struck Secretary Seward with a 
dasrsccr twice in the face and twice in the 
throat, inflicting terrible wounds. By this 
time Major Seward, eldest son of the sec- 
retar3', and another attendant, reached the 
room, and rushed to the rescue of the sec- 
retary ; they were also wounded in the 
conflict, and the assassin escaped. 

Spangler, who was employed at the the- 
ater, was tried for aiding and assisting 
Booth to obtain an entrance to the box in 
which President Lincoln sat in the thea- 
ter, and for barring or obstructing the 
door of the passage-way, so as to hinder 
pursuit. 

Atzerodt was charged with lying in wait 
to murder Vice-President Johnson, at the 
Kirkwood House, where the latter was 
stopping. He took a room at that house, 
on the morning of April 14th, and was 
there at different times during the day and 
evening, under suspicious circumstances. 
Though in active co-operation with Booth 
and his accomplices, he failed in executing 
the part particularly delegated to him. 

In the further programme of the great 
conspiracy, O'Laughlin was to take the 



898 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1770-1876. 



life of General Grant, and on this cliarj^e 
and sj)ecifioation he was indicted and tried, 
though he failed, like Atzerodt, to aocoui- ' 
j)lish the Moody deed. 

Mrs. Surratt was charged with having 
"on or before the sixth day of March, 
1865, and on divers other days and times 
between that day and the twentieth of 
April, 1865, received, entertained, har- 
bored and concealed, aided and assisted " 
the consi)irators in the execution of their 
plans. She was charged with being cog- 
nizant of the intended crime almost from 
its inception, becoming an active partici- 
pant and general manager. With Doctor 
Mudd, it was charged, she planned the 
means and assistance for the escape of the 
assassins, and visited Mudd at five o'clock 
on the day of the assassination, to see that 
certain weapons were in readiness. Booth 
had frequent interviews at her house, 
and was with her on the afternoon of the 
fourteentli. 

The part taken by Doctor ^[udd, in the 
tragedy, was described in the indictment 
as that of an accomplice. He was, it ap- 
peared, in the confidence of Booth several 
months prior to the assassination. In 
January, he had an interview with John 
H. Surratt and Booth, at the National 
Hotel. He introduced Booth to Surratt, 
and was visited by Booth at the Pennsyl- 
vania House. When the assassins fled to 
his house, he dressed Booth's wound and 
assisted in the escape of both Booth and 
Harold. Wlieu the oflicers called at his 



house, soon after the assassination, he 
denied that he knew either of the crimin- 
als, but subsequently', after his arrest, lie 
aflmitted the fact of his acijuaintance with 
Booth; both of the fugitives were well 
cared for by him at his house. 

Arnold was tried for being one of the 
original conspirators, but it was not 
charged that he maintained any active 
relation to the plot at the time appointed 
for its execution. His guilt consisted in 
being an accomplice before the act. 

Harold's complicity admitted, of course, 
of no doubt. On the night of the assas- 
sination he was seen at the livery stable 
with Booth, and on various occasions he 
was known to have held secret meetings 
with Booth, Atzerodt, and others of the 
conspiracy, at Mrs. Surratt's and else- 
where. During his flight with Booth, he 
acknowledged to confederate soldiers that 
he and Booth had made way with the 
president. 

Atzerodt, Harold, Bayne, and Jlrs. Sur- 
ratt, were found guilty of crimes deserving 
death, and were hanged therefor on the 
seventh of July, 18G5. Arnold, O'Laugh- 
lin, and Mudd, were sent to the Dry Tor- 
tugas for hard labor during life; and 
Spangler for six years of hard labor, at the 
same place. John H. Surratt, son of Mrs. 
Surratt above named, and who was also 
indicted, fled to Europe ; being discovered, 
he was arrested and sent to Washington, 
but, after a jirotracted trial by jury, es- 
caped conviction. 



CIV. 

SUCCESSFUL LAYING OF THE TELEGIIA.PII CABLE 
ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.— 1866. 



The Old World and the New United by Instantaneous Communication. — Pronounced the Grandest of 
Human Enterprises — Ten Years of DifBculty and Failure in the Mighty Task — The Name of Its 
Indomitable Projector Crowned with Itntnortal Honor — Illustrations of the Power and Wonders of 
this New-Born Agent of Civilization. -r-Ocean Telegraphs Early Predicted — First Attempt in 1857. — 
Breaking of the Wire — Fresh but Abortive Trials in '58 and '65. — Great Preparations for 1866. — 
Exquisite Construction of the Cable — A Wealthy and Powerful Company. — Cyrus W. Field, Its Mas- 
ter Spirit.— Employment of the Great Eastern.— Laying the Sliore End at Valentia— Rejoicing of the 
Inhabitants — Voyage of the Fleet to America — Incidents and Accidents. — Intense Solicitude, Day 
and Night. — A Joyous Morning! July 27th. — Perfect Success from End to End. — First News Dispatch, 
Peace in Europe. — Messages Between the President and Queen. — Compliments to Mr. Field. — His 
Interview with Lord Clarendon.— John Bright's Sparkling Tribute.— Moral Uses of tlie Cable. 



"Heart's CONTEyT, July 2;tli. Weorrived here at nine o'clock, this morning. Allwell. Thank God, the cable 'is laid, and is in perfect 
king order.— Cyeus W. Field." 



working 




SECTIU.N OF TllK ATL.iNTIC C.\BLE. 



NNECESSARY would he the task of detailing, in this 
place, — additional to those pages already devoted to Pro^ 
fessor Morse's grand discover3', and its practical appli- 
cation the world wide, — the technical principles and 
operations involved in the science of telegraphic com- 
munication. 

It was early declared by Professor Morse, and l\y other 
distinguished investigators of the nature and powers of 
the electric current, that neither the ocean itself, nor the distance to be traversed, pre- 
sented any insuperable obstacle to the laying of submerged oceanic lines from conti- 
nent to continent, and the confident prophecy that such lines would eventually be 
undertaken was freely' uttered and discussed in learned circles. 

It was not, however, until the year 1857, that an attempt was made to stretch a tele- 
graphic wire across the bed of the Atlantic. The cable was coiled half on board the 
United States steamship Niagara, anil half on the British steamer Agamemnon. They 
began to lay it in mid-ocean on the 26th of June, the Niagara proceeding toward tlie 
American coast, the Agamemnon toward Ireland. After the wire had three times 
broken, tlie attempt was given up. The following August it was renewed on a different 
plan. The shore-end was made fast at Valentia Bay, and the Niagara began paying 
out on the seventh, the arrangement being that the Agamemnon should begin opera- 
tions when the Niagara had exhausted her half of the cable. On the eleventh, after 
three hundred and thirty-five miles had been laid, the wire broke again. Tlie third 
attempt was made with the same vessels in 1858. The ends of the cable were joined 



900 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



in mid-ocean, July 29th, and, August 6th, 
the two vessels arrived siinultaiifously at 
their respective destinations. This cable 
worked for a time, but the electric current 
grew weak and finally failed altogether. 

But these repeated failures, though a 
severe disap])ointnient tu those engaged in 
the great and costly enterprise, did not 
destroy their faith in its feasibility, and 
the mighty task was begun ;inew, advan- 
tage being taken of whatever instruction 
past experience could furnish or suggest, 

Es|>ecial care had, it is true, been exer- 
cised_in the i)revious undertaking, to have 
the construction of the cable itself as per- 
fect as possible. It was the result of 
many montiis' thought, experiment, and 
trial. Hundreds of specimens were made, 
com[)rising every variety of form, size, and 
structure, and most severely tested as to 
their powers and capabilities ; and the 
result was the ado[)tion of one which, it 
was believed, possessed all the j)r()i)erties 
required, in a far higher degree than any 
cable that had yet been laid. Its flexibil- 
ity was such as to make it as manageable 
as a small line, and its strength such that 
it would bear, in water, over six miles of 
its own weight suspended vertically. The 
conducting medium consisted not of one 
single straight copper wire, but of seven 
wires of copper of the best quality, twisted 
round each other spirally, and ca])able of 
undergoing great tension without injury. 
This conductor was then enveloped in 
three separate coverings of gutta percha, 
of the best quality, forming the core of 
the cable, round which tarred hemp was 
wrapped, and over this, the outside cover- 
ing, consisting of eighteen strands of the 
best quality of iron wire, — each strand 
composed of seven distinct wires, twisted 
spirally, in the most ai)iiroved manner, by 
machinery siH-cially adapted to the pur- 
pose. Such was the exipiisitely constructed 
cable used on this occasion. 

Great attention was also paid to the 
arrangement of the apparatus for paying 
out. The machine for this purpose was 
placed on deck in the after-part of the 
vessel, and somewhat on the starboard side, 



to be clear of the mast, etc. The cable, as 
it came up from its enormous coils in the 
hold, passed first through a guiding groove 
and over a deeply grooved wheel, on to the 
drums, each of the latter being furnished 
with four deep grooves, each groove being 
cut one-eighth of an inch deei)er than the 
former to allow for slack. The cable, after 
winding round these drums, passed on 
from tlio last groove over another guiding 
wheel, to a distinct piece of machinery, 
also standing on the deck, and half-way 
between the brakes and the ship's stern. 
Here a grooved wheel worked on a sliding 
frame, furnished with weights fixed on a 
rod, which ended in a piston, inside of a 
cylinder, full of water. This piston, being 
made not quite large enough to fit the 
cylinder, the water bad room to ]ilay about 
it, l)ut with (lithculty — so that, yielding 
freely to every alteration of pressure, it 
could do so to none with a jerk, as the 
piston required some little time to dislodge 
the water from one side of it to the other, it 
acting, in short, as a water cushion. From 
this last piece of machinery the ealile 
passed over a wheel or sheave projecting 
well over the stern of the ship, and so 
down into the ocean depths. 

So intelligent and powerful an associa- 
tion as that whicli had this great enter- 
prise in charge — an association composed 
of some of the leading merchants and cap- 
italists of England and America, guided 
by the wonderful genius of Mr. Cyrus W. 
Field, — might well be su] posed inca]iable 
of yielding to defeat, and thus it was that, 
until success finally and beyond all perad- 
venttin! crowned their efforts, they con- 
tinued their tests and trials of improved 
machinery and cables, availing themselves 
of every resource of science, and even 
bringing into requisition, at last, the mag- 
nificent conveniences of conveyance af- 
forded by that " leviathan of the deep," the 
steamer Great Eastern. 

In this way, certain facts an<l jirinciples 
were arrived at, and demonstrated by trials 
and expeditions conducted in accordance 
therewith, which showed plainly what had 
been the errors of the jiast, and what 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



901 



should be the governing rules of future 
operations. Among these facts and princi- 
ples were the following : 

It was proved by tlie expedition of 1858, 
that a submarine telegraph cable could be 
laid between Ireland and Newfoundland, 
and messages transmitted. 

By the expedition of 1865 — when the 
cable was lost — it was demonstrated that 
the insulation of a cable improves very 
much after its submersion in the cold 
deep water of the Atlantic, and that its 
conducting power is considerably increased 
thereby; that the steamship Great East- 
ern, from her size and constant steadiness, 
and from the control over her afforded by 
the joint use of paddles and screw, ren- 
dered it safe to lay an Atlantic cable in 
an}^ weather ; tliat in a depth of over two 
miles, four attempts were made to grapjile 
the lost cable, in three of which the cable 
was caught bj' the grapnel, and in the 
other the grapnel was fouled by the 
chain attached to it ; that the paying- 
out machinery used on board the Great 
Eastern worked perfectly, and could be 
confidently relied on for laying cables 
across the Atlantic ; that with the im- 
proved telegraphic instruments for long 
submarine lines, a speed of more than 
eight words per minute could be obtained 
through such a cable as that sunk between 
Ireland and Newfoundland, as the amount 
of slack actually paid out did not exceed 
fourteen per cent., wliich would have made 
the total cable laid between Valentia and 
Heart's Content nineteen hundred miles ; 
that the lost Atlantic cable, though cap.a- 
ble of bearing a strain of seven tons, did 
not experience more than fourteen hun- 
dred-weight in being paid out into the 
deepest water of the Atlantic between 
Ireland and Newfoundland ; that there was 
no difficulty in mooring buoys in the deep 
waters of the Atlantic between Ireland 
and Newfoundland, and that two buoys 
even, when moored by a piece of the 
Atlantic cable itself, which had been pre- 
viously lifted from the bottom, had ridden 
out a gale ; that more than four nautical 
miles of the Atlantic cable had been 



recovered from a depth of over two miles, 
and that the insulation of the gutta 
perclia covered wire was in no way what- 
ever impaired by the depth of water 
or the strains to which it had been sub- 
jected by lifting and passing through 
the hauling-in apparatus ; that the cable 
of 1865, owing to the improvements in- 
troduced into the manufactui'e of the 
gutta percha core, was more than one 
hundred times better insulated than cables 
made in 1858, then considered perfect; 
that the electrical testing could be con- 
ducted with such unerring certainty as to 
enable the electricians to discover the 





4ic-^uA(j 



existence of a fault immediately after its 
production or development, and very 
quickly to ascertain its position in the 
cable ; and, finally, that with a steam- 
engine attached to the paying-out ma- 
chinery, should a fault be discovered on 
board whilst laying the cable, it was 
possible to recover it before it had reached 
the bottom of the ocean, and have it 
repaired at once. 

Still led on by that master-spirit of the 
enterprise, Mr. Eield, its friends formed 
themselves into a new company, with a 
large amount of capital, and the summer of 
1866 was fixed upon for another effort, the 
Great Eastern to be employed for the pur- 



902 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



pose. By the time (saj-s Dr. H. M. Field, 
the admirable hi-storian of the enteriirise.) 
the big ship had her cargo and stores on 
board, she was well laden. Of the cable 
alone there were two thousand four hun- 
dred miles, coiled in three immense tanks, 
as the year before. Of this, seven hun- 
dred and fort3'-eight miles were a part of 
the cable of the last expedition. The 
tanks alone, with the water in them, 
weighed over a thousand tons ; and the 
cable which they held, four thousand tons 
more ; besides which she had to carry 
eight thousand five hundred tons of coal 
and five hundred tons of telegraph stores 
— in all some fourteen tliousaiul tons, 
besides engines, rigging, etc., wliirh inailc 
nearly as much more. So enormous was 
this burden, that it was thought prudent 
not to take on board all her coal before 
she left the Medway, especially as the 
channel was winding and shallow. It 
was therefore arranged that about a third 
of her coal should be taken in at Bere- 
haven, a port on the south-west coast of 
Ireland. The time for her departure, was 
the last day of June ; and in four or five 
days she liad passed down the Irish coast, 
and was quietly anchored in the harbor at 
Berehaven, where she was soon joined by 
the other vessels of the squadron. The 
Terrible, which had accompanied the Great 
Eastern on the former expedition, was still 
there to represent the majesty of England. 
The William Corry, a vessel of two thou- 
sand tons, bore the ponderous shore end, 
which was to be laid out thirty miles from 
the Irish coast, while the Albany and the 
Medway were ships chartered by the com- 
pany. While the Great Eastern remained 
at Berehaven, to take in her final stores of 
coal, the William Corry proceeded around 
the coast to Valentia, to Lay the shore 
end. She arrived off the harbor, July 
7th, and immediately prepared for her 
heavy task. This shore end was of tre- 
mendous size, weighing over eight tons to 
the mile. The cable was to be brought 
off on a bridge of boats, reaching from the 
ship to the foot of the clit'f. All the fish- 
ermen's boats were gathered from along 



the shore, while the British war-ship 
Racoon, which was guarding that jiart of 
the coast, sent up her boats to help, so 
that, as they all mustered in line, there 
were forty of them, making a long pon- 
toon-bridge ; and Irish boatmen with eager 
looks and strong hands were standing 
along the line to grasp the massive chain. 
All went well, and by one o'clock the cable 
was landed, and its end brought up the 
cliff to the station. The signals were 
found to be perfect, and the William Corry 
then slowly drew off to sea, unlimbering 
her stiff shore end, till she had cast over 
the whole thirty miles. At three o'clock, 
the next morning, she telegrajihed througli 
the cable that her work was done, and she 
had buoyed the end in water a hundred 
fathoms dcej). 

The joy of the inhabitants on witness- 
ing this scene was earnest and deep-seated, 
rather than demonstrative, after the les- 
son taught bj* last year's experience. The 
excitement was below, instead of above 
the surface. Nothing could prevent the 
scene being intensely dramatic, but the 
jircvailing tone of the drama was serious, 
instead of boisterous and triumphant. 
Speech-making, hiirrahing, jiublic congrat- 
ulations, and vaunts of confidence, were, 
as it seemed, avoided as if on purpose. 
The old crones (says an English paj>er) in 
tattered garments who cowered together, 
dudheen in mouth, their gaudy colored 
shawls tightly drawn over head and umlcr 
the chin — the barefooted bo^-s and girls, 
who by long practice walked over sharp 
and jagged rocks, which cut uji boots and 
shoes, with perfect impunity — the men at 
work uncovering the trench, and winding 
in single file up and down the hazardous 
path cut by the cablemen in the otherwise 
inaccessible rock — the patches of bright 
color furnished by the red petticoats and 
itloaks — the ragged garments, only kei)t 
from falling to pieces by bits of string ami 
tape — the good old parish priest, who exer- 
cises mild and gentle spiritual sway over 
the loviiig subjects of whom the ever-pop- 
ular Knight of Kerry is tlie temporal 
head, looking on benignly fmiii his car — 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



903 



the bright eyes, supple figures, and inno- 
cent faces of the peasant lasses, and the 
earnestly hopeful expression of all — made 
up a picture not easily described. 

On the thirteenth of July, the fleet was 
read to sail on its great errand, and lay 
the cable in the heart of the wide and 
deep ocean. Previously to the departure, 
however, a devotional meeting was held, 
participated in by the company, the offi- 
cers and hands, at which the enterprise 
was solemnly commended to the favor of 
God. In a short time after leaving the 
shores of Ireland, the Medway reached the 
buoj' to which the shore-end was attached, 
and immediately the operation of splicing 
that end with the main coil on board the 
Great Eastern was performed. 

At about three o'clock, p. m., the tele- 
graph fleet was on its way to Newfound- 
land, in the following order : The Terri- 
ble ahead of the Great Eastern on the 
starboard bow, the Medway on the port, 
and the Albany on the starboard quarter. 
The weather was thick and foggy, with 
heavj' rains. Signals were sent through 
the cabl^ on board of the Great Eastern 
and to the telegraph house at Valentia, 
and the two thousand four hundred and 
forty nautical miles were found perfect in 
condition, and only waiting their final 
destination in the vast womb of the ocean. 

All went well until noon of July 18th, 
when the first real shock was given to the 
success that had hitherto attended them, 
and caused considerable alarm. A foul 
flake took place in the after-tank. The 
engine was immediately turned astern, 
and the paying of the cable stopped. All 
hands were soon on the decks, and there 
learned, to their dismay, that the running 
and paying out of the coil had caught 
three turns of the flake immediately under 
it, carried them into the eye of the coil, 
fouling the toy-out and hauling up one- 
half turns from the outside, and five turns 
of the eye of the under flakes. This was 
stopped, fortunately, before entering the 
paying-out machines ; stoppers of hemp 
with chains were also put on near the 
wheel astern, and orders were given by 



Mr. Canning, to stand by to let go the 
buoy. This was not very cheering to 
hear ; but, though the calm and collected 
man insi^ired those around him with con- 
fidence that his skill and experience would 
extricate the cable from the danger in 
which it was placed, no fisliing line was 
ever entangled more than the rope when 
thrust up in apparently hopeless danger 
from the eye of the cable to the deck. 

There were at least five thousand feet 
of rope lying in this state, and in the 
midst of thick rain and increasing wind, 
the cable crew set to work to disentangle 
it. The Dolphin was there, too, patiently 
following the lights as they showed them- 
selves, the crew now passing them forward 
and now aft, until at last the character of 
the tangle was seen, and soon it became 
apjjarent that ere long the cable would be 
saved and uninjured down to the tank. 
Captain Anderson was at the taffrail, anx- 
iously watching the strain on the rope 
(they could scarcely make it out, the night 
was so dark), endeavoring to keep it up 
and down, going bn raising with paddle 
and screw. Iti view of the rise of the 
great ship, and the enormous mass she 
presented to the wind, the difficulty of 
keeping her stern, under the circum- 
stances, over the cable, can be appreci- 
ated. The port paddle-wheel was discon- 
nected, but afterward there was a shift 
of wind, and the vessel came-to the wrong 
waj'. 

Welcome voices were now heard passing 
the word aft from the tank, that the 
bights were cleared, and to pay out. Then 
the huge stoppers were quietly opened, 
and at 2 : 05 A. m., to the joy of all, the 
cable was once more being discharged. 
They veered it away in the tank to clear 
the screw, and the paddle-engines were 
slowed so as to reduce the speed of the 
ship to four and a half knots. During all 
this critical time, there was entire absence 
of noise and confusion. Everything was 
silently done, and the cable men and crew 
worked with heartj' good will. 

On the morning of Friday, at eight 
o'clock, July 27th, the ship arrived at 



904 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Heart's Content, tlie Americiin terniinu.s, 
the distance run being one thousand six 
hundred and sixty-nine miles, and the 
length of cable jiaid out, one thousand 
eight hundred and four miles. The aver- 
age speed of the shiji from the time the 
splice was made until tlie^' came in siglit 
of land was a little less than five nautical 
miles per hour, and the cable was paid out 
at an average of five and one-half miles 
per hour. The total slack was less tlian 
twelve per cent. The fleet was in con- 
stant communication with Valentia since 
tlic splice was made, July 13th, and 
news was daily received from Europe, 
whi(;h was posted up outside of the tele- 
graph otlice, for the information of all on 
board of the Great Eastern, and was sig- 
naled to the other ships. It would be 
difficult to describe the feelings with which 
Mr. Field, who, with his associates on 
board, had watched the progress of the 
undertaking with intense solicitude, day 
and night, — penned the following an- 
nouncement to his friends in New York, 
and which was received throughout the 
whole land with unbounded delight : — 

"Heart's Content, July 27. We 
arrived here at nine o'clock, this morning. 
All well. Thank Goil, the ni/ile is laid, 
and is in ^ierfcct worl;inij onlrr. 

CrRUS \V. FiELD." 

Strangely and happily enough, too, the 
first European tidings flashed across the 
cable to the western hemisphere, was, that 
a treaty of peace had just been signed 
between Austria and Prussia, and that 
the black war cloud wliich had gathered 
over all Europe was fast fleeing away ; — a 
fit celebration of the grandest of human 
enterprises, the successful establishment of 
telegraphic communication between the 
Old world and the New. 

Congratulatory despatches were immedi- 
ately forwarded, by Mr. Field, to the pres- 
ident of the United States, the secretary 
of state, and to the honorary directors of 
the Atlantic Telegrajdi Company. The 
queen of ICngland .sent her salutations to 
the president, as follows : '• 'J'be (,)Meen 



congratulates the President on the suc- 
cessful completion of an undertaking which 
she hopes m a \- serve as an additional bond 
of union between the United States and 
England." To this, the president re- 
sponded bj' saying: "The President of 
the United States acknowledges with ](ro- 
found gratification the receipt of Her 
^Majesty's dispatch, and cordially recijiro- 
cates the hope that the cable which now 
unites the eastern and western hemi- 
spheres may serve to strengthen and to 
perpetuate peace and amity lietween the 
Government of England and the Republic 
of the United States." 

Heart's Content, the American terminus 
of the cable, is a little fishing hamlet, 
hitherto unknown, but destined to an en- 
during reputation hereafter, as one of the 
most interesting geographical points in 
the history of the age. The bay on which 
it is situated is a very safe and capacious 
one, and on this account was selected. 

Among the comidimentary messages 
sent to Mr. Field, on the consummation of 
his great and magnificent scheme, was one 
which came to hand on Alonday, July 
30th, from M. de Lesseps, the renowned 
projector of the Suez Canal. It was 
dated in Alexandria, Egyjit, the same day, 
at half-past one o'clock, P. m., and reached 
Newfoundland at half-past ten, A. M. By 
looking at the globe, one can see over 
what a space that message (lew. Remark- 
ing upon the wonderful f.act, a New York 
)iapcr graphically said that it came from the 
farthest East, from the land of tlie Pha- 
raohs and Ptolemies; it passed along the 
shores of Africa, and under the Mediter- 
ranean, more than a thousand miles, to 
Malta; thence it leaped to the continent, 
and shot across Italy, an<l over the Alps, 
and then through France, under the Chan- 
nel, to London ; then across England and 
Ireland, till from the cliffs of Valentia it 
struck straight into the Atlantic, darting 
down the submarine mountain which lies 
off the coast, and over all the hills and 
valleys of the wat<Ty jilain, resting not 
till it touched the shore of the New AVorld. 
Thus, in its morning's flight, it had passed 



GREAT -AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



905 




ARRIVAL OF THE OREAT EASTERN AT HEART'S CCIXTENT, WITH THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 



over one-fourth of the earth's surface, 
and so far outstripped the sun- in his 
course, that, by the dial, it reached its 
destination three hours before it was sent ! 
Curiously enough, too, in this latter con- 
nection, it was found, when considering 
the propriety of not sending messages on 
Sunday, that, supposing no delay in trans- 
mission, Sunday in the United States is 
Saturday in Calcutta, and thus the adop- 
tion i)f such a rule would be — working east- 
ward and westward — to exclude Saturday, 
Sunday, and Monday, from telegraph 
operations. 

As illustrating the moral uses, too, sub- 
served bj- land and ocean telegraph lines 
connecting different countries and conti- 
nents, the following case, given in a New 
York journal — bj' no means an extreme 
case in this present day of increased tele- 
graphic facilities — will be found in point: 
A knavish Chinaman in California having 
contracted the barbarian vice of swindling, 
has been cheating sundry merchants in 
San Francisco out of eighteen thousand 
dollars, and, getting on board the Pacific 
Mail steamship, fled to the Central Flowery 
Kingdom. In this way he hoped to put 
between himself and those whom he had 
robbed, first, some ten thousand miles of 
ocean. But, a fehfjram from San Fran- 
cisco bears the tidings of his crime to New 
York. New York sends it liy cable across 
the Atlantic to London, London through 



France and under the Mediterranean to 
Alexandria, Alexandria by the Red Sea 
and Persian Gulf to Bombay, Bombay to 
Ceylon, and Cej'lon by the Peninsula and 
Oriental steamers to China. So that, 
when Hong-Kee trips lightly down the 
ship's gangway at Hong Kong or Shang- 
hai, dreaming of much opium and many 
alniond-ej'ed daughters of the Sun in the 
Land of Flowers, his placid soul will be 
disconcerted by the tap of a bamboo on 
his shoulder, and a voice of doom will 
murmur an ungentle summons in his ear. 
Poor Hong-Kee ! The bad morals of the 
Christians have corrupted him, and in the 
steam-engine of the Christians has he jiut 
his trust. But the literal ' chain-light- 
ning' of those same Christians is after 
him, to outstrip their steam-engine, and to 
teach him in sorrow and in shame how 
much better he might have done. 

Not less curious, in a scientific point of 
view, is the following incident, as related 
by Mr. Field, at the magnificent banquet 
given in his honor, in New York, on the 
triumphant completion of what has justly 
been pronounced the grandest of human 
enterprises. " The other day," said Mr. 
Field, in his speech on this occasion, "Mr. 
Lattimer Clark telegraphed from Ireland, 
across the ocean and back again, witli a 
hatter;/ formed in a hidi/'s tliimhle ! And 
now Jlr. Collett writes me from Heart's 
Content : " I have just sent my compli- 



906 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



inents to Doctor Gould, of Caniliridgo, 
who is at Valentiii, with a b.ittery com- 
posed of a gun cap, with a strip of zinc, 
excited hij a drop of water, the simjjle bulk 
of a tear/'" 

Too groat credit can never be awarded 
to Mr. Field, for his ])ersevering devotion 
to this enterprise, through ten years of 
disheartening failure. In the early stages 
of the enterprise, few encouraged him in 
his expectations, though all personally 
wished him well. On preparing, there- 
fore, for one of his trips across the Atlan- 
tic, in connection witli the business, one 
of liis friends said to him, " When shall 
we see you again ? " '' Not until I have 
laid tlic cable!" was Mr. Field's rc]ily. 
So, too, on presenting the subject to 
Lord Clarendon. The latter showed 
great interest and made many inquiries, 
but was rather startled at tlie mag- 
nitude of the proposed scheme, as well 



as at the confident tone of the projec- 
tors, and pleasantly askeil the lion-hearted 
man — 

" liut, sui)po,se you don't succeed ? Sup- 
pose you make the attempt and fail — your 
cable is lost in the sea — then what will 
you do ? " 

" Charge it to profit and loss, and go to 
work to lay another," was Jlr. Field's quick 
and characteristic response to his noble 
friend. 

On another occasion, when dining at 
the residence of ^Ir. Adams, the Ameri- 
can ambassador, in LoikIihi, he was seen 
for an instant to nod liis head. John 
Bright, who sat next to him, turned to 
him with a smile, and said, " I am glad to 
see you sleep ; / didn't hnnir that t/ou ever 
slept!" — a most pertinent and deserved 
tribute to the man whose indomitable faith 
and energy was finally crowned with im- 
mortal success. 



cv. 

COMPLETION OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.— 1869. 



Spikes of the Richest Gold and a Hammer of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Rail. — The Blows 
of the Sledge Telegraphed to All the Great Cities. — The Wide Continent Spanned with Iron from the 
Farthest East to the Golden Gate — Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. — Seven Days from 
New York to San Francisco. — Greatest Railroad Route on the Face of the Earth. — "Manifest Des- 
tiny "of tlie United States. — A Pacific Highway Agitated for Years — Its National Importance and 
Necessity. — Cliarters and Government Aid at Last. — The " Union " and "Central" Companies. — 
Natural Difficulties to be Overcome — Feats of Engineering Involved. — Triumphs of Science in this 
Respect. — Mountains Tunneled, Rivers Bridged. — Gulfs Spanned, Depths Fathomed. — Vastncss and 
Progress of the Work. — A Force of Twenty-five Thousand Men and Six Thousand Teams — First 
Train at the Top of the Sierras. — Pushing the Line to Completion. — Approach of the Two Grand 
Divisions. — Union at Promontory Point, Utah —Exultation Over the Victory. — Historic Scene in the 
Heart of America. — Offerings of Gold, Silver, Iron, and Laurel. — Telegram to President Grant. — Cel- 
ebration in the Principal Cities. — Easy Journey Around the World. 



"The Inst mil is laid— the last ppike driven— the Pacific Railroad is completed!"— Official Teleorau fbom Peomoktoet roiFT, 
OcTOHEK luth, ISliy. 







MOUNTAIN SCENE ON THE I'ACII-'K; RAILROAD. 



ELIEVEES in the "manifest destiny" 
of the universal Yankee nation were fa- 
vored with one of the most conchtsive and 
gratifying confirmations of their cherished 
theory, when that most stupendous work 
ever undertaken by man, the Construction 
of the Pacific Eailwaj', was finallj' consum- 
mated by the laying of the last rail and the 
memorable ceremony performed by officials 
of clasping together the iron girdle about 
the loins of the nation ; — in the winding of 
which mighty coil across the continent, 
mountains were tunneled which made 
one's head giddj' to gaze iipon ; rivers were 
bridged which, since the primeval daj-s of 
creation, had rolled in majestic solitude ; 
gulfs, frightful and tumultuous, were 
spanned ; frowning heights were climbed 
and leveled ; and abyssmal depths were 
fathomed. And all this was accomplished 
in a period of time, and on a scale of mag- 
nitiule, the recital of which is fairly calcu- 
lated to stagger credulity. 

Notwithstanding the necessity of such a 
line of communication had for years been 



908 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1.S7G. 



reppatedly urged, it was not until 1859 
that a bill was carried through congress, 
authorizing the grand scheme. This bill, 
— according to the Chicago Times' exhaust- 
ive account of the history of the enter- 
prise, which is here abridged, — comprised 
no less than three great lines, namely, the 
northern, the southern, and the central. 
But the breaking out of the civil war 
checked the enterprise. The a.stonishing 
development, however, of the precious 
metals in Nevada and the travel and traf- 
fic that inevitably followed, embodied for 
the mines of Californians that imperious 
need of a cheaper and easier conveyance, 
into a plan of a continental railwaj', which 
had always been popular there. 

The assumed impracticability of cross- 
ing the Sierras did not discourage a few 
daring, far-sighted engineers, prominent 
among whom was Mr. T. P. Renjamin, 
the character of whose surveys decided 
the state legislature to charter the Cen- 
tral Pacific railroad company, in 1802. 
In a short time, success crowned the ef- 
forts of the friends of the enterprise in 
congress; and so, in July, 18G2, the great 
continental railway from tlie Missouri to 
the Pacific was an assured undertaking. 
In 1805, forty miles were built; in 1866, 
two hundred anil sixt^'-five miles; in 
1867, two hundred and forty-five miles; 
in 1868, four hundred and twenty-five 
miles; in 1869, one hundred and five 
miles. East of Salt Lake City, the eleva- 
tion of the road averages about seven thou- 
sand feet above the sea. Most of the coun- 
try is very rough, destitute of wood and 
water, and a large portion of the way is 
through an alkali desert. Tremendous 
snow-storms in tlie mountains presented 
another groat difliiulty. 

The spirit of rivalry did its .share in 
stimulating the activity of the Union 
Pacific company. The efforts of this com- 
pany had so far languished during the ear- 
lier history of their corporation, that little 
was done till after the close of the war. 
The Central Pacific, however, immediately 
commenced work, so that, in January, 
1863, the first grading was done, — the 



occasion being signalized with great re- 
joicing as a general holiday, — and, even so 
early as June, 1864, thirty-one miles o£ 
track had lieen laid to New Castle, nearly 
one tliousand feet above the sea at the 
foot of the Sierras. But, owing to finan- 
cial difficulties, it was not until Scjiteniber, 
1806, that progress was made to Alta, sev- 
enty miles east of Sacramento, and nearly 
si.\ thousand feet above the sea. In No- 
vember following, the track reached Cisco, 
some six thousand feet above the sea, an 
average elevation of about one hundred 
feet per mile being overcome in twenty- 
three miles. 

Work on the Union Pacific did not 
commence till eighteen months after the 
Central had inaugurated their section of 
the enterprise. In the spring of 1867, 
when the snows had melted, the work was 
resumed by both comj)anies, with great 
vigor, the race being kejit up with an 
ardor that constantly gathered head. The 
Union was far ahead in respect to dis- 
tance, but they had to fight against con- 
tinually increasing diflficulties, while the 
Central had already overcome the great 
ones of their undertaking in crossing the 
Sierras, and could look forward to an open 
and eas}- route. The first passenger train 
reached the top of the Sierras, November 
30, 1867. By the time the western end 
of the route had reached the lower 
Truckce, one Imndred and forty miles 
east of Sacramento, the Union had reached 
a point in the Black Hills, five hundred 
miles west of Omaha. 

At the opening of the summer of 1S68, 
the two comjianies were nearly equally 
distant from Monument Point, at the 
head of Salt Lake, and the emulation be- 
tween the two gave rise to prodigious ef- 
forts. About twenty-five thousand men 
and six thousand teams were engar:cd 
along the route between the foot of the 
Sierras and Evans's pass. The competi- 
tion increased as they neared each other, 
and at last the struggle arose as to the 
jjoint of junction. The Central company 
wished Ogden fixed as the point cif junc- 
tion, and the Union rirgcd ^Monument 



GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



909 



Point ; the matter was at last settled by a 
decision in favor of the former. The dan- 
gers to which the laborers were subjected, 
and the imperious necessity of vigilant 
protection of the track and material of the 
road, were great and unceasing, owing to 
the inveterate hostility of the Indians. 
From Fort Kearney west, np the Platte 
river, to the foot of the Black Hills, the 
road was subject to a continual succession 
of fierce attacks. Several battalions of 
United States troops were scattered along 
the line, and found full employment in 
adequately guarding the object of their 
vigilance. 

That the completion of such a vast en- 
terprise, unparalleled in magnitude and 
grandeur, should be hailed as one of the 
most memorable achievements in the ma- 
terial progress of the countrj', was cer- 
tainly to be expected. Nor is it to be 
wondered at that the original pick and 
shovel employed in commencing such a 
work, should still be looked upon, by every 
patriot, with historic interest. They are 
carefully preserved, and bear the following 
inscriptions : 

" Pick that struck the first Mow on the 
Union Pacific railroad, Omaha, Decem- 
ber 2, 1863. Pickers: Thomas Acheson, 
Wilson F. Williams, George Francis Train, 
Peter A. Day." 

" Shovel used by George Saunders, to 
move the first earth in the Union Pacific 
railroad, Omaha, Neb., December 3, 1863. 
Shovelers : Alvin Saunders, governor of 
Nebraska ; B. E. B. Kennedy, ma3-or of 
Omaha; I. M. Palmer, mayor of Council 
Bluffs ; Augustus Kountze, director of 
U. P. R. R." 

The following table of distances on the 
two lines will show the magnitude of this 
great channel of continental communica- 
tion : From New York to Chicago, 911 
miles ; from Chicago to Omaha, Neb., 
491 miles. From Omaha, by the Union 
Pacific line, to Ogden, 1,030, and a branch 
of forty miles to Salt Lake City. From 
Ogden, by the Central Pacific line, 748 
miles. From Sacramento to San Fran- 
cisco, 120 miles. Thus, the grand dis- 



tance, by the iron track, from Omaha to 
San Francisco, is 1,898 miles; from Chi- 
cago to San Francisco, 2,389; from New 
York to San Francisco, 3,377 miles. 

In less than one-half or one-third of the 
time predicted at the outset of the enter- 
prise, the road was completed, — a great 
feat, indeed, when it is considered that 
the workmen operated at such a distance 
from their base of supplies, and that the 
materials for construction and subsistence 
had to be transported under such a vari- 
ety of difficulties. Thus, the transporta- 
tion of one hundred and ten thousand tons 
of iron rails, one million fish-plates, two 
million bolts, fifteen million spikes, three 
and a half million cross-ties, and millions 
of feet of timber not estimated, for the 
construction of roads, culverts and bridges, 
made one of the minor items of the ac- 
count. The moving of engines and ma- 
chinery for stocking manufactories, of 
materials for foundries and buildings of 
every kind, not to speak of the food for an 
army of thousands of workmen, all of 
which belong to the single account of 
transpoi'tation, may also give an impres- 
sion of the activitj' and expense required 
in bringing such a road to completion in 
so short a time. 

Of course the irregularities of surface 
characterizing a distance so immense, and 
particularly that portion of the line run- 
ning among the Sierra Nevada mountains, 
necessitated tunneling, cutting, and tres- 
tle-bridging, on a large scale. The well- 
known Bloomer Cut, sixty-three feet deep 
and eight hundred feet long, is through 
cemented gravel and sand, of the consist- 
ency of solid rock, and only to be moved 
by blasting. The trestle-bridging con- 
stituted one of the most important features 
in the construction of the road, and the 
work, on completion, was pronounced of 
the most durable description. Among the 
most famous of these structures may be 
mentioned the trestle and truss bridge, 
Clipper ravine, one hundred feet high; 
the Long ravine, Howe truss bridge and 
trestle, one hundred and fifteen feet high ; 
and the trestle at Secrettown, one thou- 



910 



OUR FIRST CENTUR v.— 1776-1876. 



sand feet loiifj, and Mty to ninety feet 
high. The highest engineering skill was 
demanded, from first to hist, and the tri- 
umphs of science, in this respect, were 
complete. 

The total mileage of the roads Imilt un- 
der the direct authority and by the aid of 
the national guvcrninent, was two thou- 
sand four hundred miles. The govern- 
ment sulisidy in aid of these works, 
amounted to ahout ■^(54,000,000, of six per 
cent, currency bonds, the companies being 
also authorized to issue an equal amount 
of bonds. ]?otli companies had also a land 
grant from congress, in alternate sections, 
equal to twelve tliousand eight hundred 
acres per mile. 

Ninety million dollars was the cost of 
the Union Pacific railroad, up to 1869; 
that of the Central Pacific, seventy-five 
million. This enormous sum, especially 
in its relation to the government indebt- 
edness, alarmed some timid economists. 
Put a suflieient answer to their arguments 
was, that millions upon millions of acres 
of government lands, hitherto lying idle, 
would come into the market, and very 
speedily appear as produi'tive farms tilled 
by the hand of industrj' ; that towns, vil- 
lages, cities, manufacturing, mining, and 
all the apjiliances and evidences of mate- 
rial progress, would at once take a start, 
the wealth of the Fast be j)oured into the 
AVest, and emigration westward populate 
territories and turn them into states as if 
by magic. By means of this new and 
wonderful highwaj', the distance from 
New York to San Francisco would be 
traversed by passengers in six or seven 
days, instead of three weeks or more via 
i'auama. From San Francisco to Japan 
is nineteen days, or twenty-five from New 
York, and some thirty-six from London, a 
speed exceeding that of the Pritish mails 
to Yokohama, vui Suez, liy u]) wards of 
twenty days. And thus, San Francisco, 
on the Pacific, the travel and commerce of 
the nations of Western Europe with the 
hundreds of millions of people of Eastern 
Asia, and the great island of Australia, 
would pass over the railway, — the land 



that built it thereby reaping the benefit of 
being the world's highway. 

On the tenth of May, 1SG9, the grand his- 
toric event took place at Promontory Point, 
Utah, of uniting the two great divisions of 
the trans-continental railway. Early in 
the morning, says the Chicago Tribune, 
Governor Stanford and party from the Pa- 
cific coast were on the ground ; and at half- 
past eight, an engine with a ]ialace and two 
passenger cars arrived from the east bring- 
ing Vice-President Durant and directors 
Duff and Dillon, of the Union Pacific rail- 
road, with other distinguished visitors, 
including several Mormon apostles. Both 
parties being in readiness, the ties were 
thrown down on the open sp.ice of about 
one hundred feet, and the enij)loyes of 
the two companies approached with the 
rails to fill the gap. Jlr. Stenbridge, sub- 
contractor, who had been in charge of the 
building of the Central I'acific from the 
laying of the first rail on the bank of the 
Sacramento, commanding a party of Chi- 
nese track-layers, advanced from the west 
with assistant - general superintendent 
Corning. 

The Chinamen, conscious that the 
strangers from the far east were watch- 
ing their movements with curious eyes, 
wielded the pick, shovel and sledge, with 
consummate dexterity' ; but their faces wore 
an apiiearanee o{ unconcern and indiffer- 
ence wonderful if real, and not the less so 
if affected. White laborers from the east 
did their best work, but with more indica- 
tion of a desire to i>roduce an effect, and 
at eleven o'clock the European and Asiatic 
private soldiers of civilization stood face 
to face in the heart of America, each 
proudly conscious that the work was well 
done, and each exultant over so noble a 
victory. Engine No. 119 from the Atlan- 
tic, and Jupiti'r, No. 60, from the Pacific, 
each decorated with flags and evergreens 
for the occasion, then approached within a 
hundred feet from opj)osite directions, and 
saluted with exultant .screams. Superin- 
tendent Vandenburgh now attached the 
telegraph wires to the last rail, so that 
each blow of the sledge should be recorded 



GREAT A:^D memorable EVENTS. 



911 



on every connecting telegraph instrument 
between San Francisco and Portland, Me. 
It was also arranged so that corresponding 
blows should be struck on the bell in the 
city hall at San Francisco, and the last 
one fire a cannon in the batteries at Fort 
Point. General Safford, in behalf of the 
territory of Arizona, presented a spike 
composed of iron, gold and silver, as an 
offering by Arizona, saying : 



be struck. Everj' head was uncovered in 
reverential silence, while Rev. Dr. Todd, 
of Pittstield, Mass., offered up a brief and 
deeply impressive invocation. 

The magnificent tie of laurel, on which 
was a commemorative plate of silver, was 
brought forward, put in place, and Doctor 
Harkness, in behalf of the state of Califor- 
nia, presented Governor Stanford the gold 
spike. President Stanford, of the Central 
Pacific railroad, responded, accepting the 
golden and silver tokens, predicting the 
day as not far distant when three tracks 




C0.MrLETlOX OF THE PACIFIC K.ilLKOAD. 

"Ribbed with iron, clad in silver, and 
crowned ivith gold, Arizona jir^sents her 
offering to the enterprise that has banded 
every continent and dictated a new path- 
way to commerce." 

The crowd fell back at the request of 
General Casement, and the artist for the 
Union Pacific railroad photographed the 
scene, with the locomotives confronting 
each other, and Chinese and Caucasian 
laborers confnmting the work. It was 
now announced that the last blow was to 



"Zi. — 



>'^- 



would be found necessary to accommodate 
the traffic which would seek transit across 
the continent, and closing with the happy 
summons — " Koir, gentlemen, with your 
assistance, we will proceed to lay the last 
rail, the last tie, and drive the last spike." 
General Dodge, in behalf of the Union 
Pacific railroad, responded as follows : 
'■'Gentlemen, — The great Benton prophe- 



912 



OUR FIRST CENTUllV.— 1770-1876. 



sied that some day a granite statuf of C!<v 
luiulxis would lie erected on the liigliest 
peak of tlie Rocky mountains pointing 
westward, denoting this as the great route 
across the continent. You liave made 
that prophecy this daj'. Accept this as 
tlie way to India." Mr. Tuttle, from 
Nevada, presented a silver spike on behalf 
of the citizens of that state, with the fol- 
lowing remarks: "To the iron of the East 
and the gold of the West, Nevada adds 
her link of silver, to span the continent 
and wed the oceans." Thereupon, Super- 
intendent Coe, in behalf of the Pacific 
Union express, presented the silver ham- 
mer, or sledge, with which to drive the 
last spike. 

Governor Stanford and Vice-President 
Durant advanced, took in hand the sledge, 
and drove the spike, while the multitude 
stood silent. Mr. Miles, of Sacramento, 
who was chairman of the meeting, an- 
nounced the great work done ! The si- 
lence of the multitude was now broken, 
and a prolonged shout went forth, which, 
while it yet quivered on the gladdened air, 
was caught up by the willing lightning, 
and borne to the uttermost parts of the 
earth. Cheer followed cheer for the union 
of the Atlantic and Pacific, the two Pui-ific 
railroad companies and their officers, the 
president of the United States, the Star 
S|)angled Banner, the laborers, etc. A 
telegram announcing the grand consumma- 
tion was sent at once to President Grant, 
and one to the associated newspaper press 
immediately followed, worded thus : 

" The last rail is laid / The last spiJ^e 
driven. ' The Pacific Rail road is com- 
pleted! The point of junction is 1,080 
miles west of the Missouri river, and 090 
miles east of Sacramento City." 

There was a great deal of interest and 
ex<:itement in Washington, ami a large 
crowd assembled at the telegraph office, 
as soon as it was known that tin; driving 
of the last spike would be announced by 
the wires. Mr. Tinker, the manager, fixed 
a magnetic bull in a conspicuous place, 
where all ])resent could witness the per- 
formance, and connected the same with 



' the main lines, notifying the various 
offices throughout the country, that lie 
was ready. New Orleans, New York and 
Boston, instantly answered that they were 
ready. Soon afterward, many of the orti- 
ces in different parts of the country be- 
gan to make all sorts of inquiries of tlie 
office at Omaha, from which point the cir- 
cuit was to be started. That office replied : 

" To everybody : Keep quiet. When 
the last spike is driven at Promontory 
Point, we will say " Done." Don't break 
the circuit, but watch for the signals of 
the blows of the hammer." 

After .some little delay, the instruments 
were all adjusted, and 2.21, in the after- 
noon. Promontory Point said to the peo- 
ple congregated in the various telegraph 
oflices — "Almost ready. Hats off; jirayer 
is being offered." A silence for the j)rayer 
ensued. At 2.40 the bell tapjied again, 
and the office at the Point said — " We 
have got done praying. The spike is 
about to be presented." Chicago replied 
— "We understand. All are ready in the 
East." I'romontorj' Point — "All ready 
now. The spike will soon be driven. The 
signal will be three dots for the com- 
mencement of the blows." 

For a moment the instrument was 
silent, and then the hammer of the mag- 
net taj)ped the bell, otic, tn-o, three — the 
signal. Another pause of a few seconds, 
and the lightning came flashing eastward, 
vibrating two thousand foiirluindred mile.s, 
lietween the junction of the two roads and 
Washington, and the blows of the liani- 
mer upon the spike were delivered in- 
stantly, in telegrajphic accents, on the bell 
in Washington. At 2.47, in the after- 
noon. Promontory I'oint gave tlie signal, 
" DoxK ! " — the announcement that the 
continent was spanned with iron. The 
time of the event in San Francisco was 
11.45. in the forenoon. A telegraph wire 
had been attached to a fifteen-inch gun, 
and as the first stroke on the last spike 
was telegraphed from Promontory Point, 
the gun was fired by electricity, and by 
the same agent all the fire-bells in the city 
were rung. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



913 



The news of the completion of the road 
created, of course, great enthusiasm in all 
the cities of California. In San Francisco, 
the event was celebrated in a manner long 
to be remembered. The day was ushered 
in by a salute of one hundred guns, and 
congratulatory messages were transmitted 
to the directors of the Central and Union 
roads by the " California Pioneers." All 
the Federal forts in the harbor fired sa- 
lutes, the bells being rung and the steam 
whistles blown at the same time. Busi- 
ness was suspended, nearly every citizen 
exhibiting a hearty interest in the demon- 
strations. The procession was the largest 
and most imposing ever witnessed in San 
Francisco. In addition to the state mili- 
tia, all the available United States troops 
participated in the pageant, while the 
civic societies turned out with full ranks. 
The shipping was dressed in fine style — 
both the city and harbor, indeed, present- 
ing a magnificent sight. During the day, 
the principal buildings were festooned 
with the banners of every nation, and the 
streets were thronged with an excited and 
joyous people. At night, the whole city 
was brilliantly illuminated. 

At Sacramento, the event was observed 
with marked demonstrations. The city 
was crowded with a multitude of people 
from all parts of the state and Nevada, to 
participate in or witness the festivities, 
particularly the grand odd-fellows' proces- 
sion. The lines of travel to and from Sac- 
ramento were thrown open to the public 
free, and an immense number of people 
took advantage of this arrangement and 
flocked thither. The Central Pacific com- 
pany had thirty locomotives gaily decked, 
and as the signal gun was fired announc- 
ing the driving of the last spike of the 
road, the locomotives opened an overpow- 
ering chorus of whistles, all the bells and 
steam whistles of the city immediately 
joining in the deafening exhibition. 

In Chicago, the celebration was the 
most successful affair of the kind that 
ever took place in that city, and. probably, 
in the West, although it was almost en- 
tirely impromptu. The procession was 
58 



unique in appearance and immense in 
length, being, at the lowest estimate, four 
miles, and representing all classes, associ- 
ations and trades. During the moving of 
the procession, Vice-President Colfax, who 
was visiting the city, received the follow- 
ing dispatch, dated at Promontory' Point : 
"The rails were connected to-day. The 
prophecy of Benton is a fact. This is the 
way to India." A very interesting feat- 
ure in the procession was an array of mail- 
wagons with post-office employes, and sev- 
eral tons of mail matter in bags, labeled 
and marked as if bound for some of the 
large cities both on this side and beyond 
the Pacific ocean. Some of these were 
marked as follows: 'Victoria, Australia; ' 
'Washington, Oregon (G. D. P.-O.) ; ' 
' Yeddo, Japan ; ' ' Pekin, China (G. D. 
P.-O.);' 'Golden City, Colorado;' 'Den- 
ver, Colorado;' 'Santa Fe, New Mexico;' 
' Hong Kong, China, via Chicago ; ' ' Yo- 
kohama, Japan.' In the evening, Vice- 
President Colfax, Lieut. Gov. Bross, and 
others, addressed a vast assembly, speak- 
ing eloquently of the great era in Ameri- 
can history ushered in by the event of the 
day. The marine display was also v«ry 
fine. 

On the announcement of the completion 
of the road in New York, the mayor or- 
dered a salute of one hundred guns, and 
himself saluted the mayor of San Fran- 
cisco with a dispatch conceived in the 
most jubilant spirit, — informing him that 
"our flags are now flying, our cannon are 
now booming, and in old Trinity a Te 
Deum imparts thankful harmonies to the 
busy hum about her church walls." The 
Chambers of Commerce of the two cities 
also exchanged congratulations, the New 
York chamber recognizing in the new 
highway an agent that would not only 
" develop the resources, extend the com- 
merce, increase the power, exalt the dig- 
nity and perpetuate the unity of our re- 
public, but in its broader relations, as the 
segment of a world-embracing circle, di- 
rectly connecting the nations of Europe 
with those of Asia, would materially facili- 
tate the enlightened and advancing civil- 



914 



OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ization of our age." The services in Trin- 
ity were conducted with great solemnity, 
in the presence of a crowded congregation. 
After prayer, and the reading of a portion 
of the Episcopal service, the organ pealed 
forth in its grandest fullness and majestj', 
and, as the assembly dispersed, the church 
chimes added to the joyousness of the oc- 
casion by ringing out "Old Hundred," the 
"Ascension Carol," and the national airs. 

In Phihidelphia, the authorities im- 
provised a celebration so suddenly, that 
the ringing of the bells on Independence 
Hall, and at the various fire stations, was 
mistaken for a general alarm of fire, till 
the news was announced. The sudden 
flocking of the people to the state-house 
resembled that which followed the recep- 
tion of the news of Lee's surrender to 
Grant. In many other towns and cities 
throughout the union, the event was cele- 
brated with great spirit. Even as far east 
as Springfield, Mass., the jubilee spirit 
was carried out. The entire force of work- 
men of Wason's car mmufactory in that 
ritj' formed a procession, headed b\' a band 
and accompanied by a battery, and marched 
from the shops of the company through 
the principal streets, each man bearing 
some tool or implement of his trade. 
Banners bearing ' Our cars unite the Atlan- 
tic and Pacific' ' Four hundred car builders 
celebrate the opening of the Pacific Rail- 
road,' ' For San Francisco, connecting with 
ferry to China,' etc., were conspicuous. 

Returning to the scenes at Omaha, that 
interesting and important point on this 
trans-continental highway, the day was 
there observed by such an outpouring of 
the people as had never before been 
equaled. The morning trains from the 
west brought the fire companies and the 
masonic fraternity from Fremont, and 
large delegations from towns and settle- 
ments as far west as North Platte. Be- 
fore noon, the streets were filled with a 
multitude anxiously awaiting the signal 
from Capitol hill, where a park of artillery 
was stationed in the neighborhood of the 
observatory, to enable it to fire a salute 
the moment the telegraphic signals an- 



nounced that the last spike had been 
driven. A grand procession was one of 
the marked features of the day ; and, at 
about half-past one, the booming of one 
hundred guns, the ringing of bells, and 
the shrieking of the whistles of steamers 
and locomotives, proclaimed that Omaha 
and Sacramento were forever united by 
iron bands, and that now had been opened 
a highway from the gates of the east to 
the realms of sunset itself. 

Thus, in the consummation of this 
mightiest work of utility ever undertaken 
by man, a journey around the world be- 
came a tour both easy and brief. The cit}' 
of San Francisco could be reached from 
New York, in less than seven days, run- 
ning time. Arrived there, the finest 
ocean steamers in the world, each one of 
some four or five thousand tons, awaited 
the traveler, to take him, in twenty-one 
days, or less, to Yokohama, and thence, in 
six days more, to any part of China. 
From Hong Kong to Calcutta required 
some fourteen days by several lines of 
steamers touching at Singapore, Ce^-lon, 
Madras, or ports on the coast of Burmah. 
From Calcutta, a railroad runs far up into 
the north of India, on the borders of 
Cashmere and Affghanistan, and running 
through northern India, Benares, Alla- 
habad, etc. Another road intersects at 
Allahabad, more than six hundred miles 
above Calcutta, running some six hundred 
miles to Bombay, where it connects with 
the overland route to and from Egypt, in 
twelve or thirteen days by steamer and 
rail from Bombay to Cairo. From Cairo, 
almost any port in Europe on the Medi- 
terranean could be reached in from three to 
five days, and home again in twelve days 
more, making the actual traveling time 
around the world only seventy-<'ight days. 

More wonderful still, a trans-<ontinental 
train, which left New York early on the 
morning of June 1st, 1876, reached San 
Francisco at twenty-five minutes past nine, 
June 4th, in the morning; thus accom- 
plishing the journey in eighty-three hours 
and twenty minutes, without stoppages 
and without accident. 



CVI. 

NATIONAL PEACE JUBILEE AND MUSICAL FESTIVAL, 

IN BOSTON, IN HONOR OF THE RESTORATION 

OF THE UNION OF THE STATES.— 1869. 



Ten Thousand Singers, an Orchestra of One Thousand Instruments, and Tens of Thousands of Spec- 
tators, in the Coliseum, an Immense Building Erected for the Occasion. — Attendance of President 
Grant. — Sublime and Inspiring Harmonies. — Most Majestic Musical Demonstration of Modern Times. 
— Origin of the Jubilee. — P. S. Gilmore: His Zeal and Enthusiasm. — All Discouragements Overcome. 
— Magnificent Programme. — Splendor of the Coliseum. — It Covers Nearly Pour Acres. — Inauguration 
Ceremonies. — View of the Audience. — Scene of Surpassing Enchantment. — Beauty of the Decora- 
tions. — Overtures, Choruses, Anthems, Etc. — Parepa Rosa, Phillipps, Ole Bull — Their Professional 
Triumphs. — Zerrahn, Tourjee, Eichberg. — The Famous "Anvil" Chorus. — Chiming the City Bells. 
— Novel Commingling of Artillery with Music — Tremendous Ovation to Grant. — Half a MilHon 
People in the City — Testimonial to Mr. Gilmore — Last Day : Concert by Ten Thousand Children. 
— Triumphant Success of the Jubilee. 



"Let uahave peace! "— Geneeal Grant, in his Letteb accepting the Peesidential Nomination. 



OUR long and welcome years of peace had been enjoyed by the American people, 
since the greatest of civil wars ever waged suddenly ceased its 
wasting horrors, by the surrender of the army of Lee to General 
Grant, and that of Johnston to General Sherman. But, as yet, no 
special commemorative celebration of the momentous event had 
taken place in any part of the land — except that outburst of joy 
and satisfaction in all parts, with which the final grounding of 
arms was greeeted. A happy local conception for supplying this 
omission, to some extent, was that of the well-known organizer of 
musical bands and leader of instrumental concerts, Mr. P. S. Gil- 
more, of Boston. His plan, or programme, was that of a Grand 
National Peace Jubilee in that city, on the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 
and 19th of June, 1869, — the grandest outpouring of sublime and patriotic music, ever 
heard upon the American continent. It was to be a demonstration which, in magnitude 
and splendor, would represent the greatest cause for national rejoicing which the Amer- 
ican people were ever called upon to celebrate, and in which the glad voices of a 
reunited nation should mingle in one common song of thanksgiving to the Almighty, 
for the return of those blessings which years of terrible strife had withheld ; — an occa- 
sion which should bring together, in fraternal greeting, the leading men of the republic, 
throughout all its borders, and, aside from its imposing significance as the first national 
re-union since the close of the war, should also be the greatest feast of inspiring har- 
mony — majestic choruses, anthems of adoration, military and patriotic compositions, 




916 



OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 177(M87G. 



oratorio and syinijhony, and tlie divinest 
airs from Mozart and Meyerbeer — ever 
heard in any part of the world. 

The choruses, it was furtlier proposed, 
should be performed by ten to fifteen 
thousand voices, comprising the very best 
singers obtainable ; the orchestra to con- 
sist of one thousand players, including 
the leading bands and most skilKul musi- 
cians in the United States ; also, a vast 
and powerful organ, together with the 
aci-onipanying effects of artillery, chiming 
of bells, and otiier accessories. The whole 
to be held in an immense coliseum, capa- 
ble of accommodating iiftj- thousand per- 
sons, and to be magnificently decorated 
with historical emblems of state and na- 
tional progress since the formation of the 
Union. 

So vast and novel an undertaking wa8 
naturally looked upon somewhat distrust- 
fully, at first, by those to whom it was 
unfolded. One of the warmest of Mr. 
Gilmore's friends, on listening to an ex- 
position of the plan, remarked, " Why, 
Gilmore, that is an idea fit for an emperor, 
and it will take an emi)eror to carry it 
out." " Then,"' laughingly responded Mr. 
Gilmore, " I must become an emperor." 
Discouraged and ridiculed bj' others, he 
never flagged for a moment in energetic- 
ally urging the co-operation of influential 
men in behalf of his plan, and gave wide 
pulilicity to it, from one end of the land 
to the other. At length, ojjposition began 
to die away ; men of patriotism and 
wealth pledged themselves to the enter- 
prise ; letters strongly endorsing it were 
received from eminent oHicials ; and prom- 
ises of participation freely flowed in from 
musicians and musical societies. An as- 
sociation was now formed of prominent 
gentlemen, conspicuous in political, pro- 
fessional, and business circles, for thorough 
and ett'ecti\'e work, in forwarding the jiroj- 
ert to a speedy and complete consumma- 
tion. 

On the 29th of March, work on tlie great 
building was commenced, and it soon grew 
up to its full proi)ortions, majestic in size 
and strength, — the largest edifice that had 



ever been erected on this continent. The 
size of the building was tiiree hundred 
feet by five hundred; the height of its 
roof, one hundred feet, and of its side 
walls thirty-six ; and the jiromenade was 
more than a fourth of a mile in length. 
The interior was gorgeously decorated ; 
folds of blue, brown and gold, depending 
from the galleries, and rich frescoings and 
many-tinted banners everywhere meeting 
the eye. On the side arches, colossal 
angels borcj up the inscription " Peace," 
and over the central arch was the Song of 
the Annunciation, " Glory to God in the 
Highest, Peace on Earth, Good Will 
toward Men." In the rear of these arches, 
on each flank of the organ, appeared me- 
dallions, one rejircsenting St. Cecilia, at- 
tended by heavenly beings, who are listen- 
ing to her playing, and the other repre- 
senting David and his harp. The great 
roof was supported by four ranges of 
pillars, eighteen in each range. Those 
which ran along the front of the galleries 
bore each the coat-tif-arms of a State of 
the Union, with flags rayed from it, and 
an eagle above ; while on the two central 
ranges of pillars the banners bore the 
colors of foreign nations, the portraits of 
great composers, and other emblems. The 
main ceiling was hung with tri-colored 
streamers, and the faces of the galleries 
were elegantly frescoed. The end of the 
wall behind the spectators was also superb 
in its adornments, including a mighty 
Angel of Peace, with her right hand 
raised, and holding forward the symbols 
of harmony and peace, while with her 
left hand she waved behind her the 
sanguinary impKnu'Uts of war. Tliecoat- 
of-arins of Mas.sachusetfs and the city seal 
of Boston appeared on either flank. The 
building covered some three or four acres. 
As the day appointed for the opening 
services a])proached, the interest in the 
event became intense in every part of the 
country, and Boston was crowded as it 
never had been before by hosts of strangers. 
Everybody and everything wore a holiday 
appearance. Citizens from every State in 
the Union were there. 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



917 



At about three o'clock in the afternoon, 
the opening exercises of the celebration 
coinmenceJ as follows : Prayer, by Rev. 
E. E. Hale ; address of welcome, by Mayor 
Shurtleff ; oration, by Hon. A. H. Rice. 
But it was the musical feature of the 
occasion for which the tens of thousands 
gathered together in that vast and mag- 
nificent scene were an.xiously waiting. 
The immense amphitheater, two hundred 
feet in depth from the front of the orches- 
tra by three hundred feet in width, was 
filled to its utmost capacity with the ten 
thousand ladies and gentlemen who formed 
the grand chorus, and its base or front 
center was occupied by the orchestra of 
one thousand instruments. Be- 
hind the orchestra was the big 
drum, eight feet in diameter and 
eight feet high, and, further 
back, beyond the central seats 
of the choir, rose the organ, 
thirty feet in height. A look 
at the orchestra from the ex- 
treme north end of the building 
presented a sight witnessed only 
once in a life-time. 

The greatest celebrity noticed 
as j'et among the musicians was 
Carl Rosa, who was seated 
among the violins, and beside 
whom there was a vacant chair. 
Presently there was burst of 
cheers, as the tall, graceful, and 
dignified form of Ole Bull was 
seen wending his way down from the back 
to take his seat as the leader of the violin- 
ists. And now there was a perfect torrent 
of applause, as Mr. Gilmore advanced to 
open the programme. It was a proud 
moment for him, as he stood there, to 
reflect that this, the greatest of musical 
festivals, sprang up under his magic wand. 
Another warm welcome was in store for 
Mr. Eichberg, Mr. Zerrahn, Mr. Tourjee, 
Madame Parepa-Rosa, Miss Phillipps, and 
other leaders, as they made their appear- 
ance. 

Luther's great choral, '• God is a castle 
and defense," began the grand perform- 
ances, and as, in magnificent strength 



and beauty, the vast volume of pure sound 
arose from ten thousand voices and a 
thousand instruments, the grandeur of the 
effect was indescribable. To this suc- 
ceeded the Tannhauser overture, exciting 
and entrancing the senses and filling the 
soul with weird and peculiar pleasure ; and 
then came the " Gloria," from Mozart's 
Twelfth Mass. In Gounod's "Ave Maria," 
Madame Parepa-Rosa made her appear- 
ance as the first soloist of the jubilee. 
She was clad in faultless white, and re- 
ceived a tremendous ovation. The accom- 
paniment of two hundred chosen violins, 
led by Bull, Carl Rosa, Schultze, Suck, 
Meisel, Eichberg, and others, began sweet- 




ly, thrillingly. and tenderly, adding to the 
anxiety of the audience. Suddenly a note, 
clear, sublime, and heard above all else and 
to the farthest corner of the hall, began the 
"Ave Maria," which the prima donna sang 
with matchless skill. In this, as also in 
the beautiful " Inflammatus," she was en- 
cored with a fervor such as no woman ever 
saw manifested by an audience before. 
The scene was enchanting. 

At the conclusion of the first part of 
the concert, the " Star Spangled Banner " 
was given with grand and overpowering 
effect, producing the wildest excitement 
in the audience. The choral combinations 
of the parts used in the piece were very 



918 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



ingenious, and, in addition to tliese, the 
aid of a great military band, of an immense 
drum corps, and of artillery, was given to 
the chorus, orchestra and organ. The 
nvtillery firing, by means of electricity, 
was a novel and most striking feature in 
this piece, as was also the ringing of the 
bells of the city iu unison, from the tele- 
graph stand. 

In the second part, the "Hymn of 
Praise," composed for the occasion by Dr. 
0. W. Holmes, and set to the music of 
Keller's American Hymn, was the first 
piece, and was beautifully and nobly exe- 
cuted. After this came Rossini's overture 
to William Tell, the performance of which 
was pronounced to be the sublimest orches- 
tral rendering ever given in America — 
true, wonderful, and lovely, revealing in 
most remarkable beauty, the noble melo- 
dies and harmonies of the composition. 
After the " Coronation March," from Mey- 
erbeer, came the " Anvil Chorus " from 
" II Trovatore," producing a tremendous 
sensation among the audience and receiv- 
ing an uproarious encore. The pictur- 
esque hundred firemen, in black pants, red 
shirts, and white caps, did their duty 
admirably, beating their anvils with fine 
effect, and with such precision as not to 
miss a note amid the rapid cadences which 
the orchestra gave with such force. " My 
Country, 'tis of Thee," with the same 
novel accessories as the " Star Spangled 
Banner," concluded the first day's concert 
most appropriately, the audience joining 
in the last stanza with magnificent effect. 
The hundred anvils were ranged in four 
rows, extending from near the front of the 
platform to the back of the orchestra stage. 
No words can adequately describe the 
transporting effect of this first day's per- 
formance upon the thousands assembled 
under that vast roof. A distinguished 
gentleman sent the following telegram to 
his wife, at the close of the concert: 
'• Nothing like it in a life-time. Will 
make any sacrifice to have j-ou here Thurs- 
day. Come by express train." 

The second day of the jubilee was ren- 
dered still more exciting and memorable 



by the presence of the chief magistrate of 
the nation. General Grant. The popular 
success of the great national festival prov- 
ed, under these circumstances, absolutely 
enormous. The Common was covered with 
people, and the streets were so crowded 
that motion was almost impossible. The 
military marched with much difliculty 
along a portion of the route, and around 
the coliseum the mass of people became so 
dense all day, that it was difficult to ap- 
proach the doors. Many of the hotels and 
restaurants were even forced to lock their 
doors, to keep out the hungry multitude 
whom the}' could not supply. 

A constant ovation attended the presi- 
dent's reception until he reached the 
coliseum, and there he found acres of 
humanity waiting his entrance. The par- 
lor to which the illustrious guest was con- 
ducted exhibited most elegant taste, in 
keeping with all the appointments of the 
magnificent edifice throughout. The walls 
were tinted and paneled in fresco ; dra- 
pery, and lace curtains, and cornices en- 
riched the windows ; beautiful carpeting 
covered the floor ; splendid sets of black 
walnut furniture were provided ; and then 
there were rustic baskets filled with the 
choicest cut flowers suspended from nu- 
merous points, elegant and sjiacious mir- 
rors and choice paintings hung upon the 
walls, and superb works of art contributed 
to the admirable tout ensemble of the 
apartment. Here the distinguished guest 
received the courtesies of the originator of 
the jubilee and his colleague, after which 
he proceeded to the audience hall. 

As the president passed down the cen- 
ter aisle of the building to his seat, arm 
in arm with Governor Claflin, followed by 
Admirals Farragut and Hudson, Commo- 
dore Winslow, Secretary Boutwell, Mayor 
Shurtleff, and others, the vast assembly 
started to their feet as if by one common 
impulse, and while the hero stood, hat in 
hand, bowing to the might}- throng, a 
cheer went up from sixti/ thousand voices, 
and filled the far-extended structure, like 
the mighty roar of the ocean. For full 
five minutes were these cheers continued 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE E^^NTS. 



919 



from audience and chorus and orchestra, 
accompanied by the waving of thousands 
of handkerchiefs in the hands of fair 
women. In the midst of this scene of 
unparalleled enthusiasm, the powerful or- 
tran thundered forth the strains of " See 
the Conquering Hero Comes," and then, 
as the music progressed, at a signal from 
Mr. Gilmore's baton, ten thousand souls, 
in colossal chorus, gave voice to the words 
of that welcoming anthem. The climax 
of the Week of Festival was now fairly 
reached. 

In compliment to the president, the 
" Star Spangled Banner " was introduced 
between the two parts of the programme ; 
and to this was added the "Anvil Chorus," 
with the original one hundred anvils and 
the one hundred red-shirted firemen to 
beat them — and this, with the adjuncts of 
cannon and bells, threw the audience into 
a frenzy of rapturous delight. There was 
more classical music on this occasion than 
on the day previous, but the president 
appeared to prefer the more popular patri- 
otic airs, and the firing of guns by elec- 
tricity appeared to interest him much. 
This battery of Parrott guns, placed im- 
mediately within the coliseum, were ma- 
nipulated in front of the conductor's stand, 
the process being that of touching, at the 
proper moment, the keys of an electrical 
instrument, to which the guns were con- 
nected by wires, precisely as the keys of 
an organ or piano are struck, when har- 
monj' in the measurement of time is de- 
manded. 

With evident satisfaction, the president 
listened to Parepa-Rosa, as she sang 
Handel's " Let the Bright Seraphim." 
Without the faintest appearance of effort, 
she sang as clearly and brilliantly as if in 
a concert room of ordinarj- dimensions, the 
clear sounds of her imperial voice sweejj- 
ing throughout the galleries and corri- 
dors in trumpet-like tones. The audience 
was electrified. Not only spectators, but 
the twelve thousand choristers and one 
thousand performers, rose and vehemently 
cheered or waved their handkerchiefs. 
Another splendid vocal triumph was that 



achieved by Miss Adelaide Phillipps, in 
the singing of Mozart's aria from the 
Clemenza di Tito. The chorus, " Glory to 
God in the highest, peace on earth, good 
will to men," was another of the perform- 
ances. Hardly was it finished, when 
another — " And the glory of the Lord 
shall be revealed " — was taken up by the 
thousand altos, and echoed by the basses 
and sopranos until the hall rung. Noth- 
ing in the whole range of music could be 
more thunderous and intense than the 
concluding strains of this chorus. The 
chorus from Mendelssohn, " He watching 
over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps," had 
an almost divine pathos and melody. The 
great swaying grandeur of "America " 
impressed the chief magistrate deepl}^ As 
he left the building, salvos of artillery 
broke upon the air, fired in unison with 
the last chords of the strains of music and 
the rounds of cheers. 

Mr. Gilmore's programme for the third 
day consisted of popular and patriotic 
music, such as kept the vast crowd in a 
continual furore of pleasurable excite- 
ment. The first piece, the overture to 
Auber's " Era Diavolo," was splendidly 
played by the full orchestra of upward of 
one thousand, and a novel and very pleas- 
ing effect was produced by placing fifty 
trumjiets, or cornets, on the solo trumpet 
part, the matchless Arbuckle being at the 
head of the list. Luther's grand old 
choral, " The Judgment Hymn," was 
given by the full chorus, with full orches- 
tral and organ accompaniment. The next 
performance was the " Peace Festival 
March," composed for the occasion by 
Signer Janotta. It was performed by the 
grand orchestra and military band com- 
bined, and was a magnificent success. 
Madame Parepa-Rosa next rendered an 
aria from " Robert le Diable ; " and the 
Anvil Chorus, and " Overture Triomphale" 
on the American national air "' Hail Co- 
lumbia," composed for the festival by C. 
C. Converse, closed the first part of the 
programme. The second part included 
the " Prince Frederick " march, the " Star 
Spangled Banner," a cornet solo by Ar- 



920 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



buckle, " The Harp that once through 
Tara's Halls," the overture to Flotow's 
"Strudella," and the "One Hundredth 
Psalm." The whole audience joined in 
the last verse of the psalm, and the accom- 
paniment comprised the organ, orchestra, 
and cannon. 

In the evening, a Jubilee Ball was 
given in the coliseum, which was an 
immense success. A dancing hall of colos- 
sal proportions was provided, and the 
coliseum presented a more magnificent 
appearance under the effect of fifty thou- 



superb, — the largest ball, indeed, ever 
known in this country. 

A purely classical programme was ar- 
ranged for the fourth day, and the highest 
expectations of success were fully realized. 
Complete in its artistic results, no heartier 
enthusiasm was displayed at any time dur- 
ing the festival than that which followed 
the various choral and orchestral selections 
of this day. Among the performances 
were the "Gloria" from the Twelfth Mass, 
the "Hallelujah Chorus," "Achieved is 
the Glorious Work," the " Prayer " from 











a^^<tf|1l 










KATIOKAL PEACE .TlUllLKE AXD MUSICAL KE8TIVAI,, AT BOSTON. 



sand gas-lights, than in tlie day time. The 
decorations were thrown out boldly, while 
the rich toilets of the ladies heightened 
the general enchantment of the scene. 
The order of dances was twenty-two in 
number, and the ball opened promptly at 
half-past nine, Mr. Gilmore waving the 
baton. The orchestra was made up of a 
dance and promenade band, the former 
under the direction of Jlr. Gilmore, and 
the latter under ^Ir. Harvey T>. Dodworth, 
of New York. Ten thousand persons were 
present, and the affair was in all respects 



Moses in Egy])t, etc. The choral, " To 
God on High," and " Sleepers wake, a 
voice is calling," were both sung almost 
perfectly, showing, magnificently, their 
solid grandeur and beauty. The purely 
instrumental performances, Weber's " Ju- 
bilee " overture, and the Fifth Symphony 
of Beethoven, were rendered in the most 
majestic style. Miss Phiilipiis gave Han- 
del's beautiful "Lascia chio pianga" in 
the most finished and graceful manner, so 
that the audience were excited to the very 
highest pitch of enthusiasm, and an encore 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



921 



was rapturously demanded. Mr. George 
Peabody was introduced to the audience, 
during the intermisson, and was loudly 
cheered. There were also on the plat- 
form, with him, Governors Claflin and 
Jewell, Senators Sumner and Wilson, 
Generals Banks and Hawley, Bishop Simp- 
son, Dr. Lowell Mason, and other distin- 
guished guests. 

Saturday was the fifth and last day of 
this grandest musical festival of modern 
times. Ten thousand school children, 
their innocent voices pouring forth a flood 
of sweet and simple song, constituted the 
great attraction of the day. Clad in white 
dresses, with red and blue ribbons, the 
appearance of the girls was charming in 
the extreme. It was the largest chorus 
of children ever brought together in the 
world, and the concourse of spectators was 
vast. Chorals, three-part songs, national 
airs, etc., were performed with great skill 
and power by the juvenile songsters, elicit- 
ing unbounded applause. " Hail Colum- 
bia," and "Now the twilight softly steal- 
ing," were exquisitely rendered. Briuley 
Richards's song, " So merrily over the 
ocean spray," was one of the most telling 
features of the daj' ; the solo was sustained 
by five hundred pupils of the girls' high 
and normal school, and the chorus by all 
the children. " God is a Castle and 
Defense " was given with fine effect ; and 
Ole Bull's marvelous skill as a violinist 
was displayed in the solo, " A Mother's 
Prayer." The orchestra pla3'ed the over- 
ture to " William Tell," and the corona- 
tion march from " The Prophet." Madame 
Rosa repeated " Let the Bright Sera- 
phim," with Mr. Arbuckle's accompani- 
ment. A duet, " Quis est homo,'' sung 
by Madame Rosa and Miss Phillipps, was 
a performance long to be remembered. 
During the intermission, Mr. Gilmore was 
called from the orchestra to the editors' 
room, where Mr. Carl Gartner, of Phila- 
delphia, presented to him a massive gold 
watch, of great elegance and cost, and a 
heavy gold chain, as a testimonial of re- 
spect and regard from the members of the 
orchestra. The gift was entirely unex- 



pected to Mr. Gilmore, who made a fitting 
response. The "Russian National Hymn," 
with words of welcome to President Grant, 
was executed in a manner that showed the 
excellent vocal culture of the children ; 
and the concert was brought to a close by 
singing, in grand chorus, the One Hun- 
dreth Psalm. 

To say that the efforts and anticipations 
of those who originated the National Peace 
Jubilee and Musical Festival were crown- 
ed with triumphant success, from first to 
last, is but uttering the simple truth. It 
was a mighty conception, and the result 
was the greatest musical event in the liis- 
tory of modern times. The very first 
day's performances were so satisfying and 
so enthusiastically received, as to render 
the succeeding efforts comparatively easy 
and sure. From the ojiening to the clos- 
ing performance, the rapturous excitement 
and delight continued without abatement. 
At times it rose to almost wild delirium. 
The audience and the performers seemed 
to be actuated by one impulse of magnetic 
fervor. Unquestionably, the great musical 
artiste was Madame Parepa-Rosa, who 
gained new triumj)hs every day. Even 
the musicians, when she came to the last 
notes of the " Star Spangled Banner," 
where in capacity of voice she almost 
rivaled Jenny Lind, laid down their in- 
struments, and gazed in wonder. Her 
pure, full, and resonant notes seemed to 
triumijh over walls and roof, and to fill all 
space with tangible and enchanting mel- 
ody. 

General Grant's presence gave magnif- 
icent eclat to the occasion. Fully half a 
million people were in the city on that 
day, and the rush to the coliseum was ter- 
rific, there being fifty thousand persons 
outside of the building, unable to obtain 
admission. Hours before the time of the 
concert, orders had to be issued prohibit- 
ing the further sale of tickets ; and, almost 
as soon as the performances commenced, 
every door was closed, secured by iron 
clamps, and guarded by the police. Those 
who arrived late, holders of season tickets, 
purchasers of single day tickets bought of 



922 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



the speculators at a great price, members 
of parties whose friends were already 
inside, even journalists with their tickets 
and badges, were firmly refused admission. 
< loneral Grant surveyed the vast and brill- 
iant mass of humanity with evidently 
greater interest than that with which he 
listened to the music. Indeed, it was 
well known that, among his many fine 
qualities, a taste for this divine art was 
not included. When, therefore, General 
Underwood called upon General Sherman, 
on the morning before the president's 
departure for Boston, General Sherman 
said, " Taking Grant off to that drum 
match, are you, Underwood ? " " Yes, 
general, and I am very sorry you cannot 
join us." " Well," responded Sherman, 
" it is a kind of disappointment, you know, 
because I can apj)reciate those things ; 
but the President ! bless your soul, he'll 
be bored to death ! And, worse than all 
that, he has no ear for music. Why, do 
you know that Grant actually couldn't tell 
tlie difference between Yankee Doodle and 
Zip Coon?" On his way from Boston, 
the evening after his attendance at the 
coliseum. President Grant was asked how 
he liked the discharge of artillery during 
the performances that afternoon. He re- 
plied that, in his opinion, " the firing was 
the best part of the music ! " 

Much of the sustaining character of the 
choruses was due to the admirable adapt- 
edness of the organ to the occasion. Its 
tones were heard and felt clear over and 
through the host of voices and instru- 
ments ; at times it seemed to overshadow 
all, and its thunder tones shook the whole 
vast building. It had but a single man- 
ual, besides the pedals and sub-bass, but 
was capable of all desirable combinations, 
and was an organ complete of itself. Re- 
peated experiments were necessary to get 
pipes of sufficient compass as well as ex- 
cellence, and the result was the production 
of an instrument which, for volume of 
sound, could not be surpassed by a union 
of the four largest organs in Boston. This 
power was due not only to the capabilities 
of the tubes, but to the immense pressure 



of air brought to bear on them — four thou- 
sand pounds. The chief element of 
strength was the tuba mirabilis stop — 
found in but two other organs in the 
whole country. There were twelve com- 
plete sounding stops, with one hundred 
and sixty pipes connected. The instru- 
ment was twenty-two feet broad and thirty 
feet high. 

Another of the wonders of this wonder- 
ful week was the monster bass drum — the 
heads measuring nearly eight feet each in 
diameter, made from the hides of two 
mammoth oxen, which had been exhibited 
through the country during several j'ears 
past. On each head was the motto, " Let 
us have Peace." The drum was about 
three feet through from head to head, 
and the rim was painted red, white 
and blue. It was thoroughly jierfect in 
all its parts, and, being the largest drum 
in the world — for no larger one could 
be made, without using the hides of 
elephants for the heads — created a de- 
cided sensation. 

Whatever deficiencies or shortcomings 
a critical eye may have detected in any of 
the various features characterizing so stu- 
pendous an undertaking, it was almost 
universally pronounced a great success, 
realizing, in the highest degree, the patri- 
otic wish of the projector and his as.soci- 
ates, that the restoration of Peace through- 
out the land should be celebrated by one 
of the most imposing national gatherings 
ever assembled in any land ; and that the 
return of kindly feeling and the prepetua- 
tion of National Unity, should be sealed 
by the grandest outburst of sublime and 
inspiring harmony that had ever fallen 
upon human ears. The management of 
the whole affair was such as to command 
the highest praise. 

The monster entertainment known as 
"The World's Peace Jubilee and Inter- 
national Musical Festival," was opened in 
Boston, June 17, 1872, and continued, 
with varying performances, which were 
attended by multitudes of people, from all 
parts of the country, until Jul}' 4th. The 
chorus numbered twenty thousand voice."", 



GEEAT Ai^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



923 



embracing one hundred and sixty-five 
musical societies from the different states, 
but principally from New England. The 
orchestra parts numbered about two thou- 
sand, including twenty-seven brass bands, 
beside the foreign military bands, the 



United States marine band, the Em- 
peror William's cornet quartet, British 
Grenadier band, Strauss's orchestra, and 
such renowned virtuosos as Madame Ara- 
bella Goddard, Peschka-Leutner, Ruders- 
dorff, etc. 



evil. 

BURNING OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILL., THE COM- 
MERCIAL METROPOLIS OF THE NORTH- 
WEST.— 1S71. 



Most Destructive Conflagration In the History of Civilized Nations. — A Thirty Hours' Tornado of Fire 
in all Directions. — Vast Billows of Ine.xtinguishable Flame. — Upwards of Two Thousand Acres, or 
Seventy-three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed: Loss, $200,000,000.— Ipnoblc Ori- 
gin of the Fire. — Fatal Mistake of a Policeman. — Combustibles all Around. — A Strong Gale Prevail- 
ing. — Frightful Rapidity of the Flames. — Destruction of the Water- Works — Stores and Warehouses 
Swept Away. — Palaces and Hovels a Common Prey. — Engines Sent from Seven States. — The Mid- 
night Scene. — Terror Indescribable. — Flight for Life. — Burning of the Bridges. — Helplessness, Des- 
peration, Death — Churches, Hotels, Theaters, in Ashes — Fate of the Newspapers, Banks, etc. — 
Explosion of the Gas- Works. — Tombs and Graves Consumed. — Most Ghastly Spectacle. — Nearly 
100,000 Persons Homeless. — The Wail for Help. — A World's Sympathies Poured Forth. 



" Blackened and bleeding, pnnllnK. prone 

On the charred froeincnts of her shattered throne. 

Lies she who atoo<l, l>ut yesterday, alone." — Bret Hartk. 




-Mlt. OGl'E.N S HuL>L t .N 1 



1' IN i ilK .MlLtsl" or 



^N Sunday and Monday, October eiglilli :uiil ninth, 1871, there 
sJr occurred in Chicago, tlio great coniiucrcial nictro])oli.>i of the 
iiortli-west, a fire unparanclcd in the liistor}' of the world. 
The fire originated in a small frame structure in the rear of 
No. 137 DcKoven street, used as a cow-stable. It was dis- 
covered at about half-past nine o'clock in the evening, by a [lolii-eman, when it was 
very small, and who, hoping to extinguish it without sounding an alaiin, set himself to 




f^i- 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



925 



work to do so, — a fatal miscalculation, as 
the result soon proved. A strong south- 
westerly wind was blowing at the time ; 
no rain had fallen for several weeks previ- 
ous ; and consequently all combustible 
matter was prepared for ready ignition. 
It was also a portion of the city occupied 
by the poorer classes, principally Bohe- 
mian emigrant families, and being in the 
vicinity of several planing mills, shingle 
mills, and factories, had collected a large 
quantity of shavings from these places, 
and stored them in the basements and 
j'ards of their premises for winter use. 

All the lire apparatus of the city was 
brought into requisition, and, considering 
the difficulties to be encountered, the cour- 
age and energy of the firemen could not 
be surpassed. They had just j'^-ssed 
through a severe fire twenty-four liours 
previous, and part of the companies had 
left the scene of the Saturday night fire 
but a few hours, when they were again 
called, exhausted with hard labor, to this 
fearful scene. 

The flames shot with frightful rapidity 
from house to house and from board-yard 
to board-yard, all human means appearing 
utterly powerless to stay their progress. 
On they went, in a northerly direction, 
covering a space of two or three blocks in 
width, until the burnt district of the pre- 
vious night's fire was reached, and this 
served the purpose of preventing their 
farther spread on the west side of the 
river. Sweeping every thing in their 
course, up to the locality named, the 
flames leaped across the river, and vio- 
lently communicated with the buildings 
there. Quickly they traveled north, de- 
vouring everything as they went, until 
that section of the south division which 
embraced nearly all the grandest struct- 
ures and thoroughfares was reached, and 
there seemed to be no encouragement to 
farther efforts to save the city from its 
fiery doom. Unfortunately, one of the 
first public buildings reached by the fire 
was the water-works ; this cut off the 
water supply, rendering the fire depart- 
ment useless. 



The awful gale which prevailed filled 
the air with live coals, and hurled to an 
immense distance, in every direction, blaz- 
ing brands and boards, — a widespread 
besom of furious destruction. All of the 
leading banks of the city, several of the 
stone church edifices, costly and elegant 
in the extreme; the beautiful railroad 
depot of the Michigan Southern and the 
Rock Island railway companies, also that 
of the Illinois Central and the Michigan 
Central railroads; the court-house and the 
chamber of commerce ; the Sherman, Tre- 
niont, Briggs, Palmer, Bigelow, Metropol- 
itan, and several other hotels, as well as 
the gigantic Pacific, which was in process 
of construction ; all the great newspaper 
establishments; the Crosbj' opera-house, 
McVicker's theater, and every other prom- 
inent place of amusement; the post-office, 
telegraph offices, Farwell hall, the mag- 
nificent Drake-Earwell block, the stately 
dry goods palaces of J. V. Farwell & Co., 
Field, Leiter & Co., scores of elegant resi- 
dences in Wabash and Michigan avenues, 
numbers of elevators in which were stored 
millions of bushels of grain; in fact, all 
that the hand of man had fashioned or 
reared was completely swept away, as the 
fire madlj' rushed to the north. 

With tremendous force, the mightj' and 
uncontrollable element, rushing to the 
main channel of the river, near its en- 
trance into Lake Michigan, consumed the 
bridges, and attacked the north division 
with relentless fury. All day, on Mon- 
day, and through the succeeding night, it 
waged its work of devastation, advancing, 
with wonderful speed, from block to block, 
and from street to street, over a vast sur- 
face, sparing scarcely anything. The 
destruction of palatial residences and mag- 
nificent churches continued, while stores 
and dwellings by the hundreds, together 
with the costly water-works, the north side 
gas-works. Rush medical college, the Chi- 
cago and North-western railway depot, sev- 
eral immense breweries, coal j-ards, lum- 
ber yards, and manufacturing establish- 
ments of various kinds, and in great 
numbers, yielded to the resistless enemy. 



926 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



By midnight, nearlj' the entire popula- 
tion of the city had been aroused, and the 
streets, for an immense distance surround- 
ing the scene of the disaster, were thronged 
with excited, swaying humanity, and with 
all descriptions of vehicles, pressed into 
service for the hasty removal of household 
goods and personal effects ; loading and 
unloading, here, and there, and every- 
where, was going on in promiscuous con- 
fusion. Invalids and cripples were car- 
ried away on improvised ambulances; 
aged women and helpless infants were 
hastily borne to places of supposed safety ; 
people who were utterly overcome with 
excitement and fatigue were seen sleeping 
on lounges, trunks and tables, in the 
street ; and empty houses were forcibly 
broken open and taken possession of by 
homeless wanderers, made desperate by the 
awful surroundings. 

One of the most fearfully thrilling 
scenes of the great conflagration, as nar- 
rated, occurred in the eastern section of 
the north division. When it became ap- 
l>arent that all hope of saving the city was 
lost, after the flames had pushed down to 
the main branch of the river, the citizens 
of the north side, who were over to see the 
main theater of the fire, thought it time 
to go over to their own division, and save 
what they could. Accordingly, they beat 
a rapid retreat toward the tunnel and 
bridges. The former of these thorough- 
fares was impassable at three o'clock. 
Clark street had not been opened for some 
time, and State street was in a blaze from 
one end to the other. Rush street bridge 
proved to be the only means of getting 
away from the south side, and over that 
bridge the affrighted fugitives poured in 
thousands. Their flight was not quicker 
than was the advance of the flames. The 
latter jumped the river with miraculous 
swiftness, and ran along the northern sec- 
tion like lightning. So rapid was the 
march of the fiery element, driven by the 
heavy gale, that the people were glad 
enough to escape unscathed. Everything 
was abandoned. Horses and wagons were 
used merely as a means of flight. Few 



I persons in the direct course of the fire 
thought about saving anything but their 
lives and those of their families, such were 
the speed, and power, and omnipresence of 
the destroyer. Having reached Chicago 
avenue, the conflagration took an eastward 
turn, and cut off from flight northward all 
who remained in the unburned section ly- 
ing between Dearborn street and the lake. 
The inhabitants of that district flattered 
themselves that their homes might escape 
the general destruction. But the gale 
changed its course in a few minutes more 
toward the east, and the entire quarter of 
the city specified became a frightful pen, 
having a wall of fire on three sides and the 
fierce rolling lake on the other. 

And now a scene transpired, which, as 
described, was scarcely ever equaled. 
The houses were abandoned in all haste. 
Into wagons were thrown furniture, cloth- 
ing, and bedding. Mothers caught uj) 
their infants in their arms. Men dragged 
along the aged and helpless, and the en- 
tire horror-stricken multitude beat their 
course to the sands. It was a hegira 
never to be forgotten. 

Even the homes of the dead were sought 
for as food by the all-devouring element ; 
for, after ravaging to the limits of the 
city, and with the wind dead against it, 
the fire caught the dried grasses, ran along 
the fences, and in a moment covered in a 
burning glory the Catholic cemetery and 
the grassy stretches of Lincoln park. 
The marbles over the graves cracked and 
baked, and fell in glowing embers on the 
hot turf. Flames shot uj) from the rest- 
ing places of the dead, and the living fugi- 
tives, screaming with terror, made, for a 
moment, one of the ghastliest spectacles 
ever beheld. The receiving-vault, solidly 
built, and shrouded by foliage, fell under 
the terrific flame, and the corpses dropped 
or burst from the coffins, as the fire tore 
through the walls of the frightful charnel- 
house. 

On the fire obtaining strong and over- 
powering headway, the flames seemed to 
go in all directions; in some places, like 
huge waves, dashing to and fro, leaping 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



927 



up and down, turning and twisting, and 
pouring, now and then, a vast column of 
smoke and blaze hundreds of feet into the 
air, like a solid, perpendicular shaft of 
molten metal. In other places, it would 
dart out long streaks or serpentine shapes, 
which swooped down over the blazing path 
into some of the yet unburnt buildings, 
which seemed pierced, and kindled instan- 
taneously. There were also billows of 
flame, that rolled along like water, utterly 
submerging everything in their course. 
Here and there, when some lofty building 
became sheeted in flame, the walls would 
weaken and waver like india-rubber ; they 
sometimes swayed almost across the street, 
and immediately fell with a direful crash ; 
a momentarj' darkness followed, and then 
fresh glares of light from a newly kindled 
fire. The kerosene-oil stores made an 
awful but sublime display, as the tower- 
ing flames rolled aloft, seeming to pene- 
trate the very heavens. 

The huge iron reservoir of the gas-works 
exploded with tremendous force and sound, 
demolishing the adjacent buildings, and 
the very earth seemed actually belching 
out fire. The walls of white marble, the 
buff limestone of Illinois, the red and olive 
sandstones of Ohio and Marquette, the 
speckled granite of Minnesota, and the blue 
Lockport limestone of New York, all ap- 
peared to suffer about alike in the ravag- 
ing element. Everything the power of 
wind and flame could level met that doom ; 
everything it could lift was swept awaj*. 
The furious fire consumed its own smoke, 
leaving but few traces of stain upon the 
bare standing walls. 

In a comparatively short space of time, 
nearly all the public buildings were either 
consumed or in flames, — hotels, theaters, 
churches, court-house, railway depots, 
banks, water-works, gas-works, and thou- 
sands of dwellings, stores, warehouses, and 
manufactories, with all their vast and val- 
uable contents, were whelmed in one com- 
mon vortex of ruin. The fire engines 
were powerless. The streams of water 
appeared to dry up the moment they 
touched the flames. An attempt was 



made to blow up the buildings , but this 
availed little, the high wind carrying the 
flaming brands far across the space thus 
cleared away. To add to the horrors of 
the scene, the wooden pavements in sonic 
places took fire, driving the firemen from 
stations where their j^recious efforts might 
possiblj^ have been available. But noth- 
ing could long resist the terrible heat of 
the flames, which seemed to strike right 
through the most solid walls. Buildings 
supposed to be absolutely fire-proof burned 
like tinder, and crumbled to pieces like 
charred paper. Engines and fire-appa- 
ratus had arrived from seven different 
States, and the working force was prodig- 
ious, but all this was of no avail. 

According to the most reliable estimate, 
the number of acres burned over in the 
West Division of the city, where the fire 
originated, was nearly two hundred, in- 
cluding sixteen acres which were laid bare 
by the fire of the previous evening. This 
district contained about five hundred build- 
ings, averaging four or five occupants each. 
These buildings were generally of the 
poorer class, and comprised a great many 
boarding-houses, saloons, and minor hotels, 
with a few factories, also several lumber 
and coal yards and planing mills, a grain 
elevator, and a depot. 

In the South Division, the burned area 
comprised some four hundred and sixty 
acres. With the exception of the Lind 
block, on the river bank, between Ran- 
dolph and Lake streets, it included all 
north of an irregular line running diago- 
nally from the intersection of Polk street 
with the river, to the corner of Congress 
street and Michigan avenue. This dis- 
trict, though comparatively small in ex- 
tent, was by far the most valuable in the 
city, — the very heart and head of Chicago 
as a commercial center. It contained the 
great majority of all those structures 
which were at once costly in themselves, 
and filled with the wealth of merchandise 
that made the city the great emporium of 
the North-west. All the wholesale stores 
of any considerable magnitude, all the 
daily and weekly newspaper offices, all the 



928 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



929 



principal banks, the leading hotels, many 
extensive factories, all the oflBces of insur- 
ance men, lawyers, produce brokers, etc., 
the custom-house, court-house, chamber of 
commerce, all the prominent public halls 
and places of amusement, many coal yards, 
the monster Central railroad depot, with 
its various buildin'gs for the transaction of 
business of the Illinois Central, Michigan 
Central, and Chicago, Burlington and 
Quincy railroads, &c., &c. There were 
nearly thirty-seven hundred buildings de- 
stroj-ed in this division, including sixteen 
hundred stores, twenty-eight hotels, sixty 
manufacturing establishments, and the 
homes of about twenty-two thousand 
people. 

In the North Division, the flames swept 
nearly fifteen hundred acres, destroying 
thirteen thousand three hundred buildings, 
the homes of nearly seventy-five thousand 
people. These structures included more 
than six hundred stores and one hundred 
manufacturing establishments, including 
McCormick's reaper factory, a sugar refin- 
er}', box mills, etc. The lake shore, from 
Chicago avenue north, was lined with 
breweries. The river banks were piled 
high with lumber and coal, three grain 
elevators stood near the fork of the river, 
and near them the Galena depot. Many 
hotels, and private storehouses for produce 
and other property, also existed in this 
neighborhood, and the wholesale meat 
markets on Kinzie street were a busy cen- 
ter of trade. North Clark, Wells, and 
North and Chicago avenues, were princi- 
pally occupied by retail stores. 

The total area burned over was two 
thousand one hundred and twenty -four 
acres, or almost three and one-third square 
miles. This area contained about seventy- 
three miles of streets, and seventeen thou- 
sand four hundred and fifty buildings, the 
homes of nearly one hundred thousand 
people. All this transpired in the brief 
space of thirty hours, and the aggregate 
loss was not far from $200,000,000. But 
saddest of all was the great loss of life, the 
precise extent of which will probably 
never be known. 

59 



For a city thus suddenly and tragically 
overwhelmed in ruin, the sj'mpathies of the 
whole civilized world were spontaneously 
poured forth, and, in response to the cr}' for 
help that went up from her borders, instant 
and abundant relief was sent from every 
part of the Union. The national govern- 
ment, at the instance of Lieut. Gen. Sher- 
idan, — whose activity in endeavoring to 
stay the progress of the conflagration, and, 
subsequently, in preserving order, was so 
conspicuous, — sent thousands of tents and 
army rations ; societies and private citi- 
zens sent money, clothing, and provis- 
ions ; railroad companies dispatched spe- 
cial trains laden with these gifts ; and in 
every city and town, public meetings were 
held, and money raised to aid the homeless 
and suffering. Erom Canada and Europe, 
too, came assurances of sympathy and 
proffers of assistance. The total value of 
the charities thus bestowed, in provisions, 
clothing, and money, amounted to millions 
of dollars, all of which was distributed 
with such promptness and wisdom that 
despair was forestalled, epidemic disease 
prevented, and hope kindled in the hearts 
of all. 

To narrate more than a few of the many 
instances of heroism, affection, tragedy 
and crime, incident to a disaster so wide- 
spread and awful, would be simply impossi- 
ble. Gangs of armed rufiians were every- 
where patrolling about, hunting for plunder, 
and breaking into safes with impunit}', — 
remonstrance was met with a deadly blow, 
and few had the temerity to interfere. 
Heated with whiskey and excitement, they 
caused a complete reign of terror, and, 
though the major had issued a proclama- 
tion directing the closing of the saloons, 
no attention was paid to it, and the disor- 
derlj' element had its own sway. 

In Wabash and Michigan avenues, and, 
indeed, in all the places where the richer 
classes lived, the scenes enacted were un- 
paralleled. Women who had never known 
what a care was, and consequently were, 
as would be supposed, utterly incapable of 
bearing with courage such a calamity as 
the destruction of their homes, displayed 



930 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 



instances of heroism and love worthy to 
be written of in story and song. Tims, a 
prominent lady of Wabash avenue had 
been deserted by her servants as soon as 
it became certain that the house was 
doomed ; they went off, taking with them 
whatever they could lay their hands on. 
She, her daugliter, and lier invalid hus- 
band, were alone in the house, and the 
Bames were rapidly approaching. There 
was not a moment to spare, and the two 
women carried away in their arms the 
sick man, and brought him in safety be- 
yond the reach of the fire. 

The most pitiable sights were the sick 
children, half dead, lying crouclied on the 
sidewalks, in many cases with barely any 
covering on them. A pathetic scene 
was noticed on the corner of La Salle 
and Randolph streets, where two little 
girls were lying, terror-stricken, by the 
side of their dead sister, whose re- 
mains presented a harrowing spectacle. 
Siie had been too late to escape from 
under a falling building on Clark street, 
and had then been extricated and bortie 
away to the corner by her almost perish- 
ing sisters. 

The preservation of Mr. Ogden's resi- 
dence, solitary and alone, in the very heart 
of the tire, was one of the most memorable 
incidents in the history of this great dis- 
aster. Tlie happy result in this case was 
accounted for by the fact that the house, 
a large and comfortable frame structure, 
was in the middle of a block, all the other 
lots of which formed its elegant garden. 
On the streets upon its four sides were not 
manj' large buildings; while just as the 
fire approached it from the south-west 
there was a slight lull in the fury of the 



wind. This allowed the flames to shoot 
straighter into the air, and, before the 
fiery tempest had again bent them forward 
in search of further fuel, the structures 
upon which they were immediately feed- 
ing had been reduced to ashes, and a break 
made in the terrible wall of fire. The 
exertions of Mr. Ogden and his family, in 
covering the roof and walls of the house 
with carpets, quilts, and blankets, wliich 
were kept constantly wet with water from 
a cistern which happened to be in his place, 
also aided materially in the saving of their 
home, which was the only unharmed build- 
ing for miles! 

One of the most notable events was the 
fate of the Trihtuie building, erected at 
great cost, and, as it was supposed, with 
undoubted fire-proof qualities. A wide 
space had been burned around it, and its 
safety was thought to be assured. A pa- 
trol of men swept off live coals and put 
out fires in the side walls, and another 
patrol watched the roofs. Up to four 
o'clock in the morning, the reporters had 
sent in detailed accounts of the fire. At 
five o'clock the forms were sent down. 
In ten minutes the two eight-cj'linders in 
the press-room would have been throwing 
off the morning paper. Then the front 
basement was discovered to be on fire. 
The plug on the corner was tapped, but 
there was no water. The pressmen were 
driven from their presses. The attaches 
of the establishment said good-bye to the 
finest newspaper oflice in the western 
country, and withdrew to a place of 
safety. In a very short time the building 
was enveloped in fire, and by ten o'clock 
the whole magnificent structure was a mass 
of blackened ruins. 



CVIII. 

TERRIBLE FIRE IN THE BUSINESS HEART OF 
BOSTON.— 1872. 



It Rages Fiercely, Night and Day, and Consumes the Widest and Most MagniBcent Area of Solid 
Granite Wareliouses on tlie (Continent — Some Sixty-five Acres of these Massive and Apparently 
Indestructible Commercial Palaces Crumble Like Chalk in the Intense Heat — The Great Financial 
and Commercial Center of New England Destroyed — Surprising Character of this Fire. — Compari- 
son with that of Chicago — No Gale : Moderate Weather — Strange Rapidity of the Flames — Tliey 
Spread in all Directions — Triumphant Sweep from Block to Block. — Thoroughness of the Destruc- 
tion. — Iron and Stone No Barriers. — Difficulties of the Situation. — Great Height of the Stores — 
Narrowness of the Streets — Trinity Church in Ruins — Blotting up with Gunpowder. — Grand and 
Terrible Scenes. — Narrow Escape of the " Old South." — Slate Street and Its Treasures Reached. — 
Victory at Last by the Firemen. — Peril, Bravery, Death. — A Whole City in Darkness. — Some Eight 
Hundred Buildings Burned.— Trades that Specially Suffered.— Loss About §85,000,000. 



"In re<I and wreathing columns flashed 
The flimu', Qs loud the ruin crtiBhed. 
And here unrl tlieie the craekliii^' dome 
yilas tired before the explodiug boiub." 



T about seven o'clock, Saturday eveiiiug, November 
ninth, 1872, a fire commenced in Boston, Mass., _ 
which proved to be, next to that of Chicago, the 
most extensive and disastrous in American histor3'. 
Indeed, it was even more surprising in its character 
than the Chicago conflagration — in the fact that, 
with no gale prevailing at the time, and in moderate 
weather, there could be such rapid, complete, and 
almost uncontrollable destruction of the most solid 
and, apparently, most fire-proof buildings, streets 
and sections, to be found in any part of the world. 
That rich and magnificent portion of the city 
bounded by Washington, Summer, Bedford, Water 
and Oliver streets, and the water of the harbor, was 
nearly swept over by the devouring element, and, in 
a brief space of time, the solid granite blocks of 
Summer, Franklin, Milk, Congress, Federal and 
Devonshire streets, were but a mass of ruins. 
Washington street was burned on one side from 
.Summer to Water street; the fire crept nearlj* up to 
TKi.MTY cuciicii, liu.sio.N, Dt.sriiovED. Statc strcct, destrojMng in part the post-office and 
Merchants' Exchange building, as it had previously damaged, to some extent, the walls 







932 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



of the new post-office structure ; and it 
took in, in its wido and destructive course, 
most especially the streets and Mocks 
occupied hy the wholesale general dr\- 
goods trade, the shoe and leather trade, 
and the wool business of the cit}'. 

The fire broke out in a large four-storj' 
granite store on the corner of Summer and 
Kingston streets, the building being sur- 
mnimted with a high Mansard roof, over- 
topping everything else in that immediate 
vicinity. Directly as the flames began to 
spread througli the story beneath this 
roof, and before engines or hose-carriages 
were on the ground, great volumes sud- 
denly burst forth from the rear of the 
other stories of the building, and, in 
less than twenty minutes, the whole broad 
facade extending along Kingston street 
was one sheet of flames, as was also at the 
same time the Summer street front, the 
heat being so intense as to force the fire- 
men away. 

By tliis time a strong breeze had come 
up, — or rather, the vast and powerful 
flames made their own current of air and 
followed that, now to one side, now to the 
otlier, following no ])articular path, and 
spreading with unaccountable rapidity, 
communicating in a short time to the 
Iniildiiigs on the opposite corner of Kings- 
ton and Summer streets, as well as tlie 
block on Summer and Otis streets. In 
less than lialf an hour tliereafter, the 
flames were bursting out of all the adjoin- 
ing roofs, and all u[) and down the broad- 
sides of these immense structures, — sweep- 
ing triumphantly from story to story, from 
roof to roof, from block to block, from 
corner to corner, of street after street. 
Whatever the flames reached they rapidly 
consumed, melting granite walls, and 
crisping and crackling iron doors and 
shutters as though they were but lead. 
The great height of these warehouses and 
the narrowness of the streets proved seri- 
ous difficulties. In hardly any case could 
a stream of water be thrown upon the 
back part of the roofs, and it was on the 
roofs that, after the first outbreak, the fire 
almost invariably caught ; nor was it pos- 



sible to approach in those streets — or 
lanes — very near the buildings. The fire- 
men struggled heroicallj', hut in vain ; 
they put up barricades for their protection, 
but the barricades were soon consumed ; 
they carried hose np to the verj' roofs, but 
the height was so great that very little 
water could be forced through them. So 
terribly intense, too, was the heat, after a 
while, that it passed through the brick 
walls of adjoining buildings and the fronts 
of warehouses on the opposite sides of the 
streets, igniting and consuming the latter 
without any direct contact with flame. 

This phenomenon of terrible heat was a 
repetition of the exi)ericnce of Chicago, as 
was also the fate of those buildings which 
were considered, in a peculiar simisp, fire- 
proof. Iron and stone alike yielded like 
pine to the destroyer. Walls which might 
almost have defied heavy artillery were 
quickh' i)enetrated by the fierce element, 
and, in a wonderful manner, crumbled like 
chalk, the whole mass falling in small 
pieces, — the solid window-caps, stately 
crowning stones, and broad and massive 
sections, indiscriminately ; and it was 
noticeable that, in nearly every instance, 
the walls left standing were of brick. 
Another peculiar feature was the almost 
total consumjition of the contents of the 
buildings, there being comparatively few 
charred timbers piled among the ruins of 
stone and masonry, and but few merely 
damaged or half-burned goods. Every- 
thing that was combustible was consumed, 
so overmastering was the intensity and 
force of the heat, — a fact which none 
knew better than the brave-hearted fire- 
men, who pertinaciously battled the fiery 
fiend all through the night of Saturday, 
and until long after Sunday's sun had 
passed his meridian. Many faced the 
lieat nntil their exposed flesh was sadly 
blistered. 

At a])0ut three o'clock in the morning, 
the rapid reports of gunpowder explosions 
indicated that buildings were being sub- 
jected to the fuse, as a last effort to save 
the city from the flames. One of these 
attempts was made with a massive block 



GREAT AND IVrEMORABLE EVENTS. 



933 



on Devonshire street. The buildings were 
thrown partially down, but not sufficiently 
so to bar or break the onward march o£ 
the sheet of blaze, which at once, like a 
demon, leaped over the gap and seized 
upon the adjoining stores. Buildings at 
some distance from the flames were then 
selected for gunpowder operations, it being 
evident that it was useless to blow up any 
situated in the immediate vicinity of the 
fire. The explosions, following each other 
rapidly, shook the city to its foundations, 
and, being added to the hoarse roar of the 
flames, the crackling sound of bursting 
granite, and the air filled as far as the eye 
could reach with fiery sparks, produced a, 
scene at once grand and terrible. 

Thus, unchecked, the conflagration from 
its first start swept with unconquerable 
sway. From the fatal corner where it 
commenced, it traveled simultaneously in 
all directions. Southward it burned about 
half a block. Eastward it took both sides 
of Summer street, passed Arch, Chauncej', 
and Hawley, and thence ran diagonally to 
to the north-east corner of Summer and 
Washington streets, sparing one solitary 
building there, but taking ever3'thing at 
the rear and side of it. Thence it ran 
along the east side of Washington street, 
as far north as Milk, and within a ver}' 
short distance of School street and the 
City Hall. From Kingston street, east 
and west, the fire took Ijoth sides of Sum- 
mer and Bedford streets, and never stop- 
ped until it reached the water, destro5'ing 
the wharves and depot of the Hartford 
and Erie railroad. Meanwhile it had 
careered northward, along Devonshire, Fed- 
eral, and Congress streets, toward the 
water ; and here were some tenement 
houses, liquor shops, and other buildings 
of the poorer class, and before midnight 
the wretched occupants were turned into 
the street. The general path of the flames 
at this time was north-west, and from about 
Congress street to Washington, it formed 
an impassable barrier, moving up closer 
and closer toward State street, the great 
financial center of New England. Milk 
and Pearl streets fell a rich prey to the 



destroyer, and toward morning the rear of 
the post-office was reached. The mails 
were removed to the Custom House, and 
thence to Faneuil Hall, where the regular 
mail arrangements were duly established, 
nothing having been lost. The progress 
of the flames was stayed at the rear of the 
Merchants' Exchange, thus saving the vast 
treasures of State street. 

Two currents of flame, one sweeping 
northward from Franklin street, the other 
westward along Milk street, encountered 
one of the most renowned historical build- 
ings in Boston, the Old South Church. For 
a long time it was feared that this vener- 
ated landmark was doomed to destruction, 
and this apprehension was by no means les- 
sened when the flames were seen dancing 
upon the tall roof of the Daily Transcript 
building, only the width of a narrow street 
and lot to the west. Its tall white steeple, 
surmounted by a shining vane and globe, 
stofjd transfigured in the glowing light of 
the conflagration from early evening until 
the next morning, and as hour after hour 
was solemnly tolled from its belfry, many 
persons indulged in such remarks as, 
" That is the last time the Old South will 
tell the hour of day," or, '■ I can say I 
heard the Old South strike for the last 
time," etc. But, though Trinity church, 
on Summer street, with its massive walls 
of unhewn granite, was laid in ruins, the 
Old South, a brick building with consider- 
able wood in combination, was spared. 
Save a few broken windows and a little 
blistered paint, the grand old edifice was 
unharmed. The beautiful Transcript build- 
ing, although it finally succumbed, stood 
out long enough to give the firemen the 
reins of the unruly element in that direc- 
tion. 

The scenes which accompanied this sud- 
den, furious, and wide-spread disaster, can 
only be faintly depicted. Men with 
ledgers and account books of every descrip' 
tion, and which contained the records of 
immense business transactions, were hur- 
rying with them through the streets, anx- 
ious to convey them to some place as far 
out of the reach of the fire as possible ; 



934 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




TEnniBLE FIRE IN TOE nUSINESS HEART OF BOSTON, 
NOVEMUEK » AND 10, 1872. 

job teams and every other kind of vehicle, 
loaded down with valuables, crowded the 
thoroughfares ; the Common was used as a 
repository by those who could find no 
covered shelter for their effects, and all 
along the Tremont-street mall, from I'ark 
to Boylston street, goods in bales and 
boxes, packages, large and small, dry 
goods, leather good.s, bed-ticks, and house- 
hold furniture, were heaped in large 
stacks, and determined men with sticks or 
clubs guarded them from the incursions 
of iHiniberless thieves, who, like birds of 
prey, hovered about at every turn. ^Vith 
all the precaution exercised throughout 
the city, with reference to this danger, ar- 
rests by the police became so numerous, 
that it was found impossible to accommo- 



date all the i)risoners, and con- 
sequently many of them liad to 
>e discharged from custody'. 
That .s(]iii(' lives were lost, during so 
many hours of devastation, ruin, and ter- 
ror, is not surjjrising, and it even appears 
K remarkable that the number should fall 
' something short of a score. Among these 
were instances peculiarly harrowing and 
tragical. While the fire was raging in 
the drug store of Weeks & Potter, Sun- 
day morning, two men were struck down 
while endeavoring to save stock, b^' the fall- 
ing of a ]iortion of the wall. One of fliem 
was totally buried, but the other was caught 
by the legs, — and, shouting for succor, 
said that if his legs were extricated he 
could get out easily. Several brave fire- 
men responded by dashing intrepidly into 
the doomed building, the front wall of 
which was even then tottering, and mak- 
ing frantic efforts to release the poor suf- 
ferer. Suddenly they were startled by 
the cry that the massive front wall was 
going over. There was a desperate rush 
for life, and a silent horror seized the 
spectators as the wall fell with a thunder- 
ing crash and it seemed that two of the 
brave firemen had shared tiie fate of those 
whom they had so nobly tried to save. 



GREAT AJSTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



935 



Nor was this an exceptional example, 
merelj', of the courageous conduct of Bos- 
ton firemen during those days of terror. 

One of the most thrilling incidents oc- 
curred on Saturday night, in one of the 
extensive dry goods warehouses on Win- 
throp Square. The store had been closed, 
and six young men, whose duty it was to 
clear up the basement and shut off the gas, 
were thus employed, when, unknown to 
them, some one left the store and locked 
the door. As the fire made headway, and 
burst into the upper stories of the block, 
the young men made a rush for the door, 
which, to their surprise and terror they 
found secured. They shouted for helji, 
but none came ; they jiounded the door 
and struggled to break it down, but in 
vain ; tlie fire had enveloped the several 
stories, and the clerks were in despair, 
when, fortunately, the door was burst 
open by the firemen, and the clerks es- 
caped a horrible death. 

The light of the great conflagration was 
visible scores of miles distant. Cinders, 
pieces of newspapers, bills, dry goods, etc., 
were found in Hingham and adjoining 
towns, and even as far as West Scituate 
— twenty miles from Boston, — pieces of 
charred goods, silks and woolens, paper, 
freight bills, etc., were found in the roads 
and fields ; and at one time, on Saturday 
night, looking from South Hingham to- 
ward Boston, the air seemed filled with 
fiery cinders. At West Scituate a govern- 
ment bond was found, the edges of which 
had been burned, and in the adjoining 
town of Hingham a fragment of a ten 
dollar bill was picked up, also leaves of 
hymn books, bibles, etc. 

The scene on Tuesday, after the fire, 
was such as had never before been wit- 
nessed in Boston. Many of the streets 
were so completely filled with rubbish of 
the fallen walls as actually to be quite 
undistinguishable ; and, in all of them, it 
was necessary for the explorer to pick his 
way over smoking heaps of debris that lay 
piled across, many feet deep. The effect 
of the heat on the facades of the granite 
structures was peculiar. In almost every 



case, thin, platter-like disks had flaked off 
from the blocks, leaving the latter shape- 
less and useless, yet nearly always ap- 
proaching a boulder-like form. On Pearl 
street, the pavement was covered, about a 
couple of inches deep, with powdered 
granite, which resembled coarse granite, 
few of the pieces being larger than a bean ; 
and the passer who stepped off the bould- 
ers, on which he picked his way, into this 
pulverized mass, felt it slide and roll 
under his feet, in the same manner as 
gravel. On this same street, also, on 
which not a single building was spared, a 
curious ajjpearance was presented bj' the 
remains of the front walls. Many of them 
had fallen down to about the middle of 
the lower story, just leaving enough of the 
pillars beside the doors to full}' display 
the signs, showing the names and busi- 
ness of the recent occupants. In some 
instances the lower story of the front 
appeared as if completely untouched, 
though behind there was only a smoulder- 
ing pile of brick. On the docks, thou- 
sands of tons of coal were burning, and 
half-a-dozen steamers were busy, day and 
night, playing on them, but with slow 
effect. 

Owing to the exhaustion of the gas 
supply, caused by copious leaks in numer- 
ous sections of the citj', — the fire having 
prevented access to the various stop-cocks 
designed to shut off the supply from the 
several districts in just such an emergency 
as this, — darkness for one night, at least, 
was relieved only by such means as could 
hastily be improvised. Not a few house- 
lieepers found it difficult to procure light 
at all, as the stock of candles in nearly all 
the retail groceries about town was early 
taken up. The dealers in kerosene oil 
and lamps also did a large business. 
Without gas, the streets presented a for- 
lorn and desolate appearance indeed, and 
the few persons abroad moved with cau- 
tious steps. Stores generally brilliant 
with light in the evening were dark ; and 
the hotels, usually bright and inviting, 
were, almost literally, enveloped in gloom. 
A novel spectacle, truly, was that pre- 



936 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



sented by the boarders, as they gathered to 
read the evening papers ; each individual 
possessed himself of a wax, or sperm, or tal- 
low dip, and with tlie printed sheet in one 
hand, and the flickering light in the other, 
divided his attention between the two. 

§0 great was the excitement produced 
throughout all New England, as well as in 
other parts of the country, by this tragical 
and overwhelming calamity, that immense 
crowds of visitors soon crowded the city, 
causing in various waj's extreme incon- 
venience. At no time during either of 
the " Peace Jubilees " of 1869 and 1872, 
was the rolling stock of the different rail- 
ways so heavily taxed. Trains of unex- 
ampled length, jammed with men, women, 
and children, came in from every section 
at early day, and went out as thronged at 
dusk and in the evening. One train of 
thirty cars on the Boston and Albany rail- 
road reached the city at noon from way 
stations beyond Worcester, completely 
filled, notwithstanding that specials and 
regulars from a portion of the same section 
had previously been run ; and, on the 
other lines, the passenger freights were 
nearly or quite as heavy. By some means, 
not a few of these visitors got within the 
well guarded fire limits and among the 
ruins, and there, with small scrip, pur- 
chased of prowling urchins wlio had 
stormed the lines, various "relics" of the 
fire, — bits of crockery, pieces of fantastic- 
ally twisted iron, etc. 

Curious but characteristic was the fact 
that, even in the midst of the ruins, life 
and energy ajtpearud, with scarcely a day's 
intervention, for, though Boston enter- 
prise had received the heaviest of shocks, 
it had not become paralyzed. Before the 
huge heaps of bricks had cooled, and 
while many fires were smouldering and 
crackling, and the smoke was yet thick 
and stifling, men had begun the work of 
clearing away the i/r/iris, preparatory to 
the work of rebuilding. So complete, 
however, had been the work of destruc- 
tion, and so utterly obliterated were the 
lines of old familiar thoroughfares, that 
the masters and workmen alike were fre- 



quently bewildered, and citizens clamber- 
ing over the piles of bricks and granite 
blocks were completely lost in places where, 
before the fire, they were most at home. 
One man was seen wandering around 
what was once the lower part of "Water 
street, with a sign announcing the changed 
location of the Shawmut Bank, busily 
searching for the site of its building, which 
in fact was not far from the corner of 
Congress, and a prominent shoe dealer 
was heard arguing that Purchase street, 
where he was standing, was the upper 
portion of Pearl. 

As affecting the business community, 
this fire was one of the most disastrous 
ever known, and, in this country, second 
only to that of Chicago — the greatest on 
record. While but few dwellings were 
burned and but a comparatively small 
number of families made houseless, the 
finest warehouses and stores in the city, 
and indeed in the whole country, — the 
entire space occupied bj' the wholesale dry 
goods de.ilcrs, wool merchants, boot and 
shoe and hide and leather dealers, and 
clothing houses, — met total destruction. 
Not a wool house was left standing. The 
whole of Pearl and High streets, which 
were devoted exclusively' to the boot, shoe, 
and leather trade, showed simply a heap 
of ruins. Every wholesale clothing house, 
with a single exception, was burned, and 
but three or four dry goods commission 
houses were left standing, — so complete, 
indeed, was the destruction of the latter 
class, that the agent of the largest mill in 
the country stated that but one out of all 
his customers in the city had a place left 
for his business. The fire thus burned 
over the widest area of massive and appar- 
ently indestructible commercial palaces in 
America. The estimated total loss was 
about eight-five million dollars. Consid- 
ering the small extent of territory covered 
— some sixty-five acres, — and the length 
of time the fire burned, the amount of 
property destroyed was unparalleled. The 
number of buildings consumed, not in- 
cluding those slightly damaged, was seven 
hundred and seventy-six, of which only 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



937 



sixty-seven were of wood. Though, most 
fortunately, the number of deaths was 
much less than might have been expected, 
thousands of working girls and men were 
thrown out of employment. 

The expressions of sympathy for the 
devastated city, with generous proffers of 
aid, came from all quarters. Even while 



the flames were still spreading, measures 
of relief were instituted to aid the necessi- 
tous ; and, upon the petition of the city 
council, the governor of the commonwealth 
called a special session of the legislature to 
enact measures for the benefit of sufferers 
by the calamitj^, and to prevent the recur- 
lence of a similar disaster. 



CIX. 
THE NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT.— IS 72. 



Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. — Changes Sought in the Relations between ProJucers 
and Consumers — General Declaration of Principles and Aims. — A System of Universal Cooperation 
Proposed — Results to be Healized by such Combinations — Patrons of Husbandry and Sovereigns of 
Industry. — Initiative Proceedings in 1867. — First Grange Founded in Washington, I). C. — Agricul- 
ture the Grand Basis. — Mutual Protection and Advancement. — Small Kncouragement at the Begin- 
ning. — Immense Growth in Five Years. — Activity in the West and South — Social and Moral Aspects. 
— Plan of Business Action. — Partisan Prejudices Disavowed — No Political Tests Involved. — Opin- 
ions of Kminent Leaders Cited. — Vjews of Foreign Publicists — Vital Point in the New System — 
Commercial and Financial Theories. — Grain and Cotton Products. — Alleged Krrors in Trade Cus- 
toms. — Individual vs. Associated EfTurts. — ' Middlemen ' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Inter- 
vention — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies. 



'* The ultimnte object of this orponir-ation U for mutual Instruction nnd proteclton, to Hehtcn labor by dlffiislne a knowlcdec of it" film* 
and purpo!;.'!*. rxpand the mind bv trurine the beautiful luwn like s^e it C reator lia» catabliahed in the UDiveiee, Bud tu vQlarge uur view* uf 
Creative wiadom und power."— Co.nstitltio.i or the National Gka.xue. 









kNE of the nicst active and vigorous co-operative bodies which have 

yg t Im'C'11 organized, on a jioimlar basi.><, witliin tlie hist few years of the 

national century, and which now has its associate 

representation in almost all parts of tlie country, 

is what is known as the National Grangers — and, 

similarly. Patrons of Husbandry, and Sovereigns 

of Industry, — devoted, as these names impl)-, to 

the interests of agricultural labor, and kindred iii- 

thistries. Their greatest strength is found in the 

western portion of the rejiublic, though by 

no means confined to that section, affiliated 

branches of the order being found, in a more 

or less flourishing condition, in the southern, 

eastern, and Pacific regions, as well. 

Though dating the initiative of its existence 
no earlier than 18G7, it was not, in fact, until 
1872, that the order became sufficiently for- 
midable in numbers and influence to attract 
wide-spread attention. As illustrating, how- 
ever, the rapid growth which, in time, charac- 
terized this movement, it is stated that, in August. 1867, ^Messrs. 0. H. Kelley and 
William Saunders, at that time connected with the government departments in Wash- 
ington, D. C, and known ai intelligent and far-seeing observers of public affairs in 




/' 



iW-i-*- 



im 



VTr 



m^,^ 



i^\ 



Q\' 



^ 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



939 



their relations to business and labor, — both 
gentlemen having been farmers, and long 
identified witli that class, — conceived the 
idea of forming a societj-, having for its 
object their mutual instruction and pro- 
tection. 

In this view, they were joined, on con- 
sultation, by others, and a circular was 
drawn up, embracing the various points it 
was deemed desirable to embody, in pre- 
senting the plan of the Grange to the 
country. On the 4th of December, 1867, 
in Washington, D. C, the first Grange 
was organized, being officered as follows : 
William Saunders, master ; J. R. Thomp- 
son, lecturer; Rev. A. B. Grosh, chaplain; 
O. H. Kelley, secretary. This became the 
National Grange. Soon after, a subordi- 
nate grange was established in that citj', 
as a school of instruction, and to test the 
efficiency of the ritual. This grange num- 
bered about sixty members. In April, 
1SG8, Mr. Kelley was appointed to the 
position of traveling agent. The first dis- 
j>ensation was issued for a grange at Har- 
risburg, Pa. ; the second at Fredonia, N. 
Y. ; the third at Columbus, 0. ; the next 
at Chicago, 111. In Minnesota, six granges 
were organized. Thus, the whole number 
daring the first year was but ten : in 1869, 
thirty-nine dispensations were granted ; in 
1870, thirty-eight; in 1871, one hundred 
and twent3"-five ; and during the next j'ear, 
more than eight hundred dispensations for 
subordinate granges were issued from the 
headquarters at Wasliington. and the total 
increase during 1872 was rising eleven 
hundred. 

The declaration of principles put forth, 
autiioritatively, by the national grange, 
leaves no room for doubt as to the charac- 
ter and purposes avowed by this now pow- 
erful order. Starting with the proclama- 
tion of union by the strong and faithful 
tie of Agriculture, with a mutual resolve 
to labor for the good of the order, the 
country, and mankind, and indorsing the 
motto, ' In essentials, unity, in non-essen- 
tials liberty, in all things charity,' the 
following specific objects are set forth 
as those characterizing the order and 



by which the cause is to be advanced, 
namely : 

To develop a better and higher man- 
hood and womanhood among those consti- 
tuting the order; to enhance the comforts 
and attractions of home, and strengthen 
the attachment to their pursuits ; to foster 
mutual understanding and co-operation ; 
to maintain inviolate the laws, and emu- 
late each other in hastening the good time 
coming ; to reduce expenses, both individ- 
ual and co-operate ; to buy less and pro- 
duce more, in order to make their farms 
self-sustaining; to diversify crops, and 
crop no more than can be cultivated ; to 
condense the weight of exports, .'telling less 
in the bushel and more on hoof and in 
fleece ; to systematize work, and calculate 
intelligently on jirobabilities ; to discon- 
tinue the credit system, the mortgage sys- 
tem, the fashion system, and evei-y other 
system tending to prodigality and bank- 
ruptcy; to meet together, talk together, 
work together, buy and sell together, and 
in general act together for mutual jirotec- 
tion and advancement, as association may 
require; to avoid litigation as much as 
possible, by arbitration in the grange ; to 
constantly strive to secure entire harmony, 
good will, and vital brotherhood, and to 
make the Order perpetual ; to endeavor to 
suppress personal, local, sectional and na- 
tional prejudices, all unhealthy' rivalry, and 
all selfish ambition. 

In regard to the principles and aims of 
this organization in respect to business, — 
concerning which much public discussion 
has taken place, — the statement is made 
by the order, authoritatively and' explic- 
itly, that it aims to bring producers and 
consumers, farmers and manufacturers, 
into the most direct and friendly relation 
possible, and, in order to fulfill this, it is 
necessary that a surplus of middlemen be 
dispensed with, — not in any spirit of un- 
friendliness to them, but because such a 
class is not needed, their surplus and ex- 
actions diminishing the raiser's profits. 

Emphatically disavowing any intention 
to wage aggressive warfare against other 
interests, the grangers assert that all their 



940 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



acts and efforts, so far as business is con- 
cerned, are not only for tlie benefit of the 
producer and consumer, but also for all 
other interests that tend to bring these 
two parties into speedy and economical 
contact ; hence, they hold that transporta- 
tion companies of everj' kind are necessary, 
that the interests of such companies are 
intimately connected with the welfare of 
the grange, harmonious action being mu- 
tually advantageous, — keeping in view one 



While declaring themselves as not the ene- 
mies of railroads, navigable and irrigating 
canals, nor of any corporations that will 
advance industrial welfare, nor j-et of any 
laboring classes, the grangers are opposed 
to such spirit and management of any cor- 
poration, or enterprise, as tend to oppress 
the people and rob them of their just 
profit; and, while not enemies to capital, 
they oppose the tyranny of monopolies, and 
urge that the antagonism between capital 




SYMBOLS OF THE CO-OPEKATIVE LAUOlt OKOAXIZATIOXS. 



of the primary bases of action upon which 
the order rests, namely, that individual 
happiness depends upon general prosperity. 
To this end, the order advocates for 
every state the increase, in every practica- 
ble way, of all facilities for transporting 
cheaply to the seaboard, or between home 
producers and consumers, all the produc- 
tions of the country, the fixed purpose of 
.action being, in this respect, to open out 
the channels in nature's great arteries, that 
the life-blood of commerce may flow freely. 



and labor be removed by common consent, 
and by enlightened statesmanship worthy' 
of the nineteenth century. Opposition is de- 
clared, also, to excessive salaries, high rates 
of interest, and exorbitant per cent, profits 
in trade, as greatly increasing the burdens 
of the people, and bearing no proper pro- 
portion to the profits of producers. 

The relations of the grange movement 
to political parties and questions have 
formed, almost from the first, the subject 
of universal criticism. It is emphatically 



GREAT AISTD MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



941 



declared, however, as the oft-repeated truth 
taught in the organic law of the order, that 
the grange, national, state, or subordinate, 
is not a political or j)arty organization ; 
and yet, while no grange, if true to its obli- 
gations, can discuss political or religious 
questions, nor call political conventions or 
nominate candidates, nor ever discuss their 
merits in its meetings, the principles enun- 
ciated bj' the order are, it is claimed, such 
jis underlie all true politics and all true 
statesmanship, and, if properly carried out, 
tending to purifj' the whole political atmos- 
phere of the country ; that, though seek- 
ing the greatest good to the greatest num- 
ber, no one by becoming a grange member 
gives up that inalienable right and duty 
which belong to every American citizen, 
to take a proper interest in the politics of 
his country. On the contrary, the grange 
pronounces it to be the right and duty of 
every member to do all in his power legiti- 
mately to influence, for good, the action of 
any political party to which he belongs ; 
that it is his duty to do all he can, in his 
own party, to put down bribery, corrup- 
tion, and trickery, — to see that none but 
competent, faithful, and honest men, who 
will unflinchingly stand by the interests of 
the order are nominated for all positions of 
trust, — the governing principle in this re- 
spect to be, that the office should seek the 
man and not the man the office. The 
broad principle is acknowledged, that dif- 
ference of opinion is no crime, and that 
progress towards truth is made by differ- 
ences of opinion, while the fault lies in bit- 
terness of controversy. A proper equality, 
equity and fairness, protection for the 
weak, restraint upon the strong, — in short, 
justly distributed burdens, and justly dis- 
tributed power, — the grange holds to be 
American ideas, the verj' essence of Amer- 
ican independence, to advocate the con- 
trary being unworthj' the sons and daugh- 
ters of an American republic. Cherishing 
the belief, too, that sectionalism is and of 
right should be dead and buried with the 
past, the order declares its work to be for 
the present and future, and consequently 
recognizes in its agricultural brotherhood. 



and its associational purposes, no north, 
no south, no east, no west, and to every 
member is reserved the freeman's right to 
affiliate with any party that will best carry 
out his principles. 

The wonderful growth of the grange 
movement, especially throughout the west, 
is asserted by Mr. J. K. Hudson, an in- 
telligent and reliable authority, to have 
been without a parallel in the history of 
associational movements in this country ; 
and this fact he attributes to the condition 
of the public mind which existed at the 
time of the founding of the movement, — 
the prevailing feeling of distrust towards 
the organized interests of every kind then 
existing, the common indignation against 
the injustice of the unfair distribution of 
profits, the prevailing discrimination 
against agricultural labor which was, j'ear 
after year, constantly kept alive in the 
minds of the farmers of the west by the 
fast decreasing profits, buying goods sold 
at heavi/ profits, pacing burdensome taxes 
brought upon them by unscrupulous rings 
which had squandered and stolen the pub- 
lic funds, while the result of the year's 
product and sale showed a loss to honest 
labor. 

Such a remarkable feature in American 
life as the rise and progress of this move- 
ment has not failed to attract attention in 
foreign lands, and particularly in England. 
Thus, at the Social Science Congress of 
Great Britain, assembled in 1875, the Earl 
of Roseberry, president of the association, 
after speaking of the various 'Unions' to 
be found in the United States, such as the 
Sons of Toil, the Brethren of Labor, etc., 
characterized as incomparably above these, 
"the gigantic association of Patrons of 
Husbandry, commonly called the Grange, 
a great agricultural, co-operative, inde- 
pendent union. Its progress has been 
amazing. Its first grange, or lodge, was 
formed in the last month of 1SG7 ; there 
are at this moment 20,500, with 1,311,226 
members, and at the end of the year it is 
certain that they will have thirty thousand, 
with two million members. The order is 
practically identified with the agricultural 



942 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 




GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



943 



population of twenty-six states, and with 
two-thirds of the farmers in ten others. 
In Missouri alone there are said to be 
2,150 granges ; they are making their 
wa3' in Canada. Pennsylvania began the 
year with six lodges, and at this moment 
she has eight hundred." In regard to the 
cause of this prodigious increase, the earl 
thinks it easily accounted for, in view of 
the fact that, as alleged, the membership 
adds not less than fifty per cent, to the 
income of the order; and their enterprise 
and importance are further made manifest 
by the fact, as stated, that the California 
grangers have their own fleet, and ship 
their corn direct to Liverpool, by which 
they saved two million dollars, in freights, 
in a single year, — their vessels bringing, 
as return cargoes, tea, sugar, coffee, silk, 
and other commodities, which are retailed 
to members at cost price, and a system is 
being organized by which their ships re- 
turn with loads of every foreign article 
which the members may need, thus mak- 
ing them an indejjendent mercantile na- 
tion. In a similar strain, it is remarked 
by Mr. Leavitt, an ardent advocate of the 
order, that, although the fact be a disa- 
greeable one to some classes of non-pro- 
ducers, it is none the less undeniable that 
the rugged health of the movement arises 
from its direct bearing ujjon the pockets 
of its members, — the chief advantage be- 
ing the wholesale buying and selling 
which is done through the machinery of 
the order, differing, of course, in different 
states ; thus, in the west, a large part of 
the gain is from the wholesale disposal of 
grain, and its handling through grange 
elevators, while, in the south, planters 
have saved large sums by using the grange 
agents in disjjosing of their cotton. 

This last named consideration appears 
to be a vital point in the principles and 
aims of the grangers, and is urged very 
strongly in the writings of those who are 
the acknowledged spokesmen of the order. 
According to the argument of Mr. Aiken, 
a leading member at the south, the philos- 
ophy of the order is based upon the idea 
of affording mutual benefit to the producer 



and consumer by bringing them together. 
This position he enforces by stating the 
disadvantage the farmer labors under, by 
the system of trade at present carried on. 
To dispose of his crop as he pleases, says 
Mr. Aiken, is an enjojable privilege, and, 
when he exchanges his products for the 
cash in hand he experiences a satisfaction 
not suggested by the receipt of bills of sale 
made at a distance ; those who buy from 
the farmer in a home market, however, 
are most generally speculators, or ' middle- 
men ' of the genuine stamp ; they buy 
simply to sell at a profit, and if they, by 
their better judgment and astuteness, can 
realize a handsome profit upon their in- 
vestment, they should not be condemned 
as tradesmen. If A buys B's crop, and 
nets fifty per cent, upon the purchase, he 
was no more to blame than B was for sell- 
ing to him ; both transactions were legiti- 
mate, but the result would show there was 
something erroneous in this method of 
dealing — the error was that farmer B did 
not properly comprehend the ' tricks of 
trade,' he had not studied the difference 
between wholesale and retail, between lo- 
cal and through freights, between individ- 
ual and combined efforts, between isola- 
tion and co-operation. The purchase of a 
single article, the shipment of a single 
crop, the efforts of a single individual, are 
all alike in their results, and of minor 
importance to tradesmen ; but where the 
purchases are made by wholesale, crops 
are grouped together for shipment, and the 
entire transaction submitted to a single 
disbursing agent, the commission on sales 
is diminished, the cost of transportation 
is reduced, and the aggregated profits be- 
come a handsome amount. Just so the 
' middleman ' acts ; he buys individuallj', 
but groups his purchases and ships col- 
lectively, — is his own disbursing agent, 
and pockets the results of his profitable 
labors. It is exactly in this capacity that 
the grange proposes to act for the farmer. 
Similar in its spirit and principles of 
fraternity and co-operation is the organiza- 
tion, so increasingly prosperous, known as 
the Sovereigns of Industrj-. As defined 



944 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



b^' Mr. Alger, a prominent exponent of 
the society's aims, its members maintain 
that t]ie true desideratum is to raise the 
quality and quantity of every sort of use- 
ful production to the maximum, and to 
reduce the cost both of creation and distri- 
bution to the minimum ; and, with this 
end in view, holding that men should be 
producers of good in some form, and that 
their sum of goods will be perfected by 
equitable exchanges, they have already 
begun the systematic organization of a 
method of bringing all kinds of producers 
and consumers into direct contact, for 
their common gain and to the universal 
advantage, — the system being intended to 
prevent the waste of labor, and to put an 
end to the exaction of profit without any 
correspondent creation of value or use, and 
to swallow up the bitter rivalries and ani- 
mosities of labor and capital and trade in 
an inclusive harmonizing of them all. In 
the further declaration of the purposes of 



the order, upon which its action as above 
indicated is based, it is urged that the 
master principle of a true civilization must 
be the direct application of labor to the 
production of the goods of life. In utter 
opposition, however, to this, is the applica- 
tion of artifice to obtain money from those 
who possess it, in order that the obtainer 
ma}' command the goods of life without 
producing them. The only real remedy, 
— sa^'s the declaration of this order, — is 
the overthrow of the existing monopolj' 
and gambling concentrated in the present 
system of money, and the assignment of 
its just prerogatives to productive labor; 
an end mus^ be put to all those forms of 
speculation which simply transfer money 
from hand to hand without any use or 
equivalent, and an end must bo put also to 
the enormous profits exacted by the dis- 
tributors of goods who create no value but 
get rich out of the earnings of productive 
labor. 



ex. 



TRIAL OF REV. H. W. BEECHER, FOR ADULTERY WITH 

MRS. THEODORE TILTON, AS CHARGED BY 

HER HUSBAND.— 1875. 



The Name of the Accused, as Preacher, Author, and Reformer, Co-extensive with Christianity and 
Civilization, — Story of the Plaintiff, of the Wife, and of the Defendant. — The Longest and Most 
Bitter Contest in American Judicial Annals. — A Wide-spread Social Tragedy. — Suffocating Crowds 
Fill the Hall. — Array of Eminent Counsel. — Mrs. Tilton and Mrs. Beecher Attend Daily. — Flowers 
and Applause — Activity of the Press and Telegraph — Foundation of the Terrible Charges. — Dam- 
ages Laid at One Hundred Thousand Dollars. — Mrs. Tilton's Confessions to Her Husband. — A 
Retraction Obtained by Mr. Beecher. — Mr. Moulton, for Mr. Tilton, Demands its Return. — Explana- 
tions by Mr. Beecher. — Denial of any Improprieties. — Mr. Tilton's Appearance on the Stand. — Nature 
of the Defense. — Mr. Beecher in His Own Behalf — Mrs. Tilton's Appeal to the Court. — One Hundred 
and Eleven Witnesses Called. — Great Conflict of Testimony. — Opinion and Rulings of the Judge. — 
The Jury Seven Days Out. — Their Final Disagreement. 



' There has been no sensation like it in thia generation."— Boston Dailt Adtebtiseb. 



^S' EYOND any and all other events, of its kind, dur- 
S^S^^ i"g the century, the trial of Eev. Henry Ward 
Beecher, for nearly thirty years pastor of the 
Plymouth church, Brooklyn, N. Y., for adultery 
with Mrs. Theodore Tilton, as charged by her hus- 
band, excited the public mind, from one end of the 
land to the other, and this continued, with una- 
bated intensity, until the final issue of the case, 
nearly six months after. 

Eager crowds daily attended the suffocating hall 
of justice, during all this period — the longest and 
most bitter judicial contest in the annals of Amer- 
ican jurisprudence, — the most powerful legal talent 
of the bar of New York and elsewhere composing 
the counsel of the respective parties to the suit, 
.such advocates as Morris, Beach, Fullerton, Pryor, 
and others, for the plaintiff, being matched against 
Evarts, Porter, Tracy, Shearman, Abbott, and 
others, for the defendant. And over this distin- 
guished court — its extraordinary scenes and actors, 
and momentous interests, — it is worthy of record, 
11. w. BEECHER. Ill this placc, that Judge Neilson presided with a 
wisdom, dignity, and impartiality, that won for him universal and enduring eulogy. 
60 




SCENE DURING Till; 



946 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177(3-1876. 



Mrs. Tilton, seated with Mr. Beecher's 
friends, was in almost daily attendance ; 
distinguished public men, from all parts 
of the country, were visitors to the court ; 
flowers and applause were liberally be- 
stowed upon the plaintiff and defendant, 
by their respective supporters; the tele- 
graph flashed hourly reports of the pro- 
ceedings to all parts of the land ; and the 
great metropolitan journals teemed with 
extra issues. 

Of the two great characters in this legal 
and social tragedy, Henry Ward Beecher 
and Theodore Tilton, it is safe to say that 
each had attained a shining eminence, 
almost unequaled, in their respective 
spheres. As a preacher, author, and re- 
former, the name of Mr. Beecher was 
co-extensive with the area of Christendom 
and civilization. He was, in the language 
of the ablest New England journal that 
espoused the cause of his opponent, the 
most splendid, the most inspiring, and the 
most beloved figure before the American 
people, — he had not only toiled and fought, 
with tremendous effect, in the great strug- 
gle to free at once the slave and the nation, 
but he was swift to preach a higher and 
more generous and vital Christianity than 
the American pulpit had ever yet uttered, 
— and, after the successive deaths of his 
great contemporaries, he remained the 
great man of the American people. For 
nearly thirty years he had ministered to 
the same church, and that the largest 
Protestant church on the continent. Of 
this church, Mrs. Tilton had been a devout 
member from her girlhood, as also had 
Mr. Tilton for a period of years prior to 
1870, the closest personal intimacy exist- 
ing between the three. Of Mr. Tilton, and 
his career, the same journal, already cited, 
speaks as a man who, assuming the editorial 
chair of the "Independent," became the idol 
and the weekly teacher of a vast constitu- 
ency of readers, — a man of impulses and 
affections no less broad and ardent than Mr. 
Beecher's, adding to these, in his writings, a 
style trenchant and vigorous. As a scholar, 
orator, and journalist, ^Ir. Tilton occupied 
a place in the very foremost rank. 



On the eleventh day of Januarj-, 1875, 
and thereafter for nearly six consecutive 
months, the Brooklyn Cit^' Court assem- 
bled, daj' after day, to try this memorable 
action at law by Mr. Tilton against Mr. 
Beecher, the damages being laid at one 
hundred thousand dollars. 

The terrible charges upon which Mr. 
Tilton founded his suit were, briefly, as 
follows : That for a series of j-ears Mr. 
Beecher continued a friendship with Mrs. 
Tilton, until the year 1870, during which 
jicriod, by many tokens and attentions, he 
won her love, so that, after long moral 
resistance by her, and after repeated as- 
saults bj' him upon her mind, with over- 
mastering arguments, he accomplished the 
possession of her person, maintaining with 
her thereafter, namely, from the autumn 
of 18G8 to the spring of 1870, the relation 
of criminal intercourse. 

The ground for these charges, as alleged 
by Mr. Tilton, consisted, mainly, of a 
circumstantial confession made to him by 
Mrs. Tilton, in Julj-, 1870, of this criminal 
relation, accompanied by citations from 
Mr. Beecher's arguments and reasonings 
with her to overcome her scruples against 
yielding to his desires. 

On the evening of December 30, 1870, 
Mr. Tilton conveyed to Mr. Beecher, 
through the hand of an old friend, Mr. 
Francis D. Moulton, a request for an inter- 
view at the house of the latter. On this 
occasion, Mr. Tilton drew !Mr. Beecher's 
attention to a written paper containing, he 
stated, the substance of the confession 
hitherto made by Mrs. Tilton. This paper 
furnished to Mr. Beecher the first knowl- 
edge he had as yet received of any such 
divulgences by Mrs. Tilton, and, at the 
close of the interview, being informed by 
Jlr. Tilton that he could 'verify the state- 
ments, if he wished, by going to see Mrs. 
Tilton herself, he repaired, that same night, 
to her residence, where she lay on her 
sick bed. Mr. Beecher states, of this 
visit, that he informed her he had just 
come from the presence of her husband, 
who had been making serious charges 
against him. "Elizabeth, he tells me you 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



947 



confessed to him that I had made improper 
advances ; is that so ? " She bowed her 
head. He then, expostulating with her, 
said, " You know this isn't true ; wherein 
have I acted wrongly toward you ; how 
could you have done such a thing ? " 
She began, speaking slowly, to answer 
that she could not help it ; she was urged 
to do so by her husband, the latter per- 
suading her that if she confessed to an 
undue affection for him, Beecher, it would 
be easier for Tilton to confess his own 
alien loves, and that this would be the 
beginning of a new and better life. Mr. 
Beecher urged that, as she had written a 




charge against him, she should write a 
retraction ; she replied, that it might injure 
her husband ; he said he should not use it 
in that way, but wanted it to defend him- 
self, if the matter ever came before the 
church ; then, by her directions, he got pen 
and paper, and she wrote : " Wearied with 
importunity and weakened by sickness, I 
gave a letter inculpating my friend, Henry 
Ward Beecher, under assurances that it 
would remove all difSculties between me 
and my husband. That letter I now 
revoke. I was persuaded to it, almost 
forced, when I was in a weakened state of 
mind. I regret it, and recall all its state- 
ments. I desire to say, explicitly, Mr. 
Beecher has never offered any improper 
solicitation, but has always treated me in 



a manner becoming a Christian and a 
gentleman." With this retraction, Mr. 
Beecher left for his home. 

The next important step was that taken 
by Mr. Tilton, who, learning from his 
wife, on returning home that evening, 
that such a paper had been written by 
her at Mr. Beecher's instance, the next 
day deputed Mr. Moulton to obtain from 
Mr. Beecher the retraction in question, 
charging that it had been unfairly pro- 
cured, and, after an earnest discussion, 
Mr. Beecher finally yielded to the demand 
made upon him, though with extreme 
reluctance. 

In a subsequent interview with Mr. 
Moulton — who now, as well as for some 
years after, acted as the medium of com- 
munication between Messrs. Tilton and 
Beecher, — the latter is reported, by Mr. 
Moulton, to have expressed great contri- 
tion and remorse for his previous crimin- 
ality with Mrs. Tilton, and, on being told, 
by Mr. Moulton, that such expressions of 
his feelings, if conveyed in a written form 
to Mr. Tilton, would be very acceptable, 
dictated to Mr. Moulton the following : 
" I ask, through you, Theodore Tilton's 
forgiveness, and I humble myself before 
him, as I do before my God. He would 
have been a better man in my circum- 
stances than I have been. I can ask noth- 
ing, except that he will remember all the 
other hearts that would ache. I will not 
plead for myself. I even wish I were dead ; 
but others must live and suffer. I will 
die before any one but myself shall be 
implicated. All my thoughts are running 
toward my friends, toward the poor child 
lying there and praying with folded hands. 
She is guiltless — sinned against ; bearing 
the transgression of another. Her for- 
giveness I have. I humbly pray to God 
that he may put it into the heart of her 
husband to forgive me." This document, 
with the exception of the words, separate 
by themselves, "I have trusted this to 
Moulton in confidence," was in the hand- 
writing of Mr. Moulton, who asserted that 
it was positively the language used by 
Mr. Beecher ; — the latter, however, em- 



948 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



pbatically denying, in court, the authen- 
ticity of the document, or that it correctly 
rendered the words he used in acknowl- 
edging his grief at having brought, by his 
advice, sorrow and division into tlie Tilton 
family, or that it related in any sense to 
adultery. 

In regard to tliis document, which was, 
perhaps, the pivot upon which the plain- 
tiff's case mainly hung, and on the occa- 
sion of the writing of which Mr. Moulton 
asserted, in his testimony, that adultery 
was the crime distinct!}' spoken of by 
himself and Mr. ]5cecher, the latter de- 
clared, when testifying, that its origin lay 




solely in the advice he had some time pre- 
viously given, that a separation ought to 
take place between Mr. and Mrs. Tilton, 
because of tlie unhappy life led by the 
latter, and his subsequent sorrow at the 
deplorable results thus wrought. In addi- 
tion to this, Mr. Beecher imputed to him- 
self the dismissal of Mr. Tilton from the 
high and lucrative editorial positions which 
he held in New York and Brookl^'n, thus 
bringing immeasurable trouble and mis- 
fortune upon Mr. Tilton and his family. 

Of all the one hundred and eleven wit- 
nesses in this wonderful case, there were 
three who testified to personal declarations 
on the part of Mr. Beecher, in which he 
acknowledged the fact of adultery, namely, 
Mr. Tilton, Mr. Moulton, and Mrs. Moul- 



ton ; and, in corroboration of their evi- 
dence on this point, the two first named 
exhibited a large number of letters of 
friendship and affection which had passed 
between Mrs. Tilton and the defendant ; 
and also between the latter and Mr. Moul- 
ton, expressing admiration for Mr. Moul- 
ton as the best friend God had ever raised 
up for him in this world, — the chief stress 
laid by Mr. Beecher in these letters of 
anguish, being the great value of Mr. 
Moulton's services in keeping the matter 
from publicity, and in controlling the re- 
sentments of Mr. Tilton. This corre- 
spondence with Mrs. Tilton, however, Mr. 
Beecher explained as being in no wise 
secret, but growing out of the intimate 
friendly and pastoral relations he had 
sustained toward her from her very cliild- 
hood, and for years subsequently toward 
both her and her husband ; and, of his 
correspondence and intercourse with Mr. 
Moulton, he acknowledged his great ob- 
jcit to be to prevent the damaging effect 
that would result to so many hearts, and 
to the cause of religion, by a disclosure, 
to the world, of accusations against his 
moral puritj' or integrity. 

The most startling testimony, so con- 
sidered, against Mr. Beecher, was that 
preferred by Mrs. Francis D. Moulton, 
who narrated a conversation stated by 
her to have taken place between Mr. 
Beecher and herself, at her residence, June 
2, 1873. On this occasion, after de[)loring, 
with agony and tears, his adultery with 
Mrs. Tilton, he spoke of its being, probably, 
the last conversation he would ever have 
with her — Mrs. Moulton, — that it was use- 
less any longer to try to live tlye matter 
down, — expressed great sorrow for the mis- 
ery he had brought upon himself and Mrs. 
Tilton, and great remorse and sorrow that 
she should ever have confessed to her hus- 
band, for it would bring only ruin in the 
end to all ; said that he was resolved to 
take his life — that he had a powder on his 
library table, which he had prepared to 
take, and should sink quietly off, as if 
going to sleep, without a struggle ; that 
Mrs. Tilton was not a bad woman at heart, 



GREAT AISTD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



949 



but had sinned through her affections. 
Mrs. Moulton testified that the interview 
lasted three or four hours, all in this 
strain, Mr. Beecher being very much ex- 
cited, the tears streaming down his face, 
and saying that he had suffered the tor- 
tures of the damued, etc., etc. 

To this narrative by Mrs. Moulton, Mr. 
Beecher gave explicit denial on the stand, 
testifying that no such language was used 
by him ; that at the time of the alleged 
occurrence of the interview he was at 
other, specified, places ; and that at no 
time had he ever contemplated suicide. 

The story told by Mr. Tilton, — who, by 
the laws of New York could testify, under 
certain restrictions, in this case, though 




his wife was debarred, — occupied nearly 
two weeks, and was a most circumstantial 
recital of the happiness which character- 
ized his home and his marriage relations, 
before, as he alleged, the alienation of his 
wife's affections, and her seduction, by 
Mr. Beecher. His manner was self-pos- 
sessed, and his enunciation deliberate, 
with a careful selection of words, and he 
seemed to need little questioning, — a cue 
being all that was required to bring from 
him a whole chapter of personal and fam- 
ily history connected, immediately or indi- 
rectly, with the great and mysterious scan- 
dal ; nor did he seem to any disadvantage 
under the rigid and acute cross-examination 
to which he was, day after day, subjected, 
— a remark which may, perhaps, with about 
equal appropriateness, be applied to all the 
chief witnesses, on either side. 

In the progress of the trial, the remark- 



able scene occurred of Mrs. Tilton rising 
in court, and, addressing the judge, saj'ing, 
" I have a communication which I beg 
your Honor will read aloud, or have read 
aloud, before the opening of this session." 
After a slight pause, Judge Neilson, to 
whom the document had been passed by 
Mr. Evarts, replied that the matter would 
be considered deliberately. In this docu- 
ment, which was subsequently returned to 
her as not coming within the official recog- 
nition of the court, Mrs. Tilton declared, 
among other things : " I have been so 
sensible, since your last session, of the 
power of my enemies, that my soul cries 
out before you and the gentlemen of the 
jury, that they beware how, by a divided 
verdict, they consign to my children a 
false and irrevocable stain upon their 
mother. For five years past, I have been 
the victim of circumstances most cruel and 
unfortunate, struggling from time to time 
only for a place to live honorably and 
truthfully. Released for some months 
from the will by whose power uncon- 
sciously I criminated myself again and 
again, I declare solemnly before j'ou, with- 
out fear of man and by faith in God, that 
I am innocent of the crimes charged 
against me." Before the close of the 
trial, the plaintiff's counsel announced 
their willingness, notwithstanding the law, 
that Mrs. Tilton be called to the stand by 
the defendant's counsel, if the latter wish- 
ed ; but the offer was declined, on pro- 
fessedly legal grounds, though strong ob- 
jections had been urged, bj' the same coun- 
sel, against Mr. Tilton's testifj'ing, when, 
by the law, Mrs. Tilton's lips must be 
sealed. The judge, however, expressed his 
special gratification at her not being called. 
It is not overstating the truth of the 
case, that Mr. Beecher's appearance on the 
stand was the culminating point of inter- 
est in this intensely exciting social and 
legal drama. On Mr. Evarts saying, "Mr. 
Beecher, will you be sworn ? "' he, with a 
look and smile at his wife, who, through 
the daily sessions of the court, from mid- 
winter to midsummer, was constantly 
seated at his side, passed to the witness 



950 



OUR FIRST CEXTURY.— 1776-1876. 



chair, wearing the same fixed, placid look, 
which he had worn throughout the trial, 
and he sat there with a manner entirely 
unconstrained, as if iu his own pulpit or 
lecture-room. Like most of the witnesses, 
on either side, his examination covered a 
wide range, and, to all the charges or tes- 
timony involving criminality on his part, 
he gave most emphatic and sweeping 
denials, as the following will show: — 

Question hy Mr. Evarts. — Was there 
ever any undue familiarity between Mrs. 
Tilton and yourself ? 

Answer. — Never, sir. 

Question. — Did you ever solicit or re- 
ceive any undue favor from her as a woman ? 

Answer. — Xever, sir, and it would be 
impossible to her. 

Question. — Did j'ou ever, in the course 
of your acquaintance, have carnal inter- 
course, or sexual connection, with Mrs. 
Tilton ? 

Answer. — No, sir ; never, sir. 

All these replies were made with intense 
energy ; and, meeting, as they did, cate- 
gorically, the direct issue presented in the 
action before the court, constituted the 
defendant's answer, under oath, to the 
plaintiff's complaint and allegations. Sim- 
ilar were the replies made by the great 
defendant, in the closing words of his pro- 
longed examination by Mr. Evarts, as fol- 
lows : — 

Question. — I a.sk j'ou, whether Mr. Til- 
ton I'ver used to you, or in your presence, 
any language of accusation, of imputation, 
or of intimation, that there had ever been 
criminal intercourse between yourself and 
Mrs. Tilton ? 

Answer. — He never did. 

Question. — Did Mr. Moulton, in all his 
intercourse with you, in any of his conver- 
sations with you, on the subject of your 
relations with Mrs. Tilton, or anj' of the 
subjects connected- therewith, that formed 
the topics of conversation between you at 
any time, make any accusation, or imputa- 
tion, or intimation, of sexual intercourse 
between yourself and Mrs. Tilton ? 

Answer. — He never did, sir. 

A prominent feature in the line of de- 



fense adopted by Mr. Beecher's counsel, 
though scarcely, or onl^- guardedly, admit- 
ted by Mr. Beecher in his evidence, was 
that of conspiracy against Mr. Beecher, 
with a view to blackmail ; it appearing 
that, during the last few years, some seven 
thousand dollars had been paid out b}- Mr. 
Beecher, in connection with the matter, 
and the counsel further alleging that, not 
until after Mr. Tilton's dismissal from his 
editorial positions, did he bring any charge 
against Mr. Beecher, — beginning, then, 
first with the accusation of improper pro- 
posals, and subsequently asserting adul- 
tery. The amount of testimony on these 
points, on either side, was immense, rami- 
fying in multifarious and irrelevant direc- 
tions, and so conflicting in every particular 
that was essential, that even professional 
experts in such reading were lost in its 
mazes: The judge, however, in his charge, 
expressed the opinion that Mr. Beecher's 
advances of money — which, through Mr. 
Moulton, went to the benefit of Mr. Tilton 
and family, — appeared to be mere acts of 
generosity, and that the money was not 
extorted by Mr. Moulton. Among the 
other opinions or rulings of the judge, of 
special interest, were the following : that, 
upon the evidence adduced by the plain- 
tiff, the defendant was the only witness 
who had any actual knowledge of what the 
relations between himself and Mrs. Tilton 
were, and was the only person whom the 
law permitted to speak as a witness to 
those relations; and that the intimacy and 
intercourse which, bv the accepted rules 
of social order, are allowed between a 
married woman and her legal adviser, 
physician, or pastor, are greater than 
those which are considered proper where 
no such special relation exists. 

On the jury retiring, they took with 
them the volumes containing the evidence 
and the judge's charge and rulings, cora- 
]irising over five thousand closely printed 
double-column pages — showing the vast- 
ness of the case. They were out the 
unprecedented period of seven days, but 
failed to agree, finally standing nine for 
the defendant and three for the i)laintiff. 



CXI. 

CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION OF THE BIRTH OF THE 

REPUBLIC— 1S7G. 



Year of Jubilee, Festival, and Pageant, tlirougliout tlie Land. — Prosperity, Power, and Renown of the 
Nation — A Union of Nearly Forty Great Commonwealths and Forty Million People. — Anticipations 
of the Coming Anniversary. — Legislation by Congress for its Patriotic Observance — A Grand Exposi- 
tion of the Century's Growth and Progress, the Principal Feature Decided Upon — Vast Worli of 
Preparation. — Tlie Whole World at Peace, and All Countries and Climes in Synipatliy witli the 
Republic and its Auspicious Era. — Ushering in the Year's Ceremonials — Every City, Town, and 
Village, Covered with Gay Streamers and Waving F'lags. — Pomp, Parade, and Universal Fraterniza- 
tion. — Wondrous Microcosm of Civilization Concentrated at Philadelphia. — The Culminating Art 
and Skill of Sixty Centuries of Human Advancement, and the Products of Every Quarter of the 
Globe, Displayed in their Richest Illustrations. — An Unprecedented Scene : President and Emperor 
Receiving the Salutations of the American People. — Oratory, Music, Poetry, Bells, Illuminations, 
Cannon, Regattas, Banners, Hallelujahs and Huzzas. — The Beauty, Utility, and Magnificence of the 
Orient and Occident, in Boundless Combinations. — The " Glorious Fourth," All Over the Land. 
— Congratulatory Letter from the Emperor of Germany. 



" The completion of the firat century ofournatlonal existence ahould l>e commemomted by an Exhibition of the natural reaources of the 
country and their development, and of its progress in those arts which benefit inanltind."— Pbesident Gbant's Message to Coxonsss. 




HOUSE IN WUICU TUyM.V.S .1 i;Fl EltSuN WIluTt: THE HECLAEATION 
OF IXDEl'ENUENCE. 



|JNE hundred years after the Dec- 
laration of Independence at Phil- 
adeljjhia, which great event gave 
birth and national sovereigntj' to 
a new Republic, the centennial 
commemoration of that august act 
filled the land with such festival 
and pageant of joy, as only a free 
people — prosperous, powerful, and 
renowned, — could be expected to 
exhibit. From a feeble beginning, 
of thirteen weakly colonies, with 
:i scattered population of three 
million people, struggling with 
war and debt, they had now at- 
tained to the colossal growth of 



nearly forty great commonwealths and forty million inhabitants, and, in respect to 
whatever relates to m^n's material and moral advancement, found themselves unexcelled 
by any empire or kingdom on the face of the wide earth. 



952 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Anticipations of the coming anniversary 
had long been prominent in the minds of 
the j)eople, and, in view of the peculiarly 
national character of the event, it was at 
an early stage of the discussion brought 
before the assembled wisdom of the repub- 
lic, in the halls of congress, the result of 
which was the adoption of the idea that 
had for some time become widely popular, 
namely, that an exhibition of American 
and foreign arts, products, and manufac- 
tures be held, under the auspices of the 
government of the United States, in the 
city of Philadelphia, in the year 1876. 
To this end, the centennial commission 
was appointed — two commissioners from 
each state and territory, nominated by 
their respective governors, and approved 
by the president. Under this organiza- 
tion, the vast work of preparation com- 
menced, and, on the fourth of July, 1873, 
the ground set apart for the purpose was 
dedicated with appropriate ceremonies. 
The result of the succeeding three years 
of labor on the part of the commission, 
showed that not only from every section of 
our own land did the choicest contributions 
accumulate in every department of art, 
science, and mechanism, but that all for- 
eign countries also, — in response to the 
invitation extended to them by the Amer- 
ican government, — were in sympathy with 
the Republic and its auspicious era; so 
that, at the time designated for the grand 
ushering in of the year's ceremonials, there 
was presented the most wondrous micro- 
cosm of civilization ever concentrated in 
one locality. There was, in fact, the cul- 
minating art and skill of sixty centuries 
of human advancement, and the products 
of every quarter of the globe, displayed in 
their richest illustrations, — the beauty, 
utility, and magnificence, of the Orient 
and Occident, in boundless combinations. 

On the day of the formal inauguration 
of the exposition, and at which were pres- 
ent hundreds of thousands of joyous spec- 
tators, with dignitaries from both hemi- 
spheres, the occasion was apjiropriately 
introduced by the vast orchestra perform- 
ing the national airs of all nations, as fol- 



lows : The Washington March ; Argen- 
tine Republic, Marche de la Republica; 
Austria, Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser; 
Belgium, La Brabansonne ; Brazil, Hymno 
Brasileira Nacional; Denmark, Volkslied 
— den tappre Landsoldat; France, La 
Marseillaise; Germany, Was ist des 
Deutschen Vaterland ; Great Britain, God 
Save the Queen ; Itah', JLircia del Re ; 
Xetherlands, Wie neerlandsch bloed ; Nor- 
way, National Hymn; Russia, National 
Hymn ; Spain, Riego's Spanish National 
Hymn ; Sweden, Yolksongen — Bevare Gud 
var Kung; Switzerland, Heil dir Helve- 
tia ; Turkey, March ; Hail Columbia. 

Following this musical prelude, the bold 
chords of Wagner's centennial inauguration 
march filled the air with floods of richest 
harmony ; solemn prayer was offered by 
Bishop Simpson ; and then a superb chorus 
of nearly a thousand voices, accompanied 
by orchestra and organ, sang Whittier's 
centennial hymn, set to music by John K. 
Payne. Formal presentation being now 
made of the building to the United States 
Centennial Commission by the president 
of the board of finance to General Hawley, 
president of the centennial commission, a 
cantata was sung with fine effect, the 
words by Lanier, of Georgia, and the 
music by Buck, after which the ceremo- 
nial presentation of the Exhibition to the 
President of the L^nited States was m.ade 
by General Hawlej', in tin eloquent address, 
to which General Grant responded in a 
eulogistic speech of acceptance, reviewing 
the progress of the century, bidding the 
whole world welcome, and declaring the 
exhibition open. On this announcement, 
the orchestra, chorus and great organ bur.st 
forth into triumphal strains of the ' Halle- 
lujah,' from the "Messiah," acclamations 
and huzzas rent the air ; and the unprec- 
edented spectacle was witnessed, of an 
American President and a crowned Empe- 
ror — the emperor of Brazil being present, 
and at President Grant's side, — receiving 
the enthusiastic salutations of the Ameri- 
can people. 

Tlie case of Dom Pedro, it may be here 
remarked, furnishes the onlv instance in 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



953 




954 



OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



tlie liistory of our ccntitrv, of a rci<jning 
crowned head visiting the United States, 
^vith the exception of Kalakaua, king of 
the Sandwich IsLands, whose tour occur- 
red in 1874-5. 

And here maj' be cited one of the most 
notable scenes which transpired on this 
wonderful occasion, namely, the starting 
of the stupendous engine constructed by 
Mr. Corliss, which was to move the four- 
teen acres of machinery, comprising some 
eight thousand different machines, in the 
building devoted to that specialty. This 
starting operation was performed jointly 
by President Grant and Emperor Dom 
Pedro II., under the direction of Mr. Cor- 
liss. These two great personages took the 




positions assigned them by Mr. Corliss, 
who explained by a motion of the hands 
and a word or two, as to how the engines 
were to be started by the single turning 
of a slender steel arm, like the brake of a 
street railway car, — this action opening 
the throttle valve, and then the vast but 
quiet building would be instantly alive 
with all the functions of every kind of a 
factory in full practice. The time had 
arrived for the movement, and a most 
imjiosing array of eminent officials sur- 
rounded the president and emperor. 
" Now, Mr. President," said Mr. Corliss. 
"Well," said the president, quietly, "how 



shall I do it ? " The answer was, "Turn 
that little crank around six times." Pres- 
ident Grant made a motion with his fin- 
gers, inquiringly, " This way ? " " Yes." 
In another half minute, the screw was 
turned by the president, the colossal ma- 
chine above him began to move, the miles 
of shafting along the building began to 
revolve, innumerable steel and iron organ- 
isms were set going, and a visitor who 
retraced his steps could examine the proc- 
esses of half the important manufactures on 
the globe. At the wave of Mr. Corliss's 
hand, the emperor gave a sharp turn of 
his wrist and started his engine a moment 
in advance of the president; but the re- 
sponse of the machinery at the single 
touch of these two men — countless wheels 
turning, bands beginning their rounds, 
cogs fitting into their places, pistons driv- 
ing backward and forward and up and 
down, performing their infinitely varied 
functions — was so almost simultaneous, 
that few suspected that the Brazilian 
monarch had outstripjied his host. This 
engine weighs eight hundred tons; will 
drive eight miles of shafting ; has a fly- 
wheel thirty- feet in diameter and weigh- 
ing seventy tons ; is of fourteen hundred 
horse-power, with a capacity of being 
forced to twentj'-five Imndred ; has two 
walking-beams, weighing twent^'-two tons 
each ; two forty-inch cylinders, a ten-feet 
stroke, a crank-.shaft nineteen inches in 
diameter and twelve feet in length ; con- 
necting rods twenty-four feet in length, 
and piston rods six and one-fourth inches 
in diameter; height from the floor to the 
top of the walking-beams, thirty-nine feet. 
It was in vastness, power, and ingenuity, 
the mechanical marvel of the exhibition^ 

The plan of construction for the accom- 
modation of the several grand features of 
the exposition, comprised five main build- 
ings conveniently located at different 
points on the five hundred acres devoted 
to centennial purposes, being about one- 
sixth of the area of Fairmount Park, on 
the Schuylkill river, than which no more 
delightful locality could have been selected. 
These structures consisted, respectivel3-, of 



GREAT AND IVIEMOEABLE EVENTS. 



955 



the main building, having an area of about 
twenty-one and a-half acres ; that for ma- 
chinery, fourteen anres ; for agriculture, ten 
acres ; for liorticulture, one and a-half ; 
for art, one and arhalf. In addition to 
these, the number of special structures, 
including the memorial hall, and those 
erected by the United States government, 
by foreign nations, by the different States, 
by the women, etc., etc., was among the 
hundreds. Many of these were of great 
cost and striking architectural beauty, 
and, with statues, fountains, flower plots, 
and other decorative objects innumerable, 
produced a scene of surpassing attraction. 

The variety of special celebrative events, 
in combination with the wondrous display 
of every marvel and masterpiece gathered 
from art and nature in the four continents, 
attending this centennial commemoration, 
may be judged of by the following pro- 
gramme : Harvesting display ; trials of 
steam plows and tillage implements; ex- 
hibition of horses and mules, — of horned 
cattle, — of sheep, swine, goats, and dogs, 
— of poultry; national gathering of the 
Order of Good Templars ; international 
regatta; yacht regatta; gathering of the 
Sons of Temperance ; the Grand Army of 
the Republic ; Knights Templars ; wo- 
men's temperance union ; Am. musical as- 
sociation ; international series of cricket 
matches ; congress of authors in Inde- 
pendence Hall ; parade of Roman Catholic 
societies and dedication of their magnifi- 
cent fountain; parade of military organ- 
izations ; parade of the Knights of Pj'th- 
ias ; international rowing regatta ; inter- 
national rifle matches ; international med- 
ical congress ; parade of the Odd Fellows ; 
reunions of the army of the Potomac, 
Cumberland, and James ; etc., etc. 

Memorial Hall, or the art gallery, a 
most beautiful structure, was erected at 
the expense of the state of Pennsylvania 
and the city of Philadelphia, as a perma- 
nent commemoration of the centennial. 
In its construction, nothing but granite, 
brick, glass and iron, were used. Its su- 
perb hall, pavilions, galleries and arcades, 
are surmounted with a dome of crystal 



and iron, terminating in a colossal bell, 
and, at the apex, Columbia rises, with 
protecting hands. Within these walls, 
the treasures of painting and sculpture 
disjslayed were almost beyond enumera- 
tion — certainly beyond description. 

The colossal proportions of the main 
building struck every visitor's wondering 
attention, — relieved, however, by its ex- 
quisitely artistic form and endless expanse 
of complementary colors, — and, within, a 
universe of the wonderful and beautiful, 
such as the ej'e of man never before be- 
held nor his hand created. The position 
of the nations in this vast structure was 
an interesting matter to determine, being 
finally decided as follows : Within the 
line of railing extending across the en- 
trance, to the north of the nave, the pavil- 
ions of Italy ; passing east, the arrange- 
ment comprised Norway, then Sweden, 
with the English colonies as a neighbor ; 
Canada adjoined, and then the mother 
countrj'. Great Britain, occupying a large 
space down to the transept ; bej'ond En- 
gland was France, and the next in line, 
still on the north of the nave, Switzerland ; 
near the eastern end, and covering as much 
room as France, Switzerland, Belgium, 
Brazil, the Netherlands, and Mexico com- 
bined, the United States exhibited her 
wonderful progress, in innumerable illus- 
trations ; opposite to Great Britain, ap- 
peared the German Empire, alongside 
Austria, and Hungary in the rear; ap- 
proaching still towards the west, but on 
the south side of the nave, came Russia 
and Spain, and, along the nave, followed 
Egypt, Turkej', Denmark, and Sweden, 
while in the rear of these were Tunis, 
Portugal, and the Sandwich Islands ; in 
the front rank was Jajian, facing Norway 
and Sweden, and, next to the latter, and 
back of her, was China ; Chili had a place 
near the entrance from the west, and, near 
by, was the Argentine Rei)ublic. These 
were the locations of the principal nation- 
alities. 

Handsome, and grand in its amplitude, 
and tasty in its harmonies of form and 
color, the machinery building fairlj' be- 



956 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



957 



wildered both the eye and mind of the 
observer, by its ever-varying contents, 
while the prevalent somberness of its acres 
of iron and steel construction was pleas- 
antly relieved by the cheerful coloring. 
Horticultural hall seemed like some fairy 
palace, with its light and airy design, and 
delicate ornamentation, the grand conserv- 
atory alone constituting a world of beauty 



tares ; was built almost entirely of wood 
and glass, and the color a delicate whitish 
tint throughout, — no effort, however, be- 
ing made in the way of ornamentation, 
but simply to have a structure suitable for 
the purpose and in keeping with the char- 
acter of the exhibits. The woman's build- 
ing, or pavilion, devoted entirely to the 
results of woman's skill, was an attractive 




I>'DEPEXDENrE HALL, JL"LV 4, ISTO. 



to all lovers of nature ; in the flower beds 
surrounding this structure, more than 
thirty thousand hyacinth and tulip bulbs 
were planted, to displaj', with thousands 
of other beautiful plants, their full bloom 
on the opening or inauguration daj-. Ag- 
ricultural hall was entirely different in 
appearance from any of the other struc- 



structure, covering some thirty thousand 
square feet, and filled with the dulce et 
utile from all lands. Tlie government 
building, of substantial and elegant de- 
sign, contained a revelation of wonders 
connected with the army and navy, the 
department of agriculture, the post-office, 
patent office, signal service, ordnance bu- 



958 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



reau, light-house board, and all the subor- 
dinate departments and bureaus in any 
way connected with the government. 

In making rui'crence to special objects 
of interest, brief mention is due in the 
case of a piece of silver bullion, in one 
mass, valued at $10,000,000, contributed 
by Messrs. Flood and O'Brien, — a solid 
weight of 294 i tons, or equal to a train of 
nearly thirty loaded freight cars. 

The Smithsonian Institution showed 
every kind of American bird in an im- 
mense group by itself, al.so every kind of 
fish, mollusk, reptile and quadruped. 

Queen Victoria's personal contributions 
comprised a number of etchings by her 
own hand, also table napkins spun by lier- 
self, and drawings and embroideries from 
her princess daughters. 

The Pennsylvania Bible Society circu- 
lated the scriptures in the language of 
every nationality represented on the 
grounds, a pure white flag flo.ating from 
the top of its pavilion, bearing the words 
of Jer. xxii, 29 : "0 Earth, Earth, Earth, 
hear the word of the Lord ! " 

Among the evidences of Connecticut's 
skill was the huge centennial time-piece, 
— a clock weighing six tons and having 
eleven hundred pieces, with wheels four 
feet in diameter. 

A collection of models, sent by Massa- 
chusetts, of the various niarixie craft which 
have been employed in her waters, since 
the first settlement of Pl^^mouth colony 
— some fifty or sixty, most elaborately 
executed, and all perfect in type — from 
the Indian birch canoes and first fishing 
boats used on the coast, up to the most 
improved modern iron-clad, attracted much 
notice. From the Pennsylvania coal mines 
came two blocks of coal, weighing, respec- 
tively, about two and one-fourth and five 
tons; and, from her steel works, a solid 
ingot of steel weighing 25,000 pounds, also 
a perfect steel rail, rolled, 120 feet long, 
and weighing G2 pounds jier yard. 

In the navy department, the govern- 
ment exhibited curious specimens of shot 
and shells, small arms of all kinds, ships' 
guns and howitzers, Gatling guns, and 



other terrible instruments of warfare ; 
marine engines and boilers, showing the 
improvement made in marine engineering; 
immense cables, with mammoth iron links; 
likewise, beautifully finished models of 
every class of ship on the nav.al list, in- 
cluding lines of the famous craft on which 
Lawrence, Decatur, and McDonough 
fought and conquered, and the original 
appearance of " Old Ironsides '" was finely 
reproduced. The patent office poured 
forth its treasures and curiosities — de- 
vices that have revolutionized labor the 
world over. More than one case was filled 
with relics of the great Washington — the 
clothes worn by him on memorable occa- 
sions, his swords, camp furniture, tents, 
etc. A complete set of maps showed the 
different areas of the United States where 
farm improvements have been made, where 
woods are most abundant, — every tree, 
shrub, flower, root, cereal and fiber, in 
their respective sections, — the fungi that 
destroy the different plants, — and so on. 

Louisiana's products included a tree 
loaded with the somber, hanging moss, 
that renders some of Ikt landscapes so 
gloomy, but which is now being used as a 
substitute for hair in mattresses and up- 
holstery. California sent gold quartz of 
surpassing richness, and wonderful grain 
and cacti as well. Of the Indian races, 
the leading features were aptly epitom- 
ized, and their habitations, manners, and 
customs, represented b}- delegations from 
different tribes. Of universal interest, of 
course, was the original draft of the Dec- 
laration of Independence — to be looked at, 
not touched. Whitefield's portable pulpit, 
which he usuall3' took with him, and from 
which, he once said, the gospel had been 
preached to more than ten millions of peo- 
ple, was another interesting relic; also, 
General Stark's spurs, John Alden's desk. 
Governor Endicott's folding-chair, the sil- 
ver pitcher used by Lafayette in Boston, 
etc. 

The inventions and handiwork of boys 
included, among other things, a heavy ten- 
wheel draft locomotive, cylinder eighteen 
by twenty-two inches, and all of consum- 



GREAT AND JVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 



959 



mate finish. The kindergarten plan of 
teaching was most fully illustrated in all 
its appliances and methods. 

Massachusetts sent, among its rich and 
v:iried contributions, an organ of gigantic 
proportions, having fifty-nine stops and 
four banks of keys, its longest pipe being 
thirty-two feet and the shortest less than 
one inch; also, industrial designs, of strik- 
ing character, from the Massachusetts in- 
stitute of technology. Noticeable as a 
most sumptuous article of taste, was a 
hundred thousand dollar necklace from 



pie on the globe, — with her thousands of 
specimens of corn, cotton, sugar, her woods, 
fruits, honey, perfumery, scimetars ; Aus- 
tralia, her mineral and agricultural prod- 
ucts, tin, iron, wool, wood; Canada, her 
row-boats, furs, iron-work ; Scotland, her 
cut stones and precious gems, in every 
form of exquisite jewelry ; Switzerland, 
her watches of world-famed beauty ; Nor- 
way, and Sweden, their glass-work, wood 
carvings, porcelains, irons and steels ; Hol- 
land, her magnificent models of sea-coast 
works, bridges, dams, aqueducts; Belgium, 




New York city, also the Brj'ant vase ; 
and, from Providence, the ' century vase,' 
of solid silver, being five feet four inches 
in length and four feet two inches high, 
and weighing two thousand ounces. Each 
State and section, in a word, presented its 
special exhibits, in superbest examples and 
endless profusion, tiring the ej'e and baf- 
fling description. 

Glancing a moment at the countless 
riches in every department of nature, art, 
and mechanism, which flowed from foreign 
nations of every zone, mention may first 
be made of Egypt — the most ancient peo- 



her curiously carved balustrades, cornice 
ornaments, statues ; China, her jars, vases, 
and other specimens of ceramic art; Japan, 
her multitudinous porcelains and bronzes ; 
Cuba, her palms, agaves, cact, and other 
tropical plants ; Italy, her fine art contri- 
butions, including rare and priceless gems 
from the Vatican, sent by Pius IX. ; 
France, with its selectest elaborations in 
almost every department of knowledge 
and handicraft, not least among which 
being its Gobelin tapestries and Sevres 
fabrics ; Great Britain, her infinitude of 
woolen, cotton and silk goods, carpetings, 



960 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



hardware, and paintings from illustrious 
artists ; — and so followed on, in magnifi- 
cent array, Austria, Germany, Russia, 
Spain, Portugal, Denmark, Turkey, Brazil, 
and others of the great family of nations, 
with the choicest products of their mines 
and looms, foundries and workshops, lapi- 
daries and ateliers. 

But why commence, even, the impossi- 
ble task of describing fifty teeming acres 
of templed wonders from every clime — 
the marvels and masterpieces of nature, 
science, and art, in bewildering variety 
and richness. No traversing, in fact, at 
all equal to the occasion, can here be es- 
saj'ed. It will require, indeed, all the 
copious volumes intended to be issued 
under official auspices, adequately to elab- 
orate and portray the genius and results 
presented in a display so unexampled in 
the history of man. 

Nor would it be scarcely less impos- 
sible, in the scope of a single chapter, to 
sufficiently characterize the enthusiasm, 
wide-spread as the continent, which usher- 
ed in and prolonged the observance of the 
Anniversary Day in especial, — Julv 
FouKTH, — which numbered the first hun- 
dred j-ears of the greatest republic upon 
which the sun ever shone. To say that 
the festal ingenuity of nearly forty great 
States and forty millions of people, with 
their tens of thousands of cities, towns, 
and villages, fairly spent itself, in efforts 
to suitably commemorate the Wonderful 
Anniversary, is only faintly expressing the 
fact. It was a festival of oratory, music, 
poetr3', parade, bells, illuminations, regat- 
tas, cannon, banners, hallelujahs and huz- 
zas. 

At Philadelphia, the central point of 
historic interest and centennial ovation, 
the resources of a whole nation's pomp 
and glor}- seemed drawn upon, on a scale 
eclipsing, in extent and variety, any cele- 
brative occasion in the annals of the re- 
public. Congress, sitting in its halls in 
the capitol at Washington, had a few days 
previously passed a resolution of adjourn- 
ment to meet, on this wonderful day, in 
Independence Hall, where, one hundred 



years before, occurred the birth of the 
nation, and where, subsequently, was 
framed that immortal instrument which 
gave to the republic a constitutional gov- 
ernment, the wisest and most admirable 
ever conceived by uninspired men. 

That the celebration in this city was, 
in every respect worthy of an occasion so 
august and of a spot so historically sacred 
and national, was universally admitted. 
A parade of troops, societies aud officials 
took place in the morning, ending at In- 
dependence Hall. The Centennial legion 
of troops from North and South was 
commanded by General Heath, formerly 
of the confederate arnij', and the proces- 
sion in various other ways reflected the 
strength of the renewed feeling of national 
unity and fraternity. In Independence 
S(juare, the vice-president of the United 
States, Hon. Thomas W. Ferry, presided ; 
prayer was offered by Bishop Stevens ; 
Dr. 0. W. Holmes's 'Welcome to the 
Nations ' was sung ; Bayard Taylor read 
his national ode; Hon. William M. Ev- 
art.s pronounced the oration ; the Declara- 
tion of Independence was read by Richard 
Henry Lee of Virginia, from the original 
document, which President Grant had in- 
trusted for the purpose to the mayor of 
Philadeli)hia. The faded and crumbled 
manuscript, held together by a simple 
frame, was then shown to the assembled 
multitude facing the platform, cheer fol- 
lowing cheer, at this rare spectacle. 
There was also sung the " Greeting from 
Brazil," a hymn composed for the occasion 
by A. Carlos Gomez, of Brazil, by the 
request of the Emperor, Dom Pedro. 
jVftcr the ode, the orchestra performed a 
grand triumphal march, with chorus, '' Our 
National Banner," the words being by 
De.xter Smith, of Massachusetts, and the 
music by Sir Julius Benedict, of England. 
On the orator retiring from the speaker's 
stand, the Hallelujah chorus from the 
" Messiah " was sung, and then the whole 
of the vast throng united in singing the 
Old Hundredth Psalm. The magnificent 
spectacle presented by the procession was, 
however, the scene witnessed and enjoyed 



GREAT AJ^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



961 







i-*^'' ^'"Ifeii 







01 



962 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



with most general interest and admiration. 
It was miles in length, and in its ranks 
every one of the thirteen original States 
had a picked corps, and it was very evi- 
dent, from the hearty manner in which 
General Heath, — in the absence of Gen- 
eral Burnside, — formerly foinmanders, re- 
spectively, on the field of battle, of ' the 
boys in blue ' and ' the boys in gray,' but 
now knowing but one color and one tlag — 
was received, that the fraternization of 
the North and the South was genuine and 
complete, on this great natal anniversary. 
The procession was under the lead of 
General and Governor Hartranft, and the 
splendid pageant was reviewed by General 
Sherman, Lieutenant-Geueral Sheridan, 
and General Hooker, in whose company, 
on the guests' platform, were to be seen 
hundreds of oflicial dignitaries, of civil and 
military fame. 

In Boston, as the representative metrop- 
olis 'of New England, and as the spot 
where, almost above all others, our nation's 
liberties had their origin and chief support, 
the preparations for the anniversary had 
been made on a splendid scale, and these 
were carried out with perfect success to 
the end, witnessed and enjoyed by the 
patriotic multitudes who thronged the 
beautifully decorated city from the earli- 
est hour. There were parades, concerts, 
regattas, balloon ascensions, fire-works, 
and commemorative services at the great 
Music Hall, under the auspices of the 
municipal government, the orator being 
the Hon. Robert C. AVinthrop, a direct 
descendant of Governor Winthrop, of co- 
lonial times, and the Declaration of Inde- 
jieudence being read by Mr. Brooks Ad- 
ams, a great-grandson of John Adams, the 
revolutionary patriot and leader. On the 
orator's platform was an article of extraor- 
dinary interest to the thousands of ej'es 
that were intently concentrated upon it, 
when, as Mr. Winthrop, in the early part 
of his oration, said : " And lierc, bj' the 
favor of a highly valued friend and fellow- 
citizen, to whom it was given by Jefferson 
himself a few months oidy before his death, 
I am privileged to hold in my hands, aud 



to lift up to the eager gaze of you all, a 
most compact and convenient little ma- 
hoganj' case, which bears tliis autograpli 
inscription on its face, dated Monticello, 
November 18, 1825,— 

' Thomas Jefferson gives this writing 
desk to Joseph Coolidge, Jr., as a memo- 
rial of his affection. It was made from a 
drawing of his own, by Ben Randall, cab- 
inet-maker of Philadelphia, with whom he 
first lodged on his arrival in that city in 
May, 1776, and is the identical one on 
which he wrote the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. Politics, as well as Religion, 
has its superstitions. These, gaining 
strength with time, maj-, one day, give 
imaginary value to this relic, for its asso- 
ciation with the birth of the Great Charter 
of our Independence.' 

Superstitions ! Imaginary value ! Not 
for an instant (continued Mr. Winthrop,} 
can we admit such ideas. The modesty of 
the writer has betrayed even the masterlj^ 
pen. There is no imaginar3' value to this 
relic, and no superstition is required to 
render it as precious and priceless a piece 
of wood as the secular cabinets of the 
world have ever possessed, or ever claimed 
to possess. No cabinet-maker on eartli 
will have a more enduring name tlian this 
inscription has secured to ' Ben Randall of 
Philadelphia.' No pen will have a wider 
or more lasting fame than his who wrote 
the inscription." The ajiplause elicited 
by these remarks showed that the hearts 
of the great audience were still filled with 
the spirit of tlie fathers and founders of 
the republic, and that patriotic reverence 
for their names and deeds liad suffered no 
decay. 

Conspicuously attractive, during the 
whole day, to the enthusiastic throngs, 
were the venerable buildings, still remain- 
ing, so memorably associated with tlii']iart 
taken by Boston during the revolutionary 
struggle. In the center of the portico at 
the east end of the Old State House, 
appeared jjrominentlj' a fine copy of Paul 
Revere's painting of the King-Street Mas- 
sacre, eighteen by ten feet, showing on 
one side the British soldiers firing upon 



GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



963 



the population, several of whom lie on the 
ground, weltejing in their blood. Over 
the picture was a banner inscribed with 
the words, " Massacre of the People by 
the British Troops," and, on a wreath 
above, the date — 1776. On each side of 
the painting stood figures of the Goddess 
of Liberty holding the American flag in 




ENTRANCE OF THE KEW YORK SEVENTH REGIMENT. 

one hand and an olive branch in the other. 
On each end of the portico were placed 
faces and flags of different nations, while 
above all, on the coping of a window, was 
perched an eagle, holding in its beak fes- 
toons of the red, white and blue. Faneuil 
Hall, the Old Cradle of Liberty, was 
another of these patriotic shrines. On its 
western end was placed a medallion, ten ' 
feet in diameter, in the center of which I 



was a portrait of Lafayette, surrounded by 
the following sentiment, which was offered 
by the illustrious Frenchman at a banquet 
given to him by the authorities, in Au- 
gust, 1824, viz. : ' The city of Boston — 
the Cradle of Liberty ; may Faneuil Hall 
ever stand a monument to teach the 
world that resistance to oppression is a 
duty, and will, under true republican 
institutions, become a blessing.' The 
medallion was encompassed by a glory 
of French and American flags, and above 
stood the Goddess of Liberty holding fes- 
toons of bunting. Christ Church, King's 
Chapel, and especially the Old South 
Church — within the walls of which last 
named building, Warren, and Adams, and 
Otis, and the sons of liberty, gathered 
and spoke — were likewise places of most 
attractive interest. Local celebrations 
were held, also, in the various capitals of 
the States, as well as in hundreds and 
thousands of other cities, towns and vill- 
ages, calling forth every manner and mode 
of joyous festivity, on the part of old and 
young ; and statesmen, judges, generals, 
the " honorable of the land," furnished 
abundant oratory, and a vast amount of 
local history of permanent value. The 
honor of firing the first centennial salute 
m the United States — that at the first 
instant of day-break — is claimed, in point 
of locality and time, for Eastport, Me. 

In New York, as in Philadelphia, the 
)ubilistic demonstrations commenced on a 
truly metropolitan scale, on the evening 
of the third. Indeed, the most .vivid de- 
scription would convey only a faint idea of 
the picturesque and imposing appearance 
presented in the principal squares and 
avenues, from nine o'clock until far into 
the night. In Union Square, the whole 
scene was one of unparalleled beauty and 
grandeur, and nothing could be more 
impressive than when the advanced guard 
of the monster procession marched into 
the square by way of the plaza. It was 
almost an hour after the start of the pro- 
cession before the head entered the grounds 
and took position. The members of the 
Sangerfer Bund were in full force of about 



-.r-'. 



964 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



one thousand, on the platform, while the 
many bands that took part in the pro- 
cession assembled between tlie grand stand 
and the singers' stand. As soon as the 
immense concourse of people became set- 
tled, the singing societies performed, with 
grand effect, various martial and patriotic 
airs. Here, as in other parts of the cit}', 
the display of fire-works was magnificent ; 
in fact, the lower portion of the citj' was, 
in this respect, a scene of bewildering 
splendor, Broadway being, as it were, a 
sea of fire from Dey street to Union square 
plaza. An electric apparatus at one of the 
lofty telegraph buildings poured a flood of 
light over the great thoroughfare ; among 
the buildings particularly brilliant with 
illuminations were the city hall, of im- 
mense and multitudinous windows, the 
bank, insurance, and newsjiaper buildings, 
the hotels, places of business, and a count 
less number of private residences, and never 
before in the history of the city was there 
such universal and gorgeous decoration. 
Castle William fired a salute of one hun- 
dred guns from its prodigious fifteen-inch 
cannon, the church bells chimed and rang, 
the locomotive and steam-boat whistles 
screamed ; while all over the city, as well 
as Brooklyn, Jersey City, and neighbor- 
ing localities, could be seen thousands of 
rockets, blue lights, bombs, and other 
pyrotechnics. Kev. Dr. Storrs was the 
orator of the day. 

Great parades, illuminations, and decor- 



ations, were the chief features in all the 
large western cities of the republic. The 
St. Louis Germans exhibited, in common 
with their intelligent and thrifty country- 
men throughout all the Union, the utmost 
patriotic enthusiasm, the special demon- 
stration consisting of a vast torch-light 
procession, and an address by tlic Hon. 
Carl Schurz. San Francisco began Mon- 
day and ran through Wednesday with its 
varied and magnificent festivities, which 
included a military review, a sham battle, 
with mock bombardment from the forts 
and ships in tlie harbor and bay, torch- 
light display, orations, music, etc. In 
Washington, on account of the official par- 
ticipation in the exercises at Phihuli'lphia, 
the celebration was mainly under the 
auspices of the Oldest Inhabitants' Asso- 
ciation, at the opera-house, where the 
Declaration of Independence — adopted 
when what is now the federal capital was 
a wilderness — was read, and an oration 
pronounced by Hon. L. A. Gobright ; and 
everywhere the national ensigns, floating 
from staff and tower, told of the wondrous 
anniversary. 

In the southern cities, Richmond led off 
at midnight preceding, by the firing of 
guns at five different points in and about 
the city, the festivities continuing far into 
the night succeeding ; and, in Norfolk and 
Portsmouth, no Fourth of July had, for 
many years, been so generally observed. 
Fire-crackers and cannon were brought 




STATE AVEXUE. 



GEE AT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



965 



into requisition, various societies paraded 
the streets, and many houses were finely 
decorated with flags; salutes were fired at 
sunrise, noon, and sunset, by the naval 
receiving ship and the monitors, all the 
government and commercial vessels were 
decked with bunting, and thousands of 
people went down to Fortress Monroe to 
witness the fire-works there displayed. 
Montgomery, Ala., bid farewell to the Old 
and saluted the New century of indepen- 
dence, in handsome st^'le, all business 
being suspended, the streets and houses 
streaming with the red, white, and blue ; 
a salute of thirteen guns was fired at break 
of day, and of thirty-seven at noon ; a pro- 
cession of military and fire companies and 
citizens marched through the streets, and 



commemorated by a grand banquet at the 
Westminster Palace Hotel, under the 
auspices of the American legation, a large 
and distinguished comjaany of citizens of 
the United States and their English 
friends being present. It was a magnifi- 
cent occasion, worthy of the centennial of 
the greatest Republic in the world. Toasts 
to the health of President Grant and 
Queen Victoria were received with ap- 
plause and music. The sentiment, ' The 
Day we Celebrate,' was responded to by 
Rev. Dr. Thompson ; ' The Mother Coun- 
try,' by Mr. Henry Richard, M. P. ; ' The 
City of London,' by the Lord Mayor ; 
' The Army and Navy,' liy Major-General 
Crawford ; and -The newly-appointed Min- 
ister of the United States,' by Hon Ed- 




WOMAN'S PAVILION. 



Ex-Governor Watts delivered an eloquent 
oration, the reading of the Declaration of 
Independence being by Neil Blue, the 
oldest citizen of the place, and the only 
survivor of those who voted for delegates 
to the territorial convention that adopted 
the constitution under which Alabama was 
admitted as one of the Federal Union. 

Most significant, it may be remarked, 
was the respect paid to the occasion in 
foreign countries ; not only the Americans, 
in all the European cities, joined in cele- 
brations, some of them outwardly public 
and participated in by foreigners, but the 
daily press everywhere discussed the day 
and its historical lessons. In Dublin there 
was a popular gathering, numbering thou- 
sands, and spirited political addresses. In 
the city of London, the anniversary was 



wards Pierrepont. Extracts from Bayard 
Tajlor's national ode, delivered by him 
the same day in Philadelphia, were read ; 
and letters in response to invitations were 
also read from Mr. Disraeli, Mr. Gladstone, 
the Duke of Argyle, Earl Granville, Lord 
Houghton, the Earl of Roseberry, the 
Earl of Derbj-, Dean Stanley, John 
Bright, etc. 

In Paris, the American legation was 
superbly decorated with flags and insignia, 
and the American colors were profusely 
displaj'ed in the principal streets. 

In Lisbon, the American ambassador 
held a public reception, and gave a ban- 
quet in the evening ; several of the city 
journals also noticed the day, in leading 
articles complimentary to the American 
people. 



966 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 




>-._^^^^^-*^^^^ 



TUE TUSC.V>- TEST. 



The Americans residing in Frankfort, 
Heidelberg, Offenbach, Wiesbaden, and 
other towns in the vicinitj-, met in the 
Frankfort Palm Garden, and there joy- 
ously celebrated the day with speeches, 
the reading of the immortal Declaration, a 
superb banquet, and closing with a concert 
and magnificent fire-works. In Berlin, 
the day was magnificently celebrated. 
Minister Davis presiding, and projwsing 
' The health of President Grant,' Mr. Fay 
following with a toast to ' The Emperor 
of Germany,' and, among others, ' Ameri- 
can Citizenship,' 'Americans in Europe,' 
and • Tiie Daj' we Celebrate,' — the latter 
being in verse. In the evening there was 
a splendid soiree at the American ambas- 
sador's, followed by tableaux vicants rep- 
resenting revolutionary scenes, such as 
Washington at Valley Forge, Antoinette 
receiving Lafayette, etc. At Stuttgart, 
there were salutes, speeches, reading of 
the Declaration, patriotic hymns and songs, 
and other festivities. 

Among the incidental mattery of endur- 
ing interest, pertaining to the day and 
event, and which are here deserving of rec- 
ord, may be mentioned . the proclamation 
by the chief magistrate of our nation, ir 
which, with becoming deference to and as 
reflecting the religious sense of the people, 
he said : " The centennial anniversary of 
the day on which the people of the United 
States declared their right to a separate 
and equal station among the powers of the 
earth seems to demand an exceptional 
observance. The founders of the govern- 



ment, at its birth, and in its feebleness, 
invoked the blessings and the protection 
of a divine Providence, and the thirteen 
colonies and three millions of people have 
expanded into a nation of strength and 
numbers commanding the position that 
was then asserted, and for which fervent 
prayers were then offered. It seems fit- 
ting that, on the occurrence of the one 
hundredth anniversary of our existence as 
a nation, a grateful acknowledgment be 
made to Almighty God for the protection 
and the bounties which he has vouchsafed 
to our beloved countr}'. I therefore invite 
the good people of the United States, on 
the approaching Fourth daj- of July, in ad- 
dition to the usual observances with which 
they are accustomed to greet the return 
of the day, further, in such manner, and 
at such time as in their resjjective locali- 
ties and religious associations may be 
most convenient, to mark its recurrence 
by some ])ulilic religious and devout 
thanksgiving to Almighty God, for tlie 
blessings which have been bestowed upon 
us as a nation, during the centenary of 
our existence, and humbly to invoke a 
continuance of His favor and of His pro- 
tection." In response to this, many 
places of public worship were opened for 
morning religious devotion. 

Another most notable incident was an 
autograph letter from the Emperor Wil- 
liam, of Germany, to the President, con- 
veying his imperial congratulations to the 
latter and to the American people. This 
remarkable letter was officially presented 



GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 



96 



J/ 



to President Grant, on the morning of 
July 4th, by the German ambassador in 
person, and was as follows : — 

William, by the grace of God, Emperor 
of Germany, King of Prussia, etc. 

To THE President of the United 
States : — Great and Good Friend, — It 
has been vouchsafed to you to celebrate 
the Centennial festival of the day ujjon 
which the great republic over which j'ou 
preside entered the rank of independent 
nations. The purposes of its founders 
have, by a wise application of the teach- 
ings of the history of the foundation of na- 
tions, and with insight into the distant fu- 
ture, been realized by a development with- 
out a parallel. To congratulate you and 
the American people upon the occasion 
affords me so much the greater pleasure, 
because, since the treaty of friendship 
which my ancestor of glorious memorj-, 
King Frederick II., who now rests with 
God, concluded with the United States, un- 
disturbed friendship has continually exist- 
ed between Germany and America, and has 
been developed and strengthened by the 
ever-increasing importance of their mutual 
relations, and by an intercourse, becoming 
more and more fruitful, in every domain 
of commerce and science. That the wel- 
fare of the United States, and the friend- 
ship of the two countries, may continue to 
increase, is my sincere desire and confi- 
dent hope. 

Accept the renewed assurance of my 
unqualified esteem. William. 

Countersifjned, Von Blsmarck. 
Berlin, June 9, 1876. 

On account of the great interest in this 
friendlj^ document from "Fatherland," 
which was naturally excited among the 
German population of our countrj', (now 
numbering some millions of our most pat- 
riotic people,) we likewise reproduce the 
letter in its native language, together with 
an authorized fac-simile of the Emperor's 
autograph, also a fine portrait of the vener- 
able monarch, and an engraving of the 
new national flag,— none of which features 



are to be found in any other volume pub- 
lished in the United States. 

A letter of similar purport, though not 
received in season to be delivered to the 
president on the Fourth, was also sent by 
the Czar of Russia, also by King Victor 
Emanuel, of Italy, and from other na- 
tions. 

Noteworth}', perhaps, above all the other 
inspiring incidents of the day, and which 
wrought up the people's patriotic sensibil- 
ities to the most fervid pitch, was the 
scene already briefly alluded to on a pre- 
ceding page, when Mayor Stokley pre- 
sented to Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia, 
the original Declaration of Independence, 
— Mr. Lee's grandfather having, one hun- 
dred years ago, offered the resolution to 
the Continental Congress, " that these 
United Colonies are, and of right ought to 
be, free and independent States." On the 
age-dimmed but immortal parchment being 
exhibited, in its massive frame, to the 
sight of the people, men swung their hats, 
and cheered with almost frantic enthus- 
iasm ; women waved their handkerchiefs, 
and in some instances gave audible utter- 
ances to their transport of delight ; chil- 
dren innumerable were held ujs in the 
struggling mass of humanity to view the 
venerated national relic ; and, amidst the 
wildest expressions of joy on every side, 
that ascended to and seemed to rend the 
very heavens, the sacred document was 
read. The chord of unity and sympathy, 
full, free, and entire, ran through the vast 
assemblage, as though no territorial sec- 
tionalism had ever marred the nation's 
harmony — or, if it had, that all by-gones 
were now hajspily buried and obliviated. 
And, as between North and South, noth- 
ing could have given more gracious assur- 
ance of present good will and future 
promise of amity and accordant purpose, 
than the message dispatched by the mayor 
of the former capital of the Southern Con- 
federacy, as follows : " The people of 
Montgomery', Alabama, the birthplace of 
the Confederate government, through its 
City Council, extend a cordial and fraternal 
greeting to ull the people of the United 



\ 



968 



OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 



Stdtes, witli an earnest prayer for the jier- 
petuation of concord and brotherly feelings 
throughout the land." And in this spirit 
the representatives of all sections met 
together in the city where the Republic 
had its birth, and in this spirit, too, the 
memorable day was ushered in and cel- 



ebrated wherever floated the ensigns 
of American nationality ; fraternization, 
North, South, East, and West, was uni- 
versal ; all hearts united in the ascription 
of " Glory to God in the highest," for the 
Past ; and deeji answered unto deep, in the 
gladsome acclaim of 



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INDEX. 



y 



A. 

A toast preceding a tragedy, 442. 

Abortive attempts made by Wallier to conquer Nica- 
ragua, 751. 

Abortive attempts to lay the ocean cable, 900. 

Absence of any gale during tbe awful fire in Boston, 931. 

Access to Secretary Seward's sick chamber gained by 
the assassin Payne, 897. 

Acceptance by Lafayette of President Monroe's invita- 
tion , 275. 

— of the invitation to America by Kossuth, 580. 
Acclamations, tempest of, on Jenny Lind's appearance 

before an audience, 546. 

Accomplices of Booth in his crime of assassination, 897. 

Accosting Mr. Sumner, previous to the assault, G17. 

Accounting for the want of liquid in one of the petro- 
leum oil wells, 705. 

"Achilles of Chess," Paul Morphy pronounced to be 
the, 669. 

Acknowledgment of his biblical errors by Rev. Wm. 
Miller, 437. 

the independence of the United States by foreign 

nations, 71. 

Acquirements in profanity, Japanese, 738. 

Acquittal of Aaron Burr, on technical grounds, 210. 

Mrs. Cunningham, 631. 

Kobinson, of the murder of Helen Jewett, 633. 

Acres of art and mechanism from every land, 607. 

Across the Atlantic for the first time by steam, 742. 

Action between the frigates Constitution and Guerriere, 
225. 

— taken by congress in the Sumner-Brooks case, 623. 
Active interference by America for Hungary solicited 

by Kossuth, 590. 
Adams, John, a sketch of his career, 293. 
advocates Washington as commander-in-chief, 

112. 

appointment of as first minister plenipotentiarj- 

to England, 119; and interview with King George, 121. 

his eloquent advocacy uf American independ- 
ence, 65. 

lamented death on the 50th anniversarj' of 

American independence. 291. 

- John Quincy, his struggle for the right of petition 

362. 

— Samuel, murder of, in New York, by John C. Colt, 
531. 

Adapted to destroy, fight, or run, the Alabama, 852. 
Adieu to the Army by General Washington, 1783, 

112-118. 
{For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page of this 
Ei-ent.) 



Adherents of General Walker in the south and Cali- 
fornia, 751. 

Adjournment of congress to meet in Philadelphia, 960. 

Adjusting the great Stockton gun for action, 446. 

Admiral Cockbum commands the British naval arma- 
ment at Washington City, 242. 

— FARRAGUT*S ACHIEVE3IENT3 AT NeW ORLEANS IN 

1862, AND IN Mobile Bay in 1864, and Admiral 
Porter's Crowning Victory in 1865 at Fort Fish- 
er, 859-807. 

{For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page of this 
Event.) 
"— for admiral, flagship for flagship— I'll fight him!" 
863. 

Admiration, by Emperor Dom Pedro, of the Moody and 
Sankey meetings. 665. 

Adoption of the Federal Constitution by the different 
States, 138. 

Advance of Meade's army to meet Lee*s hosts, 827. 

Adventurers warned by the Arab traditions, 498. 

Advice to his officers by Perry, 236. 

Advocating the Union cause in England, Mr. Beecher, 

839. 
. ^gis of the republic again everywhere dominant, 885. 

Affluence of the United States in art, science and litera- 
ture, 9. 

Affecting appeal of Lady Franklin, 533. 

After-scenes of horror at Antietam, 803. 

Again under the United States flag, New Orleans, 862. 

Agitation of tbe British ministers on the surrender of 

Comwallis, 108. 
magnetic needle produced by the comet, 426. 

Agony and death to multitudes in a moment of time, 
724. 

Agricultural hall at the centennial, 957. 

— prosperity the basis of the grange system, 939. 
Alabama and Kearsarge, battle between the, b51. 
Alarm produced by the total solar eclipse, 203. ^^^ — 

wonderful dark day, 89. 

Alaska, scientific expedition sent to, 202. 

Albany, N. Y., immense conflagration at, 353. 

Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, arrival of, in America, 

7.57. 
Alexander, czar of Russia, his centennial salutations. 

967. 
Algerine corsairs driven from the ocean, 188. 
All countries in sympathy with the nation's centennial. 

952. 

— hands mustered on the quarter-deck of the Somers, 
419. 

" All Hail to the Hereafter ! " 968. 

"All ready!" response from Perry's men on tbe eve of 
battle, 236. 



972 



INDEX. 



Alleged final scene between Parkman and Webster, by 
the latter, B'.'ll. 

_ foundation of Mr. Tilton's charges, 94G. 
Alliance between America and France, 8U. 
Allowing herself to be distanced at tirst m the pn« 

Alon™ at'hisaesk .hen a.t-acKed, Senator Sun.ner, 020. 

post ot duty firing the signal gun, 611. 

/ long the Jordan-wild and impressive scenery. 4%. 

Alternatives presented to Mr. Calhoun, 328. 

"ifn ready a[ any Ume."-Joh« Browi^'s words on the 

A,na1ng fortitude of John Brown. 722 -.-admiration of 

a!::::!" U^'^ons.itution prohibiting slavery In 

thf republic, 81.'). 
"Aniens " in the theater pit, 658. 

AMKH.CA AND K.NGt.AND MATCHED AOAISST EACH 
OTHER IN SQUADRON COMBAT. •.>:U-.41. 

IFor topical and analytical ,letaih,scej,rstpage<!fms 

Event.) 
American and French forces unite at Torktown. lOG. 
^" Cousin," play of. at President Lincoln's asassma- 

tion, 889. , , ,-, 

- Ingenuity, firet gieat triumph of, 1^. 

_ verms the British flag, 2r>l. 
Among the corpses of the little ones, S72. 

savages, eNplorers' experience, 387. 

Amount of gold taken in ten yea« from the California 

mines, T01. „. , , ^^a 

Amours of the betrayer of JIi-s. Sickles G90. 
"An Arctic Boat Journey," Dr. Hayes's wonderful ^ol 

Anatii^^l science identifying Parkman's scattered re- 

Arhori;,rof t^e American expedition under Mount 

Carmel, 495. 
Ancient and modern wonders compared. .41. 
— knowledge of American rock oil, C99. 
Anderson, Gen. lU>bert. again raises the old flag of Sum- 

-1"m ^Robert, his defense of Fort Sumter. 7GC. 
"_ .lohn " Major Andre's assumed name, 98. 
Andersei"; opinion of Morpby's chess playing power. 

AuL, Major, capture as a spy and execution of. 98. .03. 
_ - his intrigue with Benedict Arnold, 98. 
Anecdotes relating to locating the national ^P-U^U^^ 
Annapolis, Washington resigns his commission to the 

congress at, 117. . . j j o-, 

Annihilation of the Yankee fleet ■"<■■;<»»-»•-■'• ^, 
Anniversary, liflielb, of Aincr.can 1"''«''™^;' 7,!.^ I„, 
_ of the Birth of the Republic, celebrated >" •^"^•'''V 
Announcement of Macready's appearance on the N . 

Announclilg Dr. Burdell's murder to Mrs. Cunningham, 



_!"'the news ot Connvallis's surrender. 110. 
_ to Gen. Walker his doom. 75,i. 
Anomalies, atmospheric, attending the great meteoric 

Ant,ymou?ietter disclosing Mr. Key's criminality 690 
Zwer to a request on the batlle-fleld, General Mc- 

Clellan's, 803. , . , or 

Answering a question with a l'^^^'^^^^' f • 

.\„larctic continent discovered by W.Ikes, .189. 

aI 'thems ot thanksgiving to God forthe return of peace 

Anti'-Macready mob at the opera-house N. Y., 510. 
_ -Rent Insurrection in New York 414. 
Anticipations of the grci.t centennial anniversary . SM- 
Aniietam, Md.. battle of, 798. 
.•Anvil " chorus at the Boston peace jubilee. 919. 



•■Apostle of Temperance," the, 398. 
Apostles, Mormon, sent forth to all nations. 312. 
Apostrophe to the Union. Webster's. 30.i. 
irpearince and sentence of P. S. Brooks in court, 6^. 

_ of General Leo on meeting General Grant. 88„ 

Gen. U. S. Grant. 882. 

_ _ THE MARINE MONSTEB KNOWN AS THE SEA- 
SFUI'ENT. ALONG THE ATLANTIC COAST. 5-5-58.f. 

(For topical and analytical details, >ee lir>l pageo/tius 

"Apples of Sodom." description of the. by «PJ°«"' ^^«- 
Application by Lafayette to enter Uie American army, 

Appointment of John Adams as Fir^t Minister Plenipo- ^ 
tentiary from the New Uepublic to England. 119-1^4. 
1- Jtayette as major-general in his 20th year, 274. 
Appomattox, memorable operations at, 8.9 
Appreciative opinion of the Japanese by Pres. Bu 

chanan. 737. 
Approach of the " Dark Day," May 19, 1,80, 90. 
April fourteenth, 1885, tragical bereavement of the na 

A^Tn^sff^r chess displayed by Morpliy when a boy 6« 
Arabian legends of sudden wealU. realized in the oil 

Ar:S'r performances at the national peace jubilee. 

A^i'of honor erected in gratitude to U^UyeUe'^. 
Architectural perfection of the Great Kastern, .46. 

— nride Of the nation, 300. „ , . .„„ ,i,« 

Archives of the nation removed to Washington, the 
federal capital. 171. 

Arctic seas, expeditions to the, 533. 

Ardent spiriU, discussion of the effects of, 393 

Arguments against Second Advenlism by Mr. Millers 

ArTeZ"";a*!; to the Rhode Island sUite charter, 4,0. 

ers at the, .10. 
Arnold, Benedict, bravery of in battle, 75. 

bis escape. 101. 

personal characteristics. 97. 

Around the bedside of the dying president. 892. 
Arraignment ot Burr for high tre.-ison LlG. 

_ _ Mrs. Cunningham tor murder. (.10. 

ir:i::;r^:::;;:.:-atDr^..rd^-^.-^ 

ARRIVAL AN.. EXH.n.T.ON-^ IN ^^V^;"^' 

^ ArciiM 

_ of Jefferson Davis at Ball Hun. T87. 

ii'^;::;:;;;^r;;;'cS:bk:;:;.ascommander.in. 

A^o:!'m";der. and robbery, rampa.it In California's 
cariier history, .ISO. Webster, .100. 

Artlflcial light, wonderful revolution in, ..98. 

xziirr:si: -;^-' -—'"-'"• 

AsTaand America unl.ed by the Pacific railroad, 9.4. 
Asiatic cholera in the U. S., eras of 516. 
iking for ---f«----,r;«ir:wb"n American 
Aspect of King George in P^^"""*" ^ 

'""•^;;r Zi:r:"rd,i;..ng ground. ,08, 

and of bis antagonist. Judge Terry, .08. 



INDEX. 



973 



^ ASSASSIKATIOX OF PRESIDENT LiNCOLX, AT FoRD'S 

Theater, Washington, by J. W. Booth, 887-898. 
{For topical and analytical dttails, seejirst page of this 

Event.) 
Assassination of President Jackson attempted, 337. 
Assault on the Hon. Charles Sctmner, by Hon. 

Preston S. Brooks, 616-6l'5. 
{For topical and analytical details^ see first page qf this 

Ecent.) 
Assay of the earliest found California gold, 501. 
Assuming command at Vioksburg, Gen. Grant, 818. 
Assumption bill, passage of thy, KiO. 
Astonishing Feats OF Horse-Taming PERFORiiED 

BY John S. Rarey, 772-779. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Astonishment in Europe at the capture of the Guerriere, 

233. 

— produced at the south by Whitney's cotton-gin in- 
vention. 15i;. 

Astor Place Opera-House Riots, New York. 508- 

614. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
At the extreme solitary north, 536. 

" post of duty," John Morrissey, 684. 

Atlanta, Ga., Sherman at, 869. 
Atlantic ocean telegraph cable, laying of the, 903. 
Atmospheric currents during the '• Dark Day," 92. 
Attachment of the confederate army to Gen. Lee, 883. 
Attacking the enemy in position, Gen. McClellan*s 

array, 799. 
Attempted Assassination of President Jackson, 

at the U. 8. Capitol, 337-344. 
(^For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Attempts, early, to cleanse green cotton-seed, 154. 
Attendance of Pres. Grant at the Boston peace jubilee, 

919. 

Moody and Sankey meetings, 664. 

Atzerodt, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 898. 
Audience of seven thousand people in Manchester, Eng., 

Mr. Beecher's, 837. 
Audiences of tens of thousands at the Boston musical 

festival, 921. 
Aurora borealis, magnificent, encompassing the whole 

firmament, 376. 
Austria, burning of the steamship, 673. 
Authority for freeing the slave.-*, John Brown's, 716. 
Autographic letter from the German emperor to Pres. 

Grant, 967. 
Avenues and streets of the national capital, planned by 

Gen. Washington, 171. 
AvoNDALE Colliery Disaster, 730. 
Awful Explosion of Commodore Stockton's 

Great Gun, on Board the U. S, Steamship 

Princeton, 439-446. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

— sublimity of the great meteoric shower, .329. 

— Visitation of the " Angel of Death." 515-522. 
[For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 



B. 

Backing his huge ram for action. Com. Buchanan, 796. 
Backsliders, temperance, 394. 

BatHing generals and armies, Sherman's success in, 871. 
— of Burr's plans at New Orleans, 208. 
Bagging Johnston's whole army, 875. 
Bailey, Commodore, his naval achievements, 860. 



Bainbridge, Commodore, his stern dealings with the 
Moors, 185. 

Baldwin, the historian, graphic delineation by, 286. 

Ball-room scenes during the Prince of Wales' tour, 762. 

" Banner of the Cross " raised on shipboard, 423. 
'*— town." the, for furnishing men in the revolution- 
ary war, 276. 

Barbarous drama enacted by the British army in Wash- 
ington, 248. 

— encounter between Senator Broderick and Judge 
Terry, 708. 

Barbary States, Punishment and Degradation of, 182. 

Barclay, Commodore, the veteran commander on Lake 
Erie, 239. 

Barn-burning excitement in New York, 414. 

Barnum, P. T., his engagement of Jenny Lind to come 
to America, 541. 

" Baron Renfrew," title assumed by the Prince of 
Wales, on his American tour, 7.")7. 

Barricading the streets to prevent the epidemic spread- 
ing. 516. 

Bass drum used at the Boston peace jubilee, 922. 

Batbiug in the river Jordan, 497. 

Battle of Antietam. Maryland, 798-806. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Eve7it.) 

Bennington, 72. 

Bull Run, Va., between the Federal Army 

UNDER Gen. McDowell and that of the South- 
ern Confederacy under Beauregard, Johns- 
ton, AND Dayis, 780-789. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 
" the giants.*' 297. 

Bay-charger owned by Prince Albert tamed by Mr. 
Rarey, 776. 

Beak or snout of steel in tbe Merrimac's prow, 790. 

Beauregard, Gen., bis demand of the surrender of Fort 
Sumter, 765. 

Beautiful appearance of the unfortunate Mrs. Sickles, 
690. 

— out-door musical incident in Jenny Lind's career. .547. 
Beauty and high social position of Mrs. Sickles before 

her fall, 690. 

wondrousness of the total solar eclipse, 202, 

— , loveliness— agony, frenzy, deatb, 444. 

— of nature after the Dark Day, 96. 
the site of tbe national capital, 171. 

Before the duel, scene at Clay's house, 283. 

Beginning of the wonderful aurora borealis, 384. 

Behavior of Burr, on the dueling-ground, 192. 

Belching foilli of flames from the Pemberton Mills 
ruins, 724. 

Bell, Commodore, his naval achievements, 860. 

Beneath the oak tree. Gens. Grant and Pemberton sit- 
ting, 821. 

Benignity of Pres. Lincoln, Gen. Lee's tribute to, 893. 

Bennington, battle of, 72. 

Benton's account of the nullifiers' dinner, 321. 

— famous "expunging resolution," 373. 

Berlin, celebration of tbe American centennial at, 966. 
" Best part of tbe music," at the national peace jubilee, 

922. 
" Beware of a Guineaman !" 422. 
" surprise!" Washington's warning to St. Clair, 

149. 
Bible presented to the Prince of Walesby Trinity Church, 

N. Y., 760. 

— used at Washington's inauguration, present owners 
of, 145. 

Biblical plates, the Mormon, history of, 307. 
Biddle, Commodore, his mission to the Japanese govern- 
ment, 593. 



974 



INDEX. 



Biddle'd capture of the British man-of-war Frolic, 231. 
— , Nicliolas, lii8 adiuiiiistration of the U. S. Bank, ;1T4. 
Bill-of-lading unprecedented, 481. 
Billows of inextinguishable tlame covering the city of 

Chicago, U27. 
Birdd, distraction of, during the total solar eclipse, 202. 

— of prey during the terriljle Boston lire, 934. 
BiKTii OF THK New Kepiblic, G5-71. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
Event.) 

, Centennial celebration of the, 051. 

Birthday of Jefferson, anniversary celebration of the, 

321. 
Bishop Onderdonk's solemn trial, 448. 
Bitter insult from Randoli!li to Clay, 283. 
" Black Hawk," war with the Indian chief, 147. 

— lines drawn around the resolution censuring Pres. 
Jackson, 378. 

Blackburn's Ford, Tyler's engagement at, 782. 

Bladensburg dueling-ground, *85. 

Blandishments of the Japanese visitors in ladies* society, 

739. 
Blank cartridges not used at the next fire, 514. 
Blaze of excitement throughout the country caused by 

John Brown's raid, 722. 
Blendin;^ of musical and architectural beauty in the 

great Boston organ, 848. 
Blenker's reply to the order to retreat at Bull Run, 78G. 
Blennerhassett, Burr's companion and accooipliue, 205; 

his sad fate, 21(1. 
Blinded by bis antagonist's blow, Broderick, 711. 
Blindfold games and triumphs in chess by Paul Morphy, 

6G9. 
Bliss during the amputation of limbs. 459. 
Block after block of immense business palaces destroyed 

by the Boston tire. 1*32. 
Blood spilled on the floor of the U. S. senate, 019. 
Blood-stains, pirates wiping out, Mo. 
Bloodiest day that America ever saw, 803. 
Bloodless campaign of conquest by Gen. Sherman, 868. 
Bloodthirstiness of the dueling code, 713. 
Bloody and Revolting Pkize-Fioht between 

John Moriiissev and John C. Heenan, (i81-e88. 
{For topical and aiiali/ticnl details, sec first paye qf this 

Jirt'nf.) 
Bloomer Cut on the Union Pacitic railroad, 90It. 
Blo^%-ing up Boston houses with gunpowder to arrest the 

fire, 932. 

Fort Hill at Vicksburg. 819. 

Blows of the sledge telegraphed to all the great cities, 

on laying the last rail of the Pacific road, 912. 
Blue cockades and palmetto buttons, 323. 
Bluff reply of Farragut when asked to join the South, 

am. 

Blunt demand for the surrender of New Orleans, Far- 

ragut's, 862. 
Boggs, CapUiin, his naval achievements, 860. 

BOMBAKDMENT and REDUCTIO.N OF FORT SUMTER, 

764-771. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
Event.) 

— of Tripoli, 187. 

Bombshell in the camp of the conspirators, 321. 

Bon Homme Richard, description of the ship, 83. 

Bonaparte. Napoleon, his tribute to Washington's great- 
ness, 174. 

Bones of California emigrants whitening the soil, 606. 

Boon conferred by etherization upon the human race, 
457, 

Booth, J. Wilkes, his assassination of Pres. Lincoln, 
887; his flight, 891 ; swift and bloody end, 897. 

" Booty and beauty," British watchword at New Orleans, 
263. 



Border States, consternation In the, produced by Lee*B 

militar}' plans, 826. 
Boring petroleum wells, 699. 
Borne througli the London crowd on his friends* 

shoulders, 840. 
Borrowing a shilling for his dinner, Kllas Howe, jr., 

466. 

— an infant, Mrs. Cunningham's purpose in, 632, 
Boston, terrible fire in the business heart of, 931. 
Bottle of wine, Fulton too poor to celebrate his Inven- 
tion wiUi a, 216. 

Bought a cofliu for his wife but was buried In It himself, 
520. 

Boundless treasures of beauty and utility at the centen- 
nial exposition. 960. 

Bowels of the earth yielding illuminating oil, 698. 

Boyhood fondness for horses, Rarey's, 773. 

— heroism In a scene of awful calamity, 571. 
Bradford, David, leader of the Whiskey Insurrection, 

162. 
Branding pugilism as a felony, 684. 
Brandishing liis dagger at the audience, Booth, 890. 
Brandywino, battle of, 72. 
Brassy hue of the clouds, May 19, 1780, 94. 
Brazil, emperor of, his attendance at the centennial, 

9r)2. 
Breaking and taming horses, Rarey's wonderful success 

in, 774. 

— of a stair-railing in a school-house, awful eflfecls of 
the, 569. 

— Out of the Tehpera>'oe Reformation, 393. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event.) 
Breaking-up of Burr's expedition, 207. 
Breasting a slorm of accusations, 454. 
Bribes offered by Andre for his release, 99. 
Bridal chamber, cholera in the, 520. 
Brief message of Pres. Jackson to the South Carolina 

nullifiers, 328. 
Bright, John, his tribute to Cyrus W. Field's enterprise, 

906. 
Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind, tub 

"Swedish Nightingale, " 541-549. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Ertnt.) 
" Bring out your dead! ' 521, 
Bringing Ex-Presidi-nl Adams to the bar of congress, 366. 

— the new oil, petroleum, into use. 703. 

Britisti admiration of American nautical strategy, 
227. 

— ofl9cers listening to the reading of tbe Declaration 
of Independence, 68. 

— rule broken in America, Oct. 19, 1781, 107. 
Broad blue pennants In English waters, 741. 
Broadway, N. Y., scene in. during the grand Kossuth 

procession, 587. 

Broderick, Senator, faUilly sbot in a duel with Judge 
Terry, 710. 

Broken limbs failing to dampen Rarey's enthusiasm, 
773. 

Brooklyn court-house, in the Tilton-Beccher trial, 945. 

Brooks's attack on Senator Sumner. 616. 

Brown, John, his attack on Harper's Ferry, 716. 

Brute creation, effect of the solar eclipse on the, 198. 

Bryant vase at the centennial, 959. 

Buchanan, Com., plans tlie monster Merrlmac, 790. 

Bnena Vista, Taylor's victory at, 488. 

Buildings and their contents at the centennial exposi- 
tion, 9.V). 

Bull Run. battle of. 780. 

Bunker-Hill, Ijifayetto's visit to, 278. 

Burdell murder case, the, 626. 

Burgoyne's grand preparations to subdue .\merica, 73, 



INDEX. 



975 



BuROOVNE's Surrender of his Army to Gen. 

Gates, 73-80. 
[For topical and analytical details, see first page of tfiis 

Event.) 
Burial among the mountains at North Elba, John 

Brown's, 722. 

— of George Washington, 178. 
the innocents, 574. 

Burial-grounds engulfed by the western earthquake, 

221. 
Burke, Fox, and Pitt, eloquence of, on American affaii-s, 

109. 
Burning of one of the great oil wells, 702. 

THE City of Chicago, III., the Commercial 

Metropolis of the North-west, y24-930. 
(For topical and a?iab/tical details, see ^first page of this 
Event.) 

Steamship Austria, on her way from 

Hamburg to New York, 673-080. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Washington by the British, 242. 

Burr, Aaron, conspiracy and trial of, 204. 

his fatal duel with Hamilton, 189. 

melancholy end of, 210. 

Burritt, Elihu, his apostrophe to Labor, G07. 
Bursting of the great " land bubble," 645. 

Stockton gun, 441. 

Burton's theater, New York, use of, for prayer-meetings. 

Business abandoned and cities deserted during the yel- 
low fever contagion, 521. 
during the total eclipse, 197. 

— action proposed by the grangers, 939. 

— and financial crisis, 044. 

— portion of Boston totally destroyed by a terrible fire, 
930. 

Bustling day at the bank counter, 649. 
Butchering bis victims, Gibbs, the pirate, 317. 
Butchery of Dr. Burdell by his murderer, 630. 
Butler, Senator, bis speech on Kansas affairs, 617. 
Buying and leasing petroleum lands, 701. 
By rail from New York to San Francisco in 83 hours, 
914. 

c. 

Cabinet consultation over the emancipation document, 
808. 

— discussion in England of Comwallis's defeat, 109. 
Calhoun's famous toast, 321. 

California, earthquakes in, 224. 

— gold discoveries at Sutter's Mill, 500. 
— , pioneer expeditions to, 405. 

— vigilance committee, reign of the, 550. 

Call for one hundred thousand more men, Pres. Lincoln's, 

8l*0. 

water, panic in a school-house caused by a, 568, 

Calling the battle-roll of the Republic, 771. 
Calra in the midst of threats and tumults, 363. 
Camp-ground of the Second Adventists, Mr. Whittler's 

visit to the, 438. 
Campaign against Vicksburg, the Gibraltar of 

THE Mississippi, by the Union Forces under 

General Grant, 817-825. 
(^■01* topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Canby, Gen., surrender of confederate army to, 885 
Candles in use during the celebrated " Dark Day," 90. 
Cannonading of Vicksburg, 818. 
Canopy of gorgeous crimson flames encircling the earth, 

381. 
Canvas of our national life unrolled, 10. 



Cape Ann, young of the eea-serpent found at, 677. 

— Antonio, rendezvous of Gibbs's piratical craft, 316. 

— Hatteras fretiuented by the sea-serpent, 678. 
Capital, national, magnificence of, 172. 
Capitol, national, superb character of, 172. 

Washington lays the corner stone of the, 170. 

Capitulation of Gen. Bdrgoyne's Army to Gen. 

Gates, 72-60. 
{For topical and analytical details, sec first page of this 

Event.) 
Captain Herndon sinking with his ship, 637. 

— Luce in the hour of woe, 610. 

— Wilkes at the 158th degree of east longitude, 386. 
Captivity of American citizens in Algiers, 183. 
Capture of Aaron Burr, 208. 

Harper's Ferry by John Brown, 716. 

the assassin Booth and his aceomt.lice, 895. 

British Frigate Guerriere, by the U. 

S. Frigate Constitution, 225-233. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Card signed by Pres. Lincoln a few hours before his 

assassination, 889. 
Cards and dice consigned to the flames, (159. 

— of invitation for the Princeton excursion, 430. 
Career, Capture, and Execution of Gibbs, the 

Most Noted Pirate of the Century, 314-319. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

— and fate of Helen Jewett, the brilliant and depraved 
courtesan, 034. 

— of Aaron Burr, 190. 

Rev. William Miller, the Advent preacher, 432. 

Carnage at the battle of Antietam, 803. 

Carnival of lawlessness and crime, 358. 

Carpenter, F. B., his graphic account of the emancipa- 
tion document, 810; his magnificent historical paint- 
ing, 809. 

Carpenters' or Independence Hall, Philadelphia, 71. 

Carries his London audience by storm, Beecher, 843. 

Carrying all hearts, Mr. Sankey's singing, G64. 

— the stars and stripes to the furthermost north, 539. 
Cartwright, Peter, the revival preacher, 057. 

Casting their children into the sea to escape the flames, 

676. 
'* Casta Diva," as sung by Jenny Lind, 546. 
Casual origin of the telegraph invention, 346. 

— revelations of spiritual phenomena, 473. 
Cattle, effect upon, by the total solar eclipse, 202. 
Cause of the comet's intense brilliancy, 429. 

great fire in New York, 361. 

Causeless raid on marine properly in time of war, 851. 

Cavalry generalship of Kilpatrick, 873. 

Celebrities present at the inauguration of the industrial 
exhibition, 605. 

Celestial piienomena, most grand and brilliant ever be- 
held, 329. 

Cemetery Hill, Gettysburg, scene at, during the battle, 
828. 

Centennial Commemoration of the Birth of 
the Republic, 951-968. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Central America, foundering of the steamer, 635. 

Centuries of fruitless search in surgery, 457; found at 
last, 458. 

Century of the republic, glory of the, 8. 

Ceremonial at Annapolis, Md., on the resignation of 
Washington as commander-in-chief, 117. 

— on the presentation of John Adams, as minister to 
England, to the King, IHl. 

Ceremony at the opening of the N. Y. World's Fair, 605. 
Cessation of labor during the " Dark Day," 92. 



976 



INDEX. 



Cession of immensely valuable territories by Mexico to 
the r. S., -liW. 

Chain of circumstances leading lo Dr. Parkuiau's mur- 
derer, 51:5. 

Chain) Hying upon the stage— sudden fall of the curtain, 
511. 

Challenge sent by Clay lo Randolph, 2$3. 
to Hamilton by Burr, 192. 

" Chamber of Judgment," the vigilance committee's, 651. 

"Champion of the ri^ht of petition," the. 372. 

Championship of America's cause in England by Kev. 
H. W. Beecher, H:t6. 

Change of temi*erature during the total solar eclipse, 

201. 

the barometer during the "Dark Day," 91. 

— sought by the grange movement, 939. 
Changing his plau of operations at Vicksburg, Gen. 

Grant, 819. 
Chanting witches' choruses for Mr. Macready, 510. 
Chapultepeo stormed l)y Gen. Scott, 493. 
Characteristic cxcl;imation by John Quincy Adams, 372. 
Charleston, S. C, batteries erected at, 7G5. 

fearful conllagration in, 353. 

hoisting tin; stars and stripes again in, 875. 

Charmed observers, millions of, of the great auroral spec- 

Ucle, 382. 
Charnel-house horrors during the Chicago fire, 926. 
Charter of the U. S. Bank, opposition to the, 374. 
"Charter" vs. "Constitution," 40H. 
Chase of the Constitution by four British ships, 226. 
Cheering each other amid the roar of tlie waves, 638. 
Chemical and other characteristics of the Dead Sea, 498. 
Chepachet, gathering of armed forces at, 412. 
Cherbourg, combat between the Kearsargo and Alabama 

at, 852; tactics of the two vessels, >i3.'>. 
Cherokee Indians, war with the, 147. 
Cliess performances by Paul Morphy, 666. 
Chicago, 111., burning of, In 1871, 924. 

, the Print-e of Wales's visit to, 7.">7. 

Chickahominy, campaign of the, 878. 
Cliildhood's words in scenes of mortal anguish, 509. 
"Child's play," term used by Clay at the dueling- 
ground, 2H7. 
Cliiinerifal railroad schemes, 045. 

Chiming the city bells at the Boston peace jubilee, 918. 
Choice of Geoi^e Washington as Commander-in-Chief, 

11.3. 
Choral combinations at the national musical festival, 917. 
"Christian dogs" in Algiers, American liberation of, 

187. 
Christmas gift to President Lincoln, Gen. Sherman's, 

87ri. 
Cilley, Hon. Jona., fatally shot in a duel with Graves, 

713. 
Cincinnati and Chicago, during the great awakening, 654. 
— , ovation to the Prince of Wales at, 758. 
Circuit of the comet round the sun, 427. 

travel accomplished by Fremont. 405. 

Circumnavigation and survey of the Dead Sea, 496. 
Circumstances under which the electric telegraph was 

discovered, 346. ' 

Circumstantial description of the sea-serpent by a clergy- 
man. 576. 
Citizenship conferred upon the freed slaves, 815. 
— restored to Thos. W. Dorr, in Rhode Island, 413. 
Ciudad de los Angeles taken possession of, 407. 
Civil war inaugurated in the United States, 7»^. 
Clarke, Billy, originator of the first temperance society, 

393. 
Clasping each other and jumping into the ocean together, 

676, 
Clay, Henry, his duel with John Randolph. 282. 
Clear sky during the great September gale, 265. 



Clerical callers on John Brown in jail, 721. 

Clermont, the name of Fulton's first steam-boat, 21G. 

Climax of enthusiasm at the peace jubilee, 918. 
the total solar eclipse. 201. 

Clinton's, Gen., unsuccessful effort to relieve Burgoyne, 
77. 

wanton destruction of property, 77. 

Clothing and omamenta worn by the Japanese ambassa- 
dors, 7;w. < 

Cobb's, Judge, reply to a Massachusetts mob, 125. 

Cockburn, Admiral, his beastly degradation at Washing- 
ton, 249. 

Coffee instead of rum for Farragul's men, 866. 

Coffin, C. C, his account of Lincoln's reception in Rich- 
mond, 883. 

Cold-water armies and processions, 398 

Coliseum at Boston for the peace jubilee, appearance 
of the. 916. 

Collection ajid use of rock oil by the Indians in olden 
times, 699. 

College named in honor of Lafayette, 281. 

Colliery disaster at Avondale, Penn., 730. 

Collision of the steamers Arctic and Vesta, 608, 

Color of objects during the " Dark Day," 91. 
the sea-serpent. 578 

Colors by the score taken at Antielam, 804. 

Colt, John C, murder of Samuel Adams by, 531. 

Column or area of destruction during the great gale, 
268. 

Combat betwken the Alabama. Captain Skmmes. 

AKD THE KEAKSARGE, CAI-TAIN WlNSLOW, OFF 
ChERBOLUG. 851-858. 

{For topical and analytical details^ see first page qfthis 
Event.) 

Combinations in the interests of labor, 938. 

Combustibles all around on the breaking out of the 
Chicago fire. 92,"^. 

Combustion caused by hot tar on board the ill-fated 
Austria. 674. 

Comet of 1843. sudden appearance of the. 425. 

Coming alongside her antagonist, the Constitution, 228. 

Commemoration of the nation's centennial, 960. 

Commencement of the difficulties between Forrest and 
Macready, 509. 

national executive government, under Washing- 
ton, 143. 

Commerce of all nations, the, devastated by the pirate 
(libbs. 317. 
the North ravaged by the Alabama, 854. 

Commercial palaces in Boston destroyed by fire, sixty- 
five acres of. 936. 

Commingling of horrible sights and sounds in the Pent- 
berton Mills ruins, 724. 

Commission ubtjiincd by Gen. Walker as Nicaraguan 
commander-in-chief. 750. 

Commissioners to France in behalf of the American 
Cause, 70. 

Committee appointed at Phlla., to draft the Declaration 
of Independence, 66. 

— appointed to investigate the spirit rappings. 474. 
Communications between the old world and (he new by 

telegraphy. 904. 
Company formed for consummating the ocean telegrapli 
enterprise, 901. 

— of monarchs and princes at Rarey's horee-taming 
exhibition, 775. 

Comparison of the Chicago and Boston fires, 936. 
Competitors all distanced by the yacht America, 565. 
Completion of the Pacifk" Railroao, 907-914. 
{For topical and analytical drttiih, see first page of this 

Ereiit.) 
Complications between England and America caused by 
the Alabama, 851. 



INDEX. 



977 



Complimentary tribute from Cornwallis to Gen. Wash- 
ington. 111. 

Complimenting bis guest's temperance principle, Wash- 
ington, 401. 

Compliments to Mr. Field, the projector of the ocean 
telegraph, 901. 

Composure of Prof. Webster during his trial for murder, 
528. 

Compromise bill originated by Mr. Clay, 325r 

Computations of the comet's orbit, 425. 

Concentration of the contending armies at Gettysburg, 
Pa., 827. 

Conceptions in military strategy, Sherman's unequaled, 
878. 

Concert by Jenny Lind at Castle Garden, her first in 
America, 546. 

ten thousand children during the Boston peace 

jubilee, 921. 

Concurrence of testimony relating to the sea-serpent, 
577. 

Condemnatory resolution, passage of, against Pres. Jack- 
son, 375. 

Conduct of Washington on being named as commander- 
in-chief, 113. 

Conference between Commodore Perry and the Japan- 
ese officials, 59G. 

— in Canada, John Brown's, 715. 
Confession of his crime by Spencer, 420, 

, Gibbs's, 315; his execution, 319. 

— of Mrs. Tilton. 946; her retracting the same, 947. 
Confidence fortunately misplaced, 416. 
"Confidence." in hard times, a Frenchman's idea of, 

645. 

Contident of victory, Capt- Semraes, 855. 

Configuration of the Dead Sea determined by Ameri- 
can surveys. 497. 

Conflagration and suicide instead of an execution, in 
Colt's case, 531. 

— in tlie business heart of Boston, 931. 

— of 1835, as viewed from Coeniies Slip, 357. 
Conflict of testimony in the Beeclier trial, 918. 
Congratulatory reply to W;ishington, in congress, on his 

resigning his commission, 117. 
Congress driven from its halls in 1783, 167. 
— , fate of the frigate, 791. 
— , first session of, at Washington, 171. 
Congressional temperance society. 394. 
Connecticut legislature, session of. during the " Dark 
Day," 90. 

COXQCEST AND BURNING OF WASHINGTON? BY THE 

Britisu, 242-249. 
(For topical and analytical details^ see first page of this 

Event.) 
Consents to examine some documents in the cabin, 749. 
Conservatory, beauty of the centennial, 957. 
Conspiracy and trial of Aaron Burr, 204-211. 
(For topical and analyiical details, see first nar/e of this 
Event.) ' 

— to murder all the chief oflicers of the government, 
887. 

Consternation in England, on Comwallis's surrender, 

108. 
Constituting the first Mormon church, 309. 
Constitution, capture of the Guerriere by the frigate, 

225. 

CONSTITtTTIOX, FEDERAL, FORMATION AND ADOP- 
TION OF THE, 132. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Eve tit.) 
Construction of a steam-boat by Fulton, 214. 

the N. r. Crystal Palace, 602. 

Consummate generalship displayed by Jackson at New 
Orleans, 257. 

(J2 



Consummation of all temporal things predicted, 432. 
Contemplated arrest of Calhoun by Pres. Jackson, 324. 
Contempt of Americans for Japanese etiquette, 594. 
Contents of the tea-chest, vault, and furnace, in Prof. 

Webster's apartments, 525. 
Continent, the Antarctic, seen by the XJ. S. exploring ex- 
pedition, 390. 

—8 connected by a vast and lofty ice-wall, 536. 
Contrast between Clay and Randolph, 286. 
Control of the key to the public funds, 375. 
Convention at Philadelphia for framing the Constitution, 
133. 
— , extraordinary, of American bishops, 448. 
Conversation between John Brown and his jailor, 721. 

— — King George and John Adams, 123. 

Midi aipuian Spencer and his commander, 417. 

■ the a^^sassin Booth and his captors, 897. 

— with Morrissey after the prize-fight, 686; his ideaaa 
to a seat in congress, 687. 

Pres. Lincoln on the evening of the tragedy, 889 

Senator Broderick in his dying hour. 711. 

Conversions of infidels and pugilists during the revival, 

659. 
Convulsions of nature during the western earthquake, 

220. 
Conway, Gen., his intrigues against Gen. Washington, 79. 
Cool delay of Hull in commencing his action with the 

Guerriere, 232. 
Coolness of Gen. Walker on marching to the place of exe- 
cution, 755. 
Cooper. J. Fenimore, his opinion of John Paul Jones's 

naval victory, 81. 
Co-operation of eminent men in the temperance move- 
ment, 394. 
Co-operative system proposed by the grangers, 939. 
Coral characteristics of the petroleum regions, 705. 
Corbett, Boston, the slayer of J. Wilkes Booth, 896. 
Corliss engine, Pres. Grant and Emperor Dom Pedro 

starling the, 954. 
Corner-stone of the U. S. capitol, laying of the, 170. 
Cornet quartet band of the Emperor William, 923. 
Cornwallis surrenders his Splendid Army to 

Gen. Washington, 104-111. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Coronation of lal'or, the, 607. 
Corpse, Washington's, re-interment and appearance 

of, in 1837, 178. 
Correcting bank mistakes, 289. 
Correspondence, final, between Grant and Lee, 882, 
Corruscations in the atmosphere, during the " Dark 

Day," 92. 
Corsairs of Barbary, piratical, driven from the ocean, 

182. 
Cortege of Pres. Lincoln's remains through the -North 

and West, 891. 
Cotton-gin. invention of the, 153. 

Countenances of the two duelists on the fatal field, 709. 
Counterfeit petitions sent to congress, 3ii7. 
Courage at the battle of New Orleans, 262. 
Course of the total solar eclipse. 199. 
Court, Wliitney's cotton-gin in, 158. 
Court-scene during Burr's trial, 210. 
Courtesies between Jenny Lind and Daniel Webster, 548 
the victor and the vanquished of the prize-ring, 

68G. 

— in old age between Adamri and Jefferson, 295. 

— of the British general to Mrs. Madison, 248. 
Courting 'he embrace of death, 615. 

Courts of justice threatened by Massachusetts rebels, 

128. 
" Cradle of Liberty," or Faneuil Hall, in Boston, 963. 
Craft and cunning of Santa Anna in warfare, 488. 



978 



INDEX. 



Crash, sudden and universal, in the commercial world, 

650. 
Crawford's grand charge at Gettysburg, 831. 
Creek war of 1814, 147. 

Crest of South Mountain, the troops at the, 7D9, 
Crew of the Constitution, tribute to Oie, 2'20. 

steamer Arctic deserting the ship, 615. 

Crippled at last, the monster ram, 864. 

Crisis in the 1)usiness and financial world, 644. 

life of Mr. Calhoun, 327. 

— of public affairs after the revolutionary war, 132. 
Critical point in the battle on Lake Charaplain, 255. 
Crops, singular effect of the Sept. gale, 1815, on the, 

269. 
Crowned beads admiring American mechanical genius, 

742. 
Crowning glory of Gen. Jackson's civil life, 378. 
Cruise, memorable, of the frigate Constitution, 226. 
"Cruiser," Karey's management of the furious horse 

known as, 774. 
Crushed within the coils of Sherman's resistless columns, 

873. 
Crj'stal bridge connectin* America and Greenland, 

536 

— Palace, New York, exhibition in the, 600. 
Culmination of the Forrest and Macready dispute, 

508. 

sectional antagonism produced by slaver)-, 

764. 
Cumberland, army of the, reunion of at Philadelphia, 
955. 

— piercing and sinking of the frigate, 792. 
Cunningham, Mrs , her trial for the murder of l>r. Bur- 
dell, 626. 

'*Cup of All Nations," the, won by the Americans, 

565. 
Curiosities of telegraphic science in connection with the 

cable, 904. 
Curtain of rich and gorgeous colors covering the earth, 

383. 
Cushman, Charlotte, recites the ode at the inauguration 

of Boston organ, 849. 
Custis's account of Washington's last hours, 175. 
Customs and theories in business, changes sought by the 

grangers in, 910. 

— initiated at the first presidential inauguration, 144. 
Cut-throfita banded together against society in Cali- 
fornia, 550. 

Cutting off Lee's hope of retreat, Gen. Grant, 8S1. 



D. 



Dacres, Captain, his Insolent challenge to the American 

navy, 228. 
Damages of $100,000 sought by Mr. Tilton, &46. 
Dancing with the Prince of Wales, 763. 
Daniel and John, the basis of Miller's second advent 

conclusions, 434. 
Danville, Jeflf. Davis setting up his government at, 

884. 
Dark case for Mrs. Cunningham in court, 631. 
Da.uk Day in all New England, May 19, 1780, 89. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event.) 
Darkest page in the history of the country, 887. 
Darkness during the total solar eclipse, 197. 
Data exhibiting our proiUgious national growth, 8. 
" Daughter of the Regiment." Jenny Lind as the, 543. 
Davis. Jefferson, at the battle of Bull Bun, 787. 
, his fliglil from Richmond. 884; his capture, 884; 

a prisoner at Fortress Monroe, 884. 
Dawn of peace and universal joy, 887. 



Day-break scene at Harper's Ferry, Oct. 17, 1859, 718. 
Daz/.Iing ice-wall of boundless dimensions, 536. 

— magnificence of the gifts to Paul Morphy, 669. 

— representations of his schemes, Burr's, 205. 
Dead and living floating together, G;^. 

— Sea and River Jordan, expedition to. 494. 

Deadly encounter between Hon. Messrs. Cilley and 
Graves, 712. 

Deafening acclamations at the result of the Lake Chain- 
plain battle. 256. 

Dealing with the savages, Wilkes's exploring party, 

392. 

Death of Alexander Hamilton, 195. 
Deatu of George Washington, 174-181. 

For topical and analytical dttails, see first page qf this 

Event ) 
Death-bed scenes and incidents, Pres. Lincoln's, 891. 
Deutb-knell of Indian power in America, 152. 
Debate between Webster and llayne, 297. 

— s in the convention for forming the Federal Constitu- 
tion, 136. 
Decanters relieved of their contents, 394. 
Decatur. Commodore, his new style of " tribute,** 182. 
December 111, is:{5, night of, memorable in N. Y., 35;i. 
Deciding the fate of the metropolis, 245. 
Decl.vuation of Independence and National 

SoVKRElGNTY, 65-71. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Declining to drink wine at Washington's table, 401. 

Decomposition of marino plants causing petroleum, 
705. 

Decoy -letter sent by "Washington, 107. 

Dedicating ceremonies at the Bull Run memorial monu- 
ment, 788. 

Dedication of " Our First Century," 7. 

Deep-laid plot to convert the U. S. Brig Somers into a 
pirate, 415. 

— red appearance of the snow, in Nov., 1837, 380. 
Defeat of the British on their favorite element, 256. 
Defending his country's cause in England, Rev. H. W. 

Beecher, &5G. 

— the right of petition in congress, 368. 

Defiance of the British Kmjnre by her Youngest Colo- 
nies, 65. 

Degradation of the Barbary States by the Young Repub- 
lic, 1S2. 

DeHaven, Lieut. E. J., his command of the Advance 
and Rescue, 534. 

Deistic views of Wm. Miller, in his early life, 432. 

Delvalb's grave, visit of W:ishington and Lafayette to, 
278. 

Delaware, passage of the, by Washington. 114. 

Delegates to the convention for framing the Federal 
Constitution, 134. 

Delightful responsive warbling between Jenny Llnd and 
an out-door bird, 547. 

Deliverer among the delivered, 884. 

Demonstrations along the route of Fulton's first steam- 
boat, 211. 

Demoralization of the Union troops at Bull Run, 786. 

Demosthenes and Webster compared, 297. 

Denmark acknowledges the independence of the U. S., 
71. 

Denunciation of the U. S. whiskey tax, 160. 

Denunciatory debate in congress against John Quincy 
Adams, 365. 

Departure of Lafayette from America, 281. 
the Great Eastern for the western world. 744. 

Depositions of imnierous eye-witnesses of the sea-ser- 
pent, 577. 

Depth and density of darkness, May 19, 1780, 94. 

Deputations from all parts of the land to Kossuth, 688. 



ENDEX. 



979 



De Rochambeau, Count, extolled by the American peo- 
ple, 110. 

Descent into an extinct volcano, 389. 

Description of the magniticent centennial exposition, 
955. 

scene in parliament when American Inde- 
pendence was acknowledged, 120. 

Desolation of all New England by the grtat September 
gale, 270. 

Desperate midnight movement by Comwallis, 106. 

Desperation and death during the fire in Chicago, 926. 

Despotic power of Bradford, the Penn. iusarrectionist, 
over his followers, 165. 

Destinies of the Republic changed, 616. 

Destructive effect of the Merrimac's movements in 
Hiinipton Roads, 792. 

Details of the great organ erected in Boston, 846. 

Deti'otion of Andre's character as a spy, 99. 

Detective skill. Col. Baker's, in capturing Booth, 894. 

Det-*rmination not to harm Burr, Hamilton's, 194. 

— of the Young Republic to punish the piratical pow- 
ers, 183. 

Development among all nations of " spiritual " phenom- 
ena, 472. 

Devotion of Theodosia, Burr's daughter, to her father, 
210. 

Diabolical conspiracy of Booth and his accomplices, 887. 

Diameter of the comet's bright nucleus, 429. 

Diary, last entrance in Washington's, 175. 

Different tastes and preferences consulted in this vol- 
uuie, 11. 

— temperaments of jurymen illustrated, 696. 
Dignity of the members comprising the convention for 

forming the Federal Constitution, 133. 

Dimensions of the most superb organ in America, 845. 
sea-serpent, 580. 

Dinner-party account of Lee*s surrender, Gen. Grant's, 
882. 

Diplomatic conferences with the Japanese, 597. 

Dipping her colors to the Queen, 566. 

Dire apprehension of impending calamity, 322. 

Direction of tbe terrible Sept. gale, 270. 

Dirge and requiem fill the land, at Pres. Lincoln's death, 
892. 

Disabling of the monster craft Merrimac by the Moni- 
tor, 795. 

Disagreement in the Tilton-Beecher case, 950. 

Disappointed expectations at Lake Champlain, 252. 

Disappointment of Miller, the Second Advent preacher, 
437. 

Disastrous defeat of the Union army at Bull Run, 786. 

Disavowal of partisan aims by the grangers, 9i0. 

Disc of the sun seen during the *' Dark Day," 93. 

Discharging his pistol into the air, Randolph, in the 
duel, 288. 

Disciplinary sentence passed on the Bishop of Penn., 
448. 

Discountenancing the practice of dueling, Henry Clay, 
707. 

Discouragement of the cotton-gin invention by British 
manufacturers, 156. 

Discouraging Lafayette's American scheme. 273. 

DiscovEiiY OF Gold at Sutter's Mill, Cali- 
fornia, 500-507. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

prodigious quantities of illuminating oil in the 

depths of the earth, 698. 

Discovery of the Inhalation of Ethek as a 
Preventive of Pain, 456-4a3. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Discretion the better part of valor, 252. 



Discussions in a shop on a proposed invention, 465. 

Disguise of Burr on his tii^ht, 209. 

Dismay in the Mexican capital at Scott's approach. 491. 

— of the brute creation during the ' Dark Day," 89. 
Dismemberment of the Biitish realm by the separation 

of the colonies, 120. 
Union, inauguration of war for the, 764. 

Dispatch from Commodore Perry, 234. 
Gen. Washington announcing Comwallis's sur- 
render, 104. 

Dispersion of Gov. Dorr's forces at Chepachet, 413. 

Display by the U. S. Government at the centennial, 
957. 

Disruption of the polar ice-fields on the advent of the 
sun, 535. 

Dijisolution ot the Union, the. petition for, 367. 

Dissuading Pres. Jackson from extreme anti-nullifica- 
tion measures. 324, 

Distillers, Penn. whiskey, defiance of the U. S. tax col- 
lectors by. 162. 

Distinct and leisurely view of the sea-serpent, 578. 

Distributing the Jamestown's cargo, 485. 

District of Columbia, corner ttoiie of, 170. 

Disunion banners raised all over the South, 764. 

— sternly rebuked by Pres. Jackson, 321. 
Doctor Burdell found dead by his office-hoy, 626. 
Doing honor to the memory of Bishop Onderdonk, 455. 
Dom Pedro, emperor of Brazil, at the centennial, 952. 
Dome of the crystal palace, its unrivaled beauty, 603. 

N. Y. Merchants' Exchange, its fall in the great 

fire, 355. 
Doniphan's march of five thousand miles, 488. 
"Don't give up the ship,** Perry's motto on Lake Eiie^ 

234. 
" Don't know when they are whipped! " 871. 
" Don*t shoot me ! "—last words of Key, 692. 
'•Don't tread on me!"— motto on first American naval 

flag, 82. 
Dorr, Thomas W., leader of the rebellion in Rhode 

Island, 408. 
Double execution of criminals in San Francisco, 554. 

— ironing the mutineers, 417. 

— sweep of the comet's tail, 425. 
Doubleday. Gen., in the battle of Antietara, 799. 
Downfall of our nation predicted by foreign states- 
men, 8. 

Downie, Captain, his command of the British navy on 

Lake Champlain, 251. 
Doxology at Fort Sumtei', singing tbe, 886. 
Drafting the Declaration of Independence, 295. 

emancipation pioclamation, Pres. Lincoln, 809. 

Dramatic interview between Marshall, the gold-finder, 

and Sutter, his employer, 504. 
Dramatis personae presented in this volume, variety 

of. 13. 
Drawing his lines about the enemy, Sherman, 869. 
Dream of Pres. Lincoln preceding battles. 888. 
Dress of Daniel Webster on state occasions, 302. 

— worn by Washington at his inauguration, 144, 
Drink of grog, a, stipulated for in Washington's hand- 
writing, 397. 

Drinking each other's health, Webster and Hayne, 305. 
Driving the enemy en masse, 799. 

last spike on the Pacific railroad, 911. 

Dropping of a bomb in money circles, 645. 

Drowning preferred to death by burning, 675. 

Dublin, celebration of the American centennial at, 

965. 
DOEL BETWEEN HENRT ClAY, SECRETARY OF STATE, 

AND John Randolph, U. S. Senator from Vir- 
ginia, 282-290. 
{For topical and analytical details, sec first page of this 
Event.) 



980 



INDEX. 



Duel between Cilley and Graves, 712. 

Seniitor BroJerkk and .Judie Terry, 707. 

Col. Burr and Gen. Hamilton, 169. 

Dupes, Morinon, (roin all parts of the world, 312. 

Duration of the t^itnl solar eclipse, 1118. 

Duti-h method of dualina with Japan, 092. 

Dwijjht, I'resident Timotiiy, his prediction concerning 

Calhoun, 324. 
Dying declar.ition o£ an accused bishop, 448. 

— in his country's capitol, John Quincy Adams, 372. 

— message of the ass.assin Booth to his mother, 89fi. 

— within hearing, but hopeless of succor, 724. 

— words of John Adams, 295. 



E. 



Each moment an hour— waiting for the jury to come in, 

691. 
Eager for the march to the North, Lee's army, 82G. 
Earle. A. B., the revival preacher, G57. 
Early days of telegraphing. 3.')2. 

— predictions concerning ocean telegraphy, 89D. 
Eartliquakc phenomena at sea, 220. 

—8 in tlie United States, 218. 
Easton, Pa., college at, named in honor of L-afayette, 

281. 
Easy basis of the first temperance society, 393. 
Ebb of his vital spirit, Pres. Lincoln's, 892. 
Ecclesiastical coincidences of a remarkable character, 

449. 

— government of the Mormon sect, 309. 

Eclat gained by America in the great international 
regatta, 558. 

— of the great World's Fair, (590. 
national peace jubilee, 921. 

Eclipse of the sun, total, at mid-day, 196. 

Edmonds and Dexter, their investigations of "spirit" 
phenomena, 477. 

Edwards, Pres. Jonathan, grandfather of Aaron Burr, 
190. 

EfHciency of Jackson's defensive preparations at Now 
Orleans. 258. 

Efforts by firemen to save the N. T. Merchants' Ex- 
change, .'J.55. 

— to change the Japanese restrictive policy, 697. 

— — save Andre's life, 102. 

Egypt's contribution to llie centennial, 955. 

Eight hundred buililings burned in the great fire, 9.16. 

— thousand horse-power of the Great Eastern, 74G. 
machines moved by one engine. 954. 

Eighteen million dollars, loss of, in the N. Y. fire, 356. 

— thousand buildings destroyed by the lire in Chicago, 
929. 

— yachts at the international regatta, 561. 

— -pounder, an, crosses Burgoyne's table, while he is in 
council, 78. 

Eighth of .January, the, at New Orleans, 260. 
Eighty-live million dollars' value lost in tho Boston fire, 

936. 
one out of eighty-four games won by Morphy at the 

Chess Congress, 667. 
Elation over the verdict in the Sickles case, 695. 
Elbowing her way to the bank counter, 649. 
Eldestsonof Queen Victoria visiting the U. S..757. 

El.ECTIO>f AND IXAlKitlBATlOX, FlUST, OF A PRESI- 
DENT OF THE United States, 139-145. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event.) 
Electric experiments, Franklin's, 346. 

— telegraph, invention of tho, 345. 
Electricity aiding musical performances, 918> 



Elegant appearance of Washington at his inauguration, 

144. 
Eleven days' contest, single-handed, in congress, J. Q. 
Adams's, .(70. 
— terrible rounds in a twenty-two minutes prize-fight, 

681. 
Emanation of the remarkable meteoric shower from 

one point, 331. 
Emancipation of the slaves proclaimed by Pres. Lin- 
coln, 807. 
Embassy in 1860 from the Empire of Japan, 732. 
Embalming Pres. Lincoln's body, 893. 
Embarkation of the polar expedition, 387. 
Embellishment of this volume, profuse and costly, 14. 
Emblematic decorations at the Boston peace jubilee. 

beauty of, 916. 
Eniboiliment of various perfections in the great Boston 

organ, 817. 
Emigrants pouring into the oil regions, 703. 
Emperor and president side by side at the centennial, 

952. 
Emphatic denial of guilt by Bishop Onderdonk, 452. 
Empire at the south-west, contemplated by Burr, 
204. 

— s of the post, greatness of our republic compared with 
the, 8. 
Employment of the Great Eastern for conveying the 

ocean telegraph cable, 901. 
Emulation in international exhibitions, GOO. 
Enchanting record of adventure in the far north-west, 

404. 
Enchantment of Jenny Lind's voice, 518. 
Encomium upon Miussachuselt.-' by Mr. Webster, 301. 
Encompassed for months by Grant's army, the confed- 
erate capital, 877. 
Encores and showers of bouquets at Jenny Lind's con- 
certs, 546. 
End of Tecumseh, the famous Indian chief, 24L 

the world looked for. May 19, 1780, 89. 

Energetic course of W.ashington in suppressiiig Shays'8 

rebellion, 127. 
Enfranchisement added to freedom, 816. 
Engagements with the whiskey insurgents in Penn., 

163. 
Engine-house at Harper's Ferry, occupation of the, by 

John Brown, 717; stormed by the U. S. troops, 718. 
Engineering feats involved in the Pacific railway con- 
struction, 910. 
Engines sent from seven States during the Chicago Are, 

927. 
England refuses to harbor Aaron Burr, 210. 
English opinion of the capture of the Guerriere, 225. 
— soldiers eating dinner at the White House, 248. 
Engulfing of hundreds of souls in a sudden and watery 

grave, 609. 
Enshrinement of the great Boston organ in a case, 

847. 
Entering the city of Vlcksburg, Union troops, 823. 
Entertaining the Japanese otticials, 598. 
Entire impartiality, religious and political, of this vol- 
ume, 13. 
Entrance of the American army into the Mexican capi- 
tal, 493. 

British army into 'Washington, 246. 

Epidemics, eras of, in America, 516. 
Equal to the destinies of the moment, 300. 

EKE<TI0N and iNAlUiOBATION OF THE GREAT OB- 

OAN i.v THE Boston Mtisic Hall. 844-850. 
(For topical and analytical iletails, see first page qf this 

F.mit) 
Ericsson's construction of the world-renowned Monitor, 

793. 
Erring, but forgiven and redeemed, 696. 



INDEX. 



981 



Escaping from chamber-windows during the gale and 
flood, *JG6. 

— the just penalties of crime, 633. 
Espy, the " storm king," 348, 

Espying the gun-boat's signal, Sherman's joy on, 874. 
Ksquimaux, Dr. Hayes dealing with the, 540. 
Establishment of the Republic on a permanent founda- 
tion, 137. 
Eternal snows of the Sierra Nevada, 405. 
European admiration of General Washington, 179. 

— war veterans selected for operations in America, 
263. 

Evarts, W. M., orator at the Philadelphia celebration, 

960. 
Events in our first century, great and memorable, 10. 
Everett, Edward, his opinion of Webster's speech, 

302. 
Every adversary vanquished by Morphy, 667. 

— British vessel captured on Lake Erie, 239, 

— eye on " the Yankee," 5ii0. 
" Every man for himself," 615. 

— oflicer true to his colors, 418. 

Evidence, pro and con, in the Onderdonk case, 454. 
— s of awful convulsions in the Rocky Mountains, 
404. 

*• Exactly the correct thing to do," Japanese idea of, 
738. 

Examination of the Fejee group by scientific voyagers, 
391. 
■ Whitn6y*s cotton-gin invention by southern plant- 
ers, 156. 

Example of Gen. Taylor in favor of temperance, 401. 

Exasperation of the Canadians by Benedict Arnold, 
97. 

— produced by the Mormons at the West, 311. 
Exceptional distinction conferred on Lafayette and Kos- 
suth. 589. 

E.VLhange of compliments between the Queen of England 

and John Adams, 124. 
Exclamation of gratitude, Washington's, on receiving 

news of Burgoyne's capture, 79. 

Pres. Jackson on being fired at, 338. 

Mrs. Sickles on being discovered in her guilt, 

691. 

the Indians on viewing the comet, 425. 

Exclusion of all dry topics from this volume, 11. 
Excursion of discovery to the Cordilleras, 389. 
Execution of one of Burgoyne*s spies, 78. 
Executive mansion at Washington, first occupied by 

Pres. Adams. 170. 
Exemption of Mr. Ogden's house in the midst of the 

Chicago fire, 930. 
Exeter Hall, London, Beecher's defense of his country 

in, 839. 
Exhaustless yield of petroleum, 703. 
Exhibiting the original Declaration of Independence, 

July 4, 1S7G, 967. 
Exhibition of the Industry of All Nations, in 

New York. 600-607. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Exhibition of auroral wonders, unparalleled, 181. 
Exhilarating contents of this volume. 12. 
Exigency that caused the proclamation of emancipation, 

807. 
Exordium oi Webster's speech, 300. 
Expected Destruction of the world, 431-^38. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Expectations of short Ufo, Washington's, 175. 
Expedition to the Akctic Seas, 533-540. 
iFor topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 



Expedition to the Ri\'er Jordan and Dead Sea, 

494-499. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event.) 
Expedition to the South Pole, 386-392. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first 7>a^e of this 

Event.) 
Experience vs. examples, Gen. Sherman's opinion of, 

869. 
Experiences crowded into one awful hour, 613. 
Experiments by Com. Stockton with his great gun, 

446. 

— during the "Dark Day," 94. 

Explanation by Mr. Beecher of his relations with Mrs. 
Tilton, 945. 

— demanded by Clay from Randolph, 283. 

— of the "spiritual" manifestations, 475. 
Exploring Expedition to the South Pole, under 

Commander Wilkes, U. S. N., 386-392. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Evi'id.) 

Explosive sounds accompanying the meteoric shower, 
332. 

Exportation of petroleum in immense quantities, 703. 

Expulsion of John Quincy Adams from congiess, the 
threatened, 365. 

Expunging resolution, the, passage of, in the U. S. sen- 
ate, 378. 

Exquisite mechanism of the Atlantic telegraph cable, 
904. 

Exquisitely constructed telescopes for the total solar 
eclipse, 201. 

Extending a welcome to Kossuth on the floor of congress, 
589. 

Extension of popular suffrage sought for in Rhode Isl- 
and, 408. 

Extensive and Calamitous Earthquake at the 
West, 218-224. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
Event.) 

Extraordinary Combat between the Iron-Clads 
Merrimao and Monitor, in Hampton Roads, 
789-797. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Extreme anxiety of Washington at Yorktnwn, 107. 

Extricating the buried from the Pemberton Mills ruins, 
724. 

Exultation at the news of the Declaration of Independ- 
ence, 67. 

— over the completion of the Pacific railroad, 913. 
Eyes of the whole nation riveted on Fort Sumter, 765. 



F. 



Fabulous prices in the early history of California, 

507. 
Facades of granite in Boston, curious effect of the fire 

on, 935. 
Face to face at Gettysburg, the two contending armies, 
827. 

— scene between Generals Grant and Lee, 882. 

Facing the audience at the tragical moment, Booth, 

890. 
Fact in history cited by Kossuth, 589. 
Failure of Cornwallis to reach Gen. Clinton, 106. 

Lawrence's pistol-shot to kill Pres. Jackson, 

338. 

the oldest and wealthiest houses in the great 

panic, 650. 
potato crop in Ireland. 



982 



INDEX. 



Fair Coluinbi:i-s bounties to the sufferers in Ireland, 428. 

— play iiml a fair beat, 559. 

— ruinetl, ivcuiteiit, forgiven, dead. 097. 

Fall of Kich.mo.nu, Va., the Confederate Capi- 
tal, 877-88G. 
(For topical and analytical detcUls.see firtt page qf lh„ 

Erent.) 
Fall of the Great Pesiberton Mills is L.vw- 

BESCE, Mass., 723-731. 
{For topical and analytical dctaUi, see first page of (/«■« 

Event:) 
Fall of Hamilton, in bi.i duel with Burr, 190. 
Falls of Delaware, proposed establishment of the nation- 

al capital at, 108. 
Niagara, scene at during the meteoric shower, 

330. 
Fame and fortune to an inventor, 351. 
Fan.marity with chess-moves in his tenth year, Mor- 

phv'9, (jG'"'- , . 

Families innumerable desolated by the Central America 

disaster, fi:tC. 
Fajious Whiskey Insurrectios in Pennsylvania, 

160-16G. . ,,,. 

I For topical and analytical details, see J<rst page of this 

Event.) 
Fantastic mountain scenery, as viewed by WUlces's party. 



Farewell between Benedict Arnold and his wife, 

_ to their leader, Lee's officers teadering their, 

Famsworth. Gen., at Bull Ran. 788. 

Farragut, Admiral, his achievemenU at ^ew Orleans 

and Mobile, 800. 
Fascinating personal and professional history of Jenny 

Lind, 511. „. , , . 

Fastening ships Serapis and Bon Homme Kichard to- 
gether in combat, 86. 
Fating and prayer, d.y appointed for by the president, 

on account of llic pestilence, 51G. 
Fatal broali in Lee's lines at Richmond, 881. 
Fatal Dcel betwees Col. Birr and Gen. Alex- 
ander Hamilton, 189-195. . 
(_For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Ecent.) 
Fatal Duel between Hon. D. C. Broderick and 

Hon. D. S. Teiirv, 707-712. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Erent.) 
Fatal misapprehension of one word, .'.08. 

— mistake of a Chicago policeman, 925. 
Fate of the repul)lic hanging on the hour, 801. 
Father Mathew's visit to America, 398. 
" Fatlier of his country," getting sight of the, U3. 

— of the republic, tribute to the, 29S. 
Fault in the law of nations, 851. 
Favorable personal impression made by Cornwallis, 

no. . 

Favorite ship of the nation, the Constitution, -i.. 
Fearful momentum of the comet's approach to the earth, 

429 

Feast of Inspiring harmonies at the Boston Peace Jubi- 
lee, 919. 

Feat of Burnslde'a corps at Antietam, 802. 

Federal Constitution, Formation and Adoption 

of, 132-138. 
I For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event.) 
Federalists, Hamilton the champion of the, 191. 
Feejee reception of explorers, 391. 
Feelings experienced while drowning. Oil. 
Feints successfully made by Sherman on hU march to 

the sea, 871. 



Female heroism at the Peml>erton Mills tragedy, 727. 
Ferry to China by way of the Pacific railroad, 9U. 
Festival of music in Boston in honor of the return of 

peace, 915. 
Field, Cyrus W., his Indomitable labors in ocean tele- 
graphy, 906. 

- of battle at Yorktown, revisited by Lafayette, 277. 
"— of honor" at Bladensburg. 288. 

Fields of rainbow hues during the night of Nov. 14, 1837, 

383 
Fiery commotion of the whole firmament for hours, 

329 
Fifteen generals and 37,000 prisoners taken at Vicks- 

burg, 823. 

— ghastly stabs on Dr. Burdell's body, 628. 
Fiftieth Anniversary and Celebration of the 

Independence of the Republic, 291-296. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page qT this 

Event.) 
Fillibustering expeditions by General Walker. 748. 
Filling the gap on thfc Pacific railroad divisions. 910. 
Fillmore, ['resident, hU oration on the capitol exten- 

Final amendments to the Federal Constitution, in the 
convention at Phila., 137. 

— day, supposed arrival of the, 330. 
Financial crisis throughout the country. 644. 

- embarrassment of the country after the revoluUonary 

war, 133. . .., . 

- panic aggravated by the Central America disaster, 

Finney. Charles G., the revival preacher, 657. 

Fire and ruin in Chicago, thirty hours of wide-spread, 

929. 

— in New York Citv, terrible, 353. 
_ -proof buildings in Chicago instanUy swept away by 

the fire. 927. ^ ,. 

Firemen called out during the brilliant aurora borealis, 

380. 

— 's victory at last over the great fire, 9.13. 
Fire-works, resemblance of the great meteoric shower to. 

Firmament, the whole, in fiery commotion for hours, 

329. 
First American Naval Victory, 81-87. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page qT this 

Erent.) 
"First blood" at the prize-fight, cheering over the, 

685. 

— attempt to bore for oil. 699. 

— crossing the Atlantic by steam. 741. 
_ disnatcli over the telegraph wires, 350. 
_ entrance of the Prince of Wales In American waters, 

-'foreign scientific enterprise undertaken by the U. 
S. government, 386. _ 

_ important engagement in the great c.vi war, .81. 
- militarv act in the long and bloody evil «"«■••'«■ 

FIRST OROANI7.ED REBELLION IN THE UNITED 

States (1786). 125-131. _ 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page qTlhis 

Event.) 
Firet royal army ever surrendered to Americans, 72. 
_ steam-boat voyage on American water*, .14. 
Fitzpatrick's account of the siege of Vicksburg. 819. 
Five great speeches in Europe for his country s cause. 
Rev H. W. Beecher's, 836. 
_ thousand persons present at Jenny Lind's first con- 

oert 546 
Flag of a British squadron struck for the first time to 

Fltrrant crimiiial inUmacyof Mis. Sickles and Mr. Key, 
690. 



INDEX. 



Flag-ship Hartford fighting the monster ram Tennessee, 
863. 

— reception, the Japanese at a, 598. 

Flame-like protuJ>e ranees of the sun during the eclipse, 

200. 
Flames of fire leaping up the Austria's shrouds, 676. 
Flat-boats, building of, for Burr's expedition, 205. 
Fleet built by Com. Perrj', to meet the British, 235. 

— of naval vessels sent to the Bitrbary States, 
182. 

Flight of Aaron Burr, 209. 

Gov Dorr to Connecticut, 413. 

Jeff Dnvis from Richmond, 884. 

Flinging away their arms and stores at Bull Run, 785. 
Flirtation with commissioner Mason in Loudon, British, 

8il. 
Floating in solitude on the bosom of the ocear*, 638. 
Flood-gates of bankruptcy opened upon the land, 

646. 
Florida, Georgia and Sumter, the confederate cruisers, 

851. 

— Indians, war with, 147. 

FlowL-rs and applause in the Brooklyn court-room, 
946. 

Fluent and melodious elocution of Senator Hayne, 
299. 

Fondling of horses by Mr. Rarey that no one else could 
approach, 775. 

Food for the land of want and woe. 481. 

Foot, Senator, his celebrated resolution in congress, 
298. 

Foote, Admiral A. H., his naval operations, 861. 

Forbes'a mission of humanity to Ireland, 483, 

Force of Shays's rebellion in Massachusetts, 128. 

Forcing Hamilton into a duel, 191. 

Ford's theater, Washington, assassination of Pres. Lin- 
coln in, 887. 

Forensic power displayed by Daniel Webster, 299. 

— triumph of Mr Beeeher in Liverpool, 837. 
Forest of oil-well derricks, 700. 

— s crushed by the western earthquake, 221. 
— s cut clean down by the awful Sept. gale, 270. 
Formal opening of the centennial exposition, 960. 

— recognition of the national capital, 171. 

FORMATIOX AND ADOPTIOX OF THE FEDERAL CON- 
STITUTION. 132-138. 

(For topical and anahjtical details, aee jirst page of this 

Event.) 
Former friendship between Forrest and Macready, 

509. 
Forrest, Edwin, the American tragedian, his difficulties 

with Macready, 509. 
Forsaken by her crew, the ill-fated steamer Arctic, 

615. 
Fort Fisher, Admiral Porter's crowning victory at, 

867 

— McAllister, fall of, 875. 

— Moultrie in the operations at Charleston, 766. 

— Sumter besieged and captured. 768. 

— s Montgomery and Clinton captured by the British, 

77. 
Fortifications at Vicksburg. 817. 
Fortitude and serenity of Washington in his last hours, 

177. 
Fortuitous incident, leading to a great discovery, 

465. 
Fortunes suddenly acquired in the oil regions, 704. 

— swept away in a day, 645. 

Forty confederate colors taken at Antietam, 804. 

— millions of people in 1876, 951. 

— thousand persons aj^sembled in Wall street. 648. 
one confederate standards taken at Gettysburg, 

854. 



FotrNDERING OF THE StEAMEB CENTRAL AMERICA, 

IN A Gale off Cafe Hatteras, 635-&43. 
(For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page of this 

Event.) 
Founding and E.stablishment of the National 

Capital, 167-173. 
(For topical and analytical details, see lirst page of this 

Event. ) 
Fountains of the higher life opened up in the revival 

movement. 661. 
Four acres of people listening to Parepa-Rosa, 919. 

— anxious days, 636. 

— hours' fight between the monster Merrimac and the 
little Monitor. 795. 

— miles and fourteen hours of battle and slaughter, 
801. 

— persons present at Mr. Moody's first meeting, 663. 
Fourteen acres of machinery at the centennial, 954. 

— square feet of children's bodies writhing in horror, 
568. 

Fox, the Misses, the original disclosers of " spiritual- 
ism," 473. 

Frame of the Boston organ, unrivaled beauty of the, 
848. 

Franklin, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 783. 
, his movements on the field of battle, 601. 

Franklin's impressive appeal for pacification, 137. 

Frantic conduct of the Austria's passengers, 674. 

Fraser, Gen., his fatal fidelity to duty, 76. 

Fraternization of all sections, July 4, 1876, 968. 

Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, gift from to Gen- 
eral Washington, 179. 

Free soil and free labor, plea for, 617. 

Freedmen's joy at the proclamation of emancipatiou, 
814. 

Fremont's Heroic Expedition to the North- 
west, 402-407. 

(For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page of this 
Event.) 

French passenger on board the Guerriere, 231. 

— physicians' opinions of Senator Sumner's case, 
624. 

— tribute to the character of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, 70. 

Friendliness of French and British for the Alabama, 

856. 
Friendly letter from Pres. Fillmore to the Emperor of 

Japan, 595. 
s between Pres. Buchanan and Queen Victoria, 

756. 

— toasts given by Gen. Washington and Cornwallis at 
the dinner table, 110. 

Frigate Philadelphia, her capture by the pirates. 185; 
burned by Com. Decatur, 186. 

Frightful Catastrophe in a New York Five- 
Story Public School-House CoNTAiNrNG 1,800 Pu- 
pils, 567-574. 

(For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page of this 
Event.) 

From poverty to his millions, 466. 

— State to State in unbroken triumph, Sherman's 
march, 875. 

— the gutter to the rostrum, 397. 

height of national prosperity to universal bank- 
ruptcy, 650. 

prize-ring to the halls of congress, 688. 

Frowning masses of soldiers before Antietam, 799. 
*' Frozen music," the wondrous architecture of the Bos- 
ton organ defined as, 848. 
Fruits of Perry's victory on Lake Erie, 239. 
Frustrating of Burr's conspiracy, 206. 
Full -orbed completeness nf our ceiiturj', 15. 
Fulton-street prayer-meeting. New York, 655. 



084 



ESTDEX. 



Fulton's TRiL'MrnAST Application op Steam to 

Navigatiu.n, i;12-217. 
(^For topical and analytical detaih, seejirst page of this 

frtnt.) 
Funeral cortege through hfteen States, Pres. Lincoln's, 

893. 

— pile, the immense Pemherton Mills*, 726. 
Furious horses made tract.ible by Mr. Rarey, 773. 

— pursuit by Pres. Jacl^son of bis assassin. 338. 

— rush ot 1,800 little ones, 5C8. 

Fury of the tempest in which the Central America was 
lost, nx. 

— , wide-spread and unprecedented, of the Sept, gale, 
270. 



G. 



" Gag Rule," so-called, the, in congress, 363. 

Gala day for riifflaiis and blaoklpgs. CSi. 

on the Princeton changed to one of wailing and 

death, 439. 

Gale, the ever-memorable September in New England, 
264; after the gale, 271. 

Gallows erected at midnight by the vigilance committee, 
551. 
— , Gibbs's address from the, 319. 

Games of cbesSf against fifty players, won by Mr. Hor- 
phy, 668. 

Garcia's discouraging opinion of Jenny Lind's voice, 
542. 

Gardner, the prize-fighter, in the revival, 660. 

Garrett's barn, Booth discovered in, 89.">. 

Garrison, W. L., at Fort Sumter, 885. 

Gas and oil fires in the petroleum regions, 702. 

works in Chicago, explosion of during the fire, 

927. 

Gates's, Gex., Capture of Bcrgoyxe's Splendid 
Army, 72-80. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Gathering of whiskey insurrectionists at Pittsburg, 
Penn., 161. 

Gavel of the confederate congress, HSO. 

Gay streamers and waving Hags all over the land, 000. 

"General Arnold has gone to the enemy,"— Washing- 
ton's announcement of the crime, 102. 

General Jackson's Terrible Rokt and Slaugh- 
ter OF THE BRITISn ARMY, AT NeW ORLEANS, 257- 

263. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

— Pakenham leading his men after he was shot, 261. 

— Koss commands the British army against Washing- 
ton City, 242. 

Genee.\l Scott in the Halls of the Montezumas, 

AS THE CoNQfEKOU OF MEXICO, 487-493. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event.) 
General Walker's Fillibcsterino E.xpeditions 

TO SoNORA, NlCARACt^A, AND HONDURAS. 748-756. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Generalship of Sheridan unsurpassed, 878. 

Genial anecdote and i>leasing memorabilia In this vol* 
unie. It. 

(Jenli of applause and enthusiasm, the, aroused by John 
Qutncy Adams, 371. 

Genius as a commander exhibited by Gen. Sherman, 
868. 
— , poor reward of. in EH Whitney's case, 159. 

Genuflexions practiced by the Japanese officials on ap- 
proaching the President, 735. 



Geographical and nautical results of the South Pole ex- 
pedition, 386. 

— magnitude of our republic, 8. 

Geological characteristics of the petroleum regions, 705. 
Germantown, battle of, 72. 

Germany's congratulations to the republic on its centen- 
nial anniversary. 966. 
Getting the hot-wat«r pipes ready, 742. 
Gettysuurg, Three Days' Battle at, 826-835 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page qfthit 

Event.) 
Gha-^tly horror of the Somers mutiny, 415. 
Gibbons's, Mr., explanation of the great jtanic, C51, 
Gibbs, the pirate, his career, capture and execution, 314. 
Gift present«d by congress to Lafayette, 277. 
Gigantic material enterprises of the United States, 9. 

— preparations for war by the North and South, 771, 
Gilraore, P. S., his vast musical enterprise, 915. 

" Giinblct religion " of the savages, account of the, 389. 
Ginlle of iron around the loins of the continent, 907. 
" Give it to 'em! "—Commodore Hull's final order to his 

crew, 233. 
Giving the last kisses on board the fated Austria, 676. 
word in the duel, 710. 

— up the race in despair. 5G4. 

Glacier of Humboldt visited by Dr. Kane, 536. 
Glasgow and Edinburgh, Union speeches by Mr. Beecher 

at, Bil. 
Glittering corona around the moon during the solar 

eclipse, 197. 
Gloom of the loyal states after the Bull Run defeat, 788. 
Gloomy auspices of the revolutionarj' campaign in 1777, 

72. 
Glory of the American Century, 7. 
Gloucester Bay, sea-serpent seen at, 577. 
Glowing beauty of the great meteoric shower, 329. 

— magniticence of tlie tirmamcnt. Nov. 13, 18.">7, 382. 

" God Save the Queen." played at the Prince of Wales's 

visit, 761. 
Goddard, Arabella, her marvelous musical powers, 923. 
Going down with her flag still flying, the Cumberland, 

791. 

— up the harbor of Cork, U. S. Ship Jamestown, 483. 
Gold, first discovery of, in California, 500. 

— medal presented by congress to Gen. Gates, 80. 
Golden age of American oratory, 297. 

— Commonwealth of the American Union, 507. 

— results of Whitney's cotton-gin invention, 158. 
Goldsborough, Coinnmdore, his opinion ot Farragut's 

feat, 802. 
Good Templars, gathering of, at the centennial, 955. 

— work done by Washington at Yorktown, 107. 
Gory deck of Gibbs's piratical craft, 317. 

Gough, John B.. hisoratory in behalf of temperance, 398. 

Graham's eloquent plea for Bishop Onderdonk, 4W. 

Grain and cotton products, grangers' system of manag- 
ing, 943. 

Grand Army of the Republic, meeting of, at the centen- 
nial, 955. 

— dinner given by Washington to Comwallis, 110. 
Grand Embassy from the Empihe of Japan, with 

a Treaty ok Peace and Commehce, 732-739. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Grand March of the Union Army, under Gen. 

.■^herman, through the south, 868-876. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page q/" this 

Event.) 
Grandeur of the centennial celebration, 960. 
Granger movement, commencement of the, 938. 
Granite warehouses in Boston destroyed like lead in the 

great fire, 932. 
Grant, General, his siege and capture of Yicksburg, 817. 



INDEX. 



985 



Grappling with the monster Merrimac, the little Moni- 
tor, 793. 

Grave-yard scenes at the height of the " plague " visita- 
tion, 521. 

Graves and Cilley, their duel, 283. 

■'Great Eastern," arrival and exhibition of the steam- 
ship, 748. 

Greatest conquest of intellectual over Inanimate matter, 
746- 

Greatest Defeat a>'d Victory of American Arms 
IN THE Indian Wars, 146-152. 

{For topical and analytical delails, see Jirst page of this 
Erent.) 

Greatest railroad route on the face of the earth, 914. 

Greenland, explorers* experiences in, 535. 

Greene's, Mrs., timely suggestion to Kli Whitney, 154. 

Greeting Macready, the actor, with groans, hisses, and 
missiles, 509. 

— Seolt's order with a quiclt-step, 490. 
— s, LafayetteV, with old comrades, 280. 

Grief at Alexander Hamilton's death, 195. 

— in America at the news of Lafayette's death, 281. 
Grim old Merrimac, Buchanan's, 866. 

Grinnell expeditions lo the Arctic seas, 533. 
Grog for Jack before the battle. 866. 
Growth of ocean steam transit, 742. 

the order of grangers in five years, 939. 

Gulfs and chasms spanned in constructing the Pacific 

railroad. 909. 
Gunnery of the Kearsaige compared with the Alabama's, 

€56. 



H. 



Habits of Gen. Jackson in war, 260. 

Haj^erstown, Md., Lee's troops' arrival at, on ttieir north- 
ward niarcli, 826. 

'■ Hail Columbia," sung by Jenny Lind and Daniel Web- 
ster, 5-15. 

Hailing Morrissey as the pugilistic Champion of Amer- 
ica, 680. 

Hair-breadth escapes at the Pemberton Mills catastro- 
phe, 726. 

Half a month's earnings to hear Jenny Lind sing, 547. 

century anniversary and celebration throughout the 

country, 291. 

— an hour with the terrible horse known as "Cruiser," 
774. 

Hall of the U. S. senate, appearance of, during Mr. 

Webster's speech. 302. 
Halo, or corona, during the solar eclipse, 200. 
Halt made by Cornwallis, at Yorktown, 105. 
Hamilton's fatal duel with Burr, 189. 

— plan for locating the national capital, 169. 
of government for the U. S., 136. 

Hammer of pure silver employed in completing the 
Pacific railroad, 912. 

Hammond, E. P., the revival preacher, 6.57. 

Hampton Roads, memorable combat in the, 79.3. 

Hancock, John, his remarkable signature to the Declar- 
ation of Independence. 71. 

Hand to-hand conflict, 831. 

Handcuffs rs. champagne, 749. 

Hanging of Spencer and his comrades, 422. 

— the telegraph wires, 345. 

"— together or separately," Franklin's remark to his 
colleagues, 295. 
Happy conversation between Prof. Morse and Miss 
Ellsworth, 350. 

— frame of mind during his last day, Pres. Lincoln's, 
888. 

— unconsciousness during surgical operations, 460. 



Harmer's expedition against the Indians, failure of, 

147. 
Harmonies and wondrous beauty of the Boston organ, 

847. 
Harold, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 898. 
Harrison's defeat of Tecumseh, 152. 

— victory of the Thames, 241. 

Harrowing experiences of the Central America's pas- 
sengers, 638. 

Hartford and Tennessee, battle between the, 863; dis- 
comfiture of the latter, 866. 

Hartstene, Capt., sent to Dr. Kane's relief, 538. 

Harvests reaped by outlaws in California, in its earlier 
days, 550. 

Hasty removal of the confederate archives from Kich- 
mi..nd, 884. 

Having a shot at the sea-serpent, 577, 

Hawkins, the Baltimore temperance reformer, 395. 

Hawley, Gen. J. K., head of the centennial exposition, 
952. 

Hayes, Dr. Isaac J., his heroic explorations in the Arc- 
tic regions, 539. 

Hayne, Robert Y., his great debate with Daniel Web- 
ster, 297. 

" He is gone ; he is dead ! " Pres. Lincoln's death an- 
nounced by his physician, 892. 

Head of the sea-serpent, remarkable appearance of the, 
581. 

Headlong descent of hundreds of children down the 
school-house stairs, 568. 

— velocity of navigation required on the Jordan, 495. 
Healey's commemoration of the " Great Debate," 298. 
Heart's Content, arrival of the Atlantic cable at, 904. 
Heat of the falling meteors of Nov., 1833, 332. 
Heaven-wide auroral radiance, 380. 

Heavy cost of the Union triumph, 878. 

Heenan, John C, his prize-fight with Morrissey, 681. 

Hegira of women and children during the Chicago fire, 
926. 

Height of city stores preventing their preservation, 
933. 

Heintzelman's division. Gen., at Bull Bun, 788. 

Heir to the British throne, his tour in the United States, 
758. 

Help for Chicago poured forth from the whole land, 
929. 

Helping a brave man without pay, 246. 

Helpless agony of hundreds of children, 568. 

Henry, Patrick, his eloquentsummons, ' We must fight! ' 
66. 

" Her name is not there ! "—reading the list of the dead, 
729. 

Herculean prowess of Morrissey and Heenan, the pugil- 
ists, 684. 

Herndon, Captain, his bravery in the hour of peril, 635. 

Heroes of antiquity and Gen. Jackson, comparison be- 
tween the, 258. 

— quailing at the surgeon's knife, 456. 

Hideous mutilation of the Pemberton Mills victims. 

Hiding himself from himself. Gibbs's attempts at, 319. 

place, the assassin Booth's, 894. 

"High Church" and "Low Church," 455. 

— social position of Dr. Parkman and Webster his 
murderer, 523. 

Highway from the gates of the East to sunset itself, 
914. 

Hippodrome meetings in New York, Moody and San- 
key's, 664. 

" His blood was up! " 251. 

— wits saved him, 805. 

Historic actors as well as deeds described in this volume, 
12. 



986 



INDEX. 



Historic scene in the heart of America, wonderfol, 
910. 

History lllostrating itself by example, 10. 

Hoarse roar of the flanie^ in the Boston fire, d32. 

Hoisting the first American naval flag, 82. 

"Hold the Fort!" Ull. 

Holding the disputed ground, 803. 
dying president's hand in his own, Senator Sum- 
ner, 891. 
hill at Antietam, Bumside's feat of, SOI. 

Holland acknowledges the independence of America, 
71. 

Holmes. Dr. O. W., his tribute to the wonders ot etheriz- 
ation. 4.=;8. 

Holy land localities, American interest in the, 49*. 

Homicide of Hon. Philip Bakton Key by Ho!.". 
Daniel E. Sickles, M. C, is Washington, D. C, 
689-C97. 

[for topical and analytical details, see firtt page qf this 

EVf7tt.) 

Honduras, fatal result of Walker's fiUibustering expedi- 
tion at, 75:J. 

Honeymoon in another world, spending the, 520. 

Hong Kong. China, via Chicago, 913. 

Hood's fatal movement in favor of Sherman, 864. 

Hooker leading the advance of the grand army, 798; is 
shot and disabled, 798. 

Hope of transferring the operations of the war to the 
North, Gen. Lee's, 826. 

Hopeless resistance by Lee to Grant's army, 881. 

Horizontal movement of the San Francisco earthquake, 
224. 

Horological wonders of the electric telegraph cable, 
905. 

Horrible and MvsTERiors Mi-rder of Db. Bcjr- 
DELL, A Wealthy New York Dentist, 6.0-634. 

(For topical and analytical details, see jirst page qf this 
Event.) 

Horse-taming feats by Mr. Rarey of Ohio, 772. 

Horsesh(>e Bend, battle with the Indians at, 152. 

Horticultural exhibition at the centennial, 957. 

Hospital scenes at Gettysburg, 829 

— use of etherization, 462. 
Hospitalities, national, to Lafayette, 276. 
Hostile meeting between Clay and Kandolph, 285. 
Hot and suffocating air during the Sept. gale, 266. 

— chain, a, in a bucket of tar. 674. 

blooded assailants of John Quincy Adams, 367. 

Hotels, churches and theateis, in ashes, by the Chicago 

fire, 925. 
*' Hounds," the organized society of, in California, 550. 
How sillier became a Second Advent preacher, 433. 

— Fres. Lincoln passed his last day, 888. 

— spiritualism originated, 473. 

— things appeared during the "Dark Day," 95. 

— the fought at Bull Run, 782. 

Howard, Gen., commanding in Sherman's army, 871. 

Howe, Elias, .Jr., his wonderful inventive genius, 464. 

Hughes, Ball, his statue of Hamilton, 360. 

Hull. Captain, his eager acceptance of Capt. Dacres's 
challenge, 228. 

Human enterprises, the grandest, 904. 

Humanity and science, memorable co-operation of, 
635. 

Humboldt's tribute of admiration to American explor- 
ers, 402. 

Humiliation of King George in parliament, 121. 
the Emperor of Morocco by America, 185. 

Humor, good, of John Paul Jones, towards his enemy, 
85. 

Humorous side of the electric telegraph, 351. 

— treatment of his country's enemies In England, 
Beecher's, 841. 



Hundreds of families in mourning for the early dead, 

574. 

millions' value lost in the Chicago fire. 929. 

Hung near the spot of hisbinh. Prof. Wcl»ler. 530. 
Hungarian cause, Kossuth's advocacy of in America, 

690. 
Hont, Waller, his prior invention of the sewing-machine, 

467. 
Hunter's division. Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 

781. 
Hunting excursions at the west by the Prince of Wales, 

758. 
" Hurrah for the flag! " shout of a Union sailor who had 

lost both arms and legs, 791. 
Hurrying through the streets with their ledgers, Boston 

merchants during the fire, 333. 
Husbands fleeing from wives during the epidemic, 

517. 
Hydesville, N. Y., singular and humble origin of the 

spiritual knockiligs at, 472. 
Hymn for the centennial iuauguration by J. G. Whittier, 

952. 
Hypotheses of the Not. meteoric shower, 333. 



" I am shot ! "— Cilley's exclamation at the third flre, 
713. 

" I must have another shot! " — Graves's remark at the 
duel, 712. 

" 1 will never leave the ship! "—636. 

Ice-bound continent, hitherto unknown, reached by the 
U. S. explorers, 389. 

Idolized in Washington society. Mrs. Sickles, 693. 

" If the bridge is lost all is lost! " 803. 

Ignoble origin of the great Chicago conflagration, 
24. 

Ill-starred career of pirate Gibbs, 316. 

Illegality of their acts acknowledged by the vigilance 
committee, 557. 

Illustrious men in the convention for framing the Fed- 
eral Constitution, 13-'i. 

— virtues of Gen. Washington, tribuies to the, 179. 
Imbedded in ice for successive months, 534. 
Imitation amoni< children in a scene of panic, 571. 
Immediate cause of the great religious revival. 654. 
Immortality guaranteed to Rarey in England if success- 
ful in taming "Cruiser," 773. 

Impatience of the Constitution's crew to commence the 
flght, 232. 
North for a movement on Richmond, 780. 

Imperishable honors crowning Sherman's name, 868. 

Iinpetuous desire to advance on the North, Lee's troops*, 
826. 

Impetuosity of Wayne's troops, 151. 

Impetus given to commerce by the California gold dis- 
coveries. 507. 

Imiiortant question and answer in Prof. Morse's career, 
316. 

Imposing coup d'aeil at the White House, 445. 

— magniflcence of Kossuth's reception in the U. S., 
587. 

Imposition of $.100 fine on Mr. Brooks for his assault on 
Senator Sumner. 623- 

Impostors in the religious world, 436. 

Impotency of human effort in staying the Chicago fire, 
925. 

Impressions produced by the Boston musical celebra- 
tion. 918 
on Washington by Lafayette. 274. 



INDEX. 



987 



Impressive appearance of "Washington on resigning his 
commission as commander-in-chief, 117. 

Imprisonment of Jefferson Davis in Fortress Monroe, 
884. 

Impromptu prayer-meetings during the meteoric show- 
er, 330. 

Improprieties with INIrs. Tilton denied by Mr. Beecher, 
949. 

Improvements in telegraphing made by different invent- 
ors, 351. 

In his coffin, the seducer, 694. 

— the hottest and thickest of the fight, 489. 
Inappreciable but momentous point of time, 444, 
Inauguration of Washington, as first president of the 

U. S., 139. 
Incalculable wealth of our natural resources, 9. 
Incidents of the total s Oar fclipse, 203. 
Incomparable dignity and grace of Kossuth, 590. 

— organ erected in Boston music hall, 844. 
Incredulity excited by Fulton's attempts at steam-nav- 
igation, 2i:>. 

Indebtedness to French aid at Yorktown, Washington's 

acknowledgment of, 110. 
"Independence Forever," John Adams's toast for the 

nation's half-centennial, 295. 

— of the Republic, fiftieth anniversary and celebra- 
tion of, 291. 

Indescribable joy at the North over the Gettysburg vic- 
tory, 834. 

— rapidity and force of the wind during the September 
gale, 265. 

" Indestructible" storehouses crumble like chalk in the 
great Boston tire, 932. 

Indian defeat, 151 ; and victory, 148. 

Indications of the approach of the San Francisco earth- 
quake, 224. 

Indictments against the assassination conspirators, 
897. 

Indigence of Eli Whitney's early condition, 154. 

Indignation of Washington at the proposal to make h<m 

king, llo. 
— , public, at Hamilton's fate, 195. 

Individual instances of bravery at Gettysburg, 834, 

— losses, immense, in the great N. Y. fire, 357. 

— vs associated efforts, grangers' view of, 943. 
Industry at the South, impetus given to, by the cotton- 
gin, 159. 

— of All Nations, exhibition of, at London— grand 
finale, 558. 

Ineffectual resistance to Brooks attempted by Sumner, 
019. 

Inexhaustible deposits of precious metal in California, 
506. 

Inexplicable character of the manifestations known as 
"spiritual," 475. 

Infamy of Admiral Cockburn at Washington, 247. 

Inglorious flight at Rivas, 749. 

Inhalation of ether, discovery of, as a preventive of pain, 
456 

Initiating the grangers' organization, 9.39. 

Initiation of a plan of government for the U. S., 133. 

Inscription of the Penn. Bible .Society at the centen- 
nial, 958. 

— on the corner-stone of the national capltol, 171; 
and on the corner-stone of the extension, 173. 

Liberty B«ll, in Independence Hall, 07. 

Inserting the most, important word in the emancipation 

proclamation, 809. 
Inspecting the horrors of the Irish famine, 485. 
Inspection of the victorious yacht America by the Queen 

and Prince Albert. 565. 
Instant and awful death of Secretary Gilmer, 441. 

— stunning of Senator Sumner by Brooks's cane, 020. 



Instant summons, trial, and hanging, by the vigilance 

committee, 554. 
Insurrection, whiskey, in Pennsylvania, 160. 
Intellectual range exhibited by Daniel Webster, 299. 
Intemperate debates in congress, 369. 
Intended breakfast at Arnold's, by Washington, 101. 

— conversion of tlie U. S, Brig Somers into a pirate, 
416. 

Intention of Shays's followers to seize Boston, 129. 

Intercourse claimed to be opened between human and 
disembodied spirits, 472. 

Interest of foreign countries in the Industrial Exhibi- 
tion, 601. 

other nations excited by the treaty between the 

U. S. and Japan, 739. 

Interior of Fort Sumter after the bombardment, 770. 

International regatta, the yacht America triumphant in 
the, 558. 

Interposition, Col. Benton's, in the Clay and Randolph 
duel, 287. 

— of America in Kossuth's behalf, 586, 
Interpretation of the language of the spirit world, 473. 
Interview between Aaron Burr and his pursuers, 208. 

Consul Harris and the Emperor nf Japan, 599. ■ 

Gen. Gates and Gen. Burgoyne. 78. 

— — Gen. Washington and Lafayette, 274. 
Generals Grant and Lee, 882. 

Gens Grant and Pemberton, 821. 

Jenny Lind and Mr. Barnura, first, 545. 

John Adams and King George, 121. 

. John Paul Jones and his antagonist Commodore 

Pearson, 85. 

Lafayette and "Red Jacket," 280. 

Mr. Beecher and Mr. Tilton, 946. 

Pres. Grant and the Emperor of Brazil, 952. 

Pres. Lincoln and Gen. Grant, 888. 

■ Pres. Lincoln and Sec. Stanton, memorable, 882. 

the assassin Booth and his captors, 895. 

Prince of Wales and a Bunker Hill veteran, 

762. 

Washington and Mrs. Arnold, 102. 

Webster and Hayne, after the debate, 304, 

Intrigue and infamy in fashionable life, 627, 
Introducing Kossuth to congress, 589. 
Introduction of Lafayette to Gen. Washington, 274. 
Invasion of Mexico by the U. S. forces, 4H8. 

the North determined on by Gen. Lee. 826. 

Invention of that Wondrous Piece of Mechan- 

is.M, THE Sewing Machine, 464-471. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

the cotton-gin by Eli Whitney, 153. 

Electric Telegraph. 345. 

Invitation to Kossuth to come to America, 586. 

Lafayette to become one of Washington's mili- 
tary family, 274. 
Inviting Gen. Grant to a peace interview. Gen. Lee, 

881. 
Involuntary exclamations of wonder during the total 

eclipse, 198. 
Ireland's appeal borne across the Atlantic, 481. 
Irish harps and American eagles, 486. 
Iron and coal display at the centennial, 958. 

— — stone no barriers to the Boston tire, 932. 

clada Merrimac and Monitor, combat between the, 

789. 

— -hearted, but in tears, 209. 

— roofing and plating the Merrimac, 790. 

— span across the wide continent, 911. 
Irregularities of Miller's followers reproved by him, 

437. 
Irrepressible emotions excited by Mr. Webster's oratory, 
302. 



988 



INDEX. 



Irresistible pressure of gentleness on horses, Mr. 

Uare> 's, 779. 
Irritation between Jlexieo and the U. S. leading to war, 

487. 
Irwinsville, Ga., capture of Jeff. Davis at, 884. 
Isle of Wight, scene of the international regatta, 560. 
Issues involved la the triumph of Gen. Grant at llich- 

mond, 877. 



Jackson, Dr.. his claim to the ether discovery, 463. 

— , General, his terrible rout and slaughter of the Brit- 
ish at New Orleans, 2")7. 

— , Gen. "Stonewall," at Antielam, 799. 

— , President, bis proclamation against nullification, 
323. 

, scheme of Lawrence to kill, 337. 

James, army of the, reunion of, at the centennial, 955. 

Jamestown, voyafie of the ship, 483. 

Japan, nav.al expedition to, 592. 

Japanese Embassy to the U. S. government in 1860, 
732. 

Java, frigate, Bainbridge's capture of the, 231. 

J.ayne's Hall, Phila., during the religious revival, G55. 

Jealousy in congress, on selecting a general for the rev- 
olutionary army, 112. 

Jefferson, Thoinais, a sketch of his career, 295. 

, his account of the final compact for locating the 

national capital, 168. 

, his authorship of the Declaration of Independ- 
ence. 292. 

, his death on the 50th anniversary of American 

independence, 291. 

.I,\vctt, Helen, murder of, in New York, 633. 

Jewish appreciation of Moody and Sankey's labors, 
60.'. 

Jocular remark of Pres. Lincoln about being shot, 
889. 

John Brown's Captire of Harpeb's Feeby, Va., 
715-722. 

(For topical and analytical details, aa first page nfthia 
Event.) 

John-street prayer-meeting. New York, 6.55. 

Johnston, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 787. 

Jones, John Paul, his capture of the British ship Sera- 
pis, 81. 

Jordan's banks described by the explorers, 495. 

Journeying around the world made easy by the Pacific 
railroad, 914. 

Joy, national, at the result of the convention for fram- 
ing the Federal Constitution, 138. 
— occasioned after the " Dark Day" was over, 96. 

Jubilatioit at the South at the Bull Run vicloiy, 788. 

Jubilee in Boston in honor of the return of peace, 915. 

Judgment Day supposed to have come, 89. 

July 4, 1776, 05; July 4, 1R7C, 951. 

Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, 914. 

Jury, address by Prof. Webster to the, 528. 

Jurymen oongratulaliiiK Mr. Sickles, ^'>'^\}. 

Justice administered in San Francisco b; th« vigllauce 
committee, 650. 



K 

Kalakaua, King, tour of, in the United States, 934. 
Kane, Dr. K. K., liU expedition to the polar seas, 5^. 
Kansas, debate on, in the U. S. senate, G17. 



Koarsargo and Alabama, battle between the, &51. 
Keeping at bay the whole Uuiou fleet, the ram Tennes- 
see. S63. 

— his plan of blood in his razor-case, 417. 

— the California gold-discoveiy a secret, EOS. 
Keim's brilliant narrative of operations at Vlcksburg, 

819. 

Kelly, O. H., one of the founders of the grange move- 
ment, 93S. 

Key, Francis, his composition of "The Star Spangled 

Banner," 'J49. 
— , Pliilip Barton, homicide of, by^Hon. Daniel E. 
Sickles, 089. 

— to Mexico held by the Americans, 490. 
Keyes's brigade, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 783. 
Kilpatrick'a. Gun., battle-flag at Gettysburg, 833. 

— leading the cavalry, 871. 

Kinds of phenomena included in " spiritualism," 476. 
King Charles's charter for Rhode Island, dissatisfaction 
with, 408. 

— Freilerick "WillLim's opinion of Fremont*8 explora- 
tions, 402. 

— George's conversation with John Adams, 123. 
speech on acknowledging American independ- 
ence, 121. 

statue destroyed in Xew York, C^. 

— , Samuel W., his defeat of Thomas W. Dorr, 412. 
Kingly ceremony in parliament on acknowledging 

American independence, 120. 
"Kingly pastime,'* Mr. Jlorphy's opinion of chess 

C70. 
Kirk. Edward N., the revival preacher, 657. 
Kissing the corpse of Dr. Burdell by his alleged mur- 
deress. G28. 
Kit Carson, the intrepid adventurer, 403. 
Knapp, Jacob, the revival preacher, G57. 
Knell of Iho lawless in California, 551. 
Knighthood conferred upon a defeated officer, 85. 
Knights of Pytliias, parade of at the centennial, 955. 
Knowledge of the rock-oil sources in olden times, 099. 
Kossuth, Gov., arrival of, as guest of the nation, 5«7. 



Laconic message of McDonough announcing his victory, 

250. 
Ladies, enthusiasm of the, towards Gen. 'Wa:>hlngton, 

142. 
— ' sanilarj- fair at Chicago, Pres. Lincoln's gift to, 815. 
Lady spectators of the Princeton tragedy, 442. 
Lafayette's brilliant services at Yorktown. 10,"i. 

— vi.-iitlo America, as the guest of the itepublic, 272- 
281. 

Lake Champlain, McDonoiigirs victory on, 250. 

— Erie, Perrj-'s victory on, 234. 

Lakes and swamps formed by the western earthquake, 

22:{. 
Land speculators swarming the west, 615. 
Landing of I^fayelto at New York. 275. 
Landmarks saved from the tire in Boston, 9.13. 
Larjngitis, the disease of which Wa>iliinglon died, 178. 
Lashed to the mast in Mobile Bay, Farragut, 8(;G. 
Lashing the flag to the mast-head during battle, 230. 
Last hours and words of Gen. Washington, 177. 

— war-flag of America in British walere, 482. 
Lattcr-Day saints, 306. 

Laudanum soup for savages, Dr. Hayes's timely use of, 

MO. 
Laudation of Lafayette, all over th9 land, 276. 



INDEX, 



989 



Laughing a congressional resolution out of existence, 

36G. 
Launched from the gallows by pairs, 557. 
Laurels crowning the head of the conqueror of peace, 

885. 

— won by Karey from monarchs and princes, TT2. 
Lavish and magnificent hospitalities to the Japanese 

officials, 739. 

Law of nations expounded by Kossuth, 590. 

Lawless classes terrified by the action of the vigilance 
committee, 555. 

Lawrence, Mass., tragedy of the Pemberton Mills in, 
723. 

— , Richard, his plan to shoot Pres. Jackson, 337 ; his 
insanity, 340. 

Laying aside all etiquette, royal visitors at Rarey's per- 
formances, 777. 

— of the telegraph cable across the Atlantic ocean, 
899. 

— the corner-stone of the national capitol, 171. 
keel of the first Atlantic steamship. 742. 

Leading nullifiers threatened with the g^illows, 327. 
Lear, Col., his account of Washington's wrath, 150, 
ijcaving her rivals, one by one, 504. 

— the White House for the theater, Pres. Lincoln, 
889. 

Lee. Gen. Henry, subdues the Penn. whiskey insurrec- 
tion, IGG. 

Lee's, Gen. R. E., great army surrenders to Gen. Grant, 
883. 
great military object, 798. 

Legions of Union soldiers besieging Richmond, 877. 

Legislation by congress for celebrating the centennial, 
952. 

Leisurely movements of the yacht America when start- 
ing on the race, 501. 

Length of the Great Eastern, 680 feet, 7-13, 
— Pea-serpent, 578. 

Lesson taught by the exhibition of the industry of all 
nations, 007. 
the North by the Bull Run defeat, 788. 

*'Let the Bright Seraphim," sung by Parepa-Rosa be- 
fore Pres. Grant, 919. 

Letter from King Get)rge on the Yorktown catastrophe, 
109. 

— in a gold**n box from Pres. Fillmore to the Emperor 
of Japan, 592. 

— , last, written by Washington, 175. 

— of friendship from Emperor William to the United 
States, 900. 

— received by Arnold showing his detection, 101. 
Levee at the Wliite House, Jackson's, after the Webster 

and Hayne debate, 30-1. 
'* Leviathan," the sea-serpent supposed to be the, 578. 
Liberation of slaves, John Brown's plan for the, 715. 
" Liberty and no Excise," motto of the Penn. whiskey 

insurrectionists, 161. 

— for Kansas, Sumner's speech on, 617. 
Life among the gold-diggers, 500. 

— or death depending on a single word, 528. 
Lightning rapidity of the flames at the Chicago fire, 

925. 
Lights and shades of tone marvelously combined in the 

Boston organ, 848. 
Lincoln, Abraham, his call for 75,000 men, 771. 

, Abraham, his election as president, 704. 
— , Abraham, his proclamation of emancipation, 807. 
— , Abraham, his visit to Richmond, 883. 
— , Abraham, is assassinated at Ford's theater, Wash- 
ington, by J. W. Booth, 887. 
— , Abraham, obsequies and sepulture, 894. 
— , Gen., dispersion of Shays's followers in Massachu- 
setts by, 130. 



Lincoln, Gen., successes at Forts Edward, Anne, George, 

etc., 75. 
Lind, Jenny, her great musical tour in the United 

States, 541. 
Line of battle formed on Lake Champlain, 253. 

electric telegraph, the first, 348. 

Lines of Lee's army fatally broken into, 879; his retre:i 

881 ; capitulation, 882. 
LinniEan Society's report on the sea-serpent. 581. 
Liun-like energy of Pres. Jackson on being shot at, 

338. 
Liquid treasures spouting forth from the earth, 698. 
Lisbon, celebration of the American centennial at, 

f)05. 
List of the dead and wounded, reading the. 729. 
'■ Little Turtle," his defeat of St. Clair, Iju. 
Liverpool, Eng., Beecher overcoming the yelling mob 

at, 838. 
Livingston's aid to Fulton, 213. 
Lizzie among the awful ruins, 729. 
Localities unrecognized after the earthquake, 221. 
Locked in-doors during the raging fire, 935. 
London, celebration of the American centennial at, 

— heraldry office visited by John Randolph, 289. 
Long Island, battle of, 114. 

Longest and most bitter cas-e in judicial annals, 945. 
Longfellow's mansion in Cambridge, formerly Washing- 
ton's head-quarters, 114. 
Long's Peak, in the Rocky Mountains, 403. 
Longstreet, Gen., at the battle of Aiitietam, 799. 
" Look on this picture— and on ibis," 10. 
Looking over the Southern map, Sherman, 870. 

— the Tycoon in the face, 599. 

Loomis, Prof., his astronomical observations, 383. 

Lord Chatham's death, after his 'passionate speech 

against the American colonies, 70. 
Losing his whole family and noble ship at the same 

time, 015. 
Loss OF THE Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic, 

OF New York, by Collision with the Iron 

Steamer Vesta, 608-015. 
{For topical and analytical details^ see first page of this 

Event.) 
Losses of the two armies in the battle of Bull Run, 780. 
" Lots " in western cities, 645. 

Louisiana, intended invasion of by the British, 258. 
Love's last embrace on the Austria, 076. 
Lowentbal's game of che.'^s with Paul Morphy. 006. 
Lowering her colors to Her JIajesty, during the height of 

the race, 505. 
Luminous train of 108,000,000 miles to the comet, 425. 
Luster reflected on American industry, 607. 
Lustrous grandeur of the aurora borealis. 381. 
Lyell, Professor, his account of the western earthquake, 

222. 

_^ „, _ opinion of the sea-serpent, 578. 
— 's travels among the Second Adventists, 436. 
Lying in state, Senator Broderick, 711. 
"Lynch-law," healthy operations of, 550. 
Lynch's expedition to the Orient, 4M. 



M. 



Macaulay's, Lord, tribute to the value of Whitney's cot- 
ton-gin, 153. 

" Macbeth and Banquo " in a changed scene, 509. 

Macedonian, frigate, capture of the, by Decatur, 231. 

Machinery building at the centennial exhibition, 955. 

Mackenzie, Capt. A. S., his dealing with the mutineers, 
417. 



990 



INDEX. 



Hacon. Qa., eurrender of Gen. Cobb at, 885. 

Macready, \V. C., the English tragedian, mobbed In 
New York, 512. 

Maddened sea of insult at Liverpool, Mr. Beecber stems 
a. 8^58. 

Madman*s attempt on Pres. Jackson's life, 337. 

Matlit, Jobn N.. the revival preacher, 6o7. 

Magnanimity of Jackson in the flush of triumph, 263. 

Magnates in state and church doing honor to Jenny 
Lind, 546. 

Magnetism of Rarey's presence among horses, 770. 

Magiiitieence of the international exposition at Phila- 
delphia, 900. 

Magnificent Ackora Borealis Encompassing the 
Whole Firmament to its Farthest Bounds, 379- 
385. 

CFor topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Magnitude and hazard of Pakenbam's campaign, 263. 

Mail-wagons for Cliina on the Pacific railroad, 913. 

Main point of the America's superiority over ber com- 
petitors, 506. 

Majestic drama of our century's events. 8. 

— oaks twisteil into shreds by the terrible gale, 267. 

— organ erected in Boston music hall, 844. 

Makes bis final confession as the munlerer of Parkman, 
630. 

Making for her antagonist at full speed, the ram Ten- 
nessee, 863. 

— known the result of Grant and Lee's interview, 
883. 

Male and female, in youth and beauty, buried in the 
Pcmberton Mills ruins, 7-4. 

Malignant epidemics, the tender passion still alive dur- 
ing, 520. 

Mammoth steamship Great Eastern in New York harbor, 
748. 

Managing hia mob audiences in England, Mr. Beecher's 
tact in, 843. 

Manassas, or Bull Run, battle of, 780. 

Manchester, England, attempts to silence Mr. Beecber 
in. 837. 

Mania for land investments, 645. 
piracy, Spencer's, 420. 

" Manifest destiny " of the United States, illustration o4 
the, 907. 

Mann, lion. Horace, 372. 

Mansard roofs the cause of the great Boston fire, 
932. 

Slansfield. Gen., his lamented death in the midst of 
battle, 799. 

Mansion, presidential, its condition when first occupied, 
170. 

Manuscript of the emancipation proclamation, Mr. Lin- 
coln's, 815. 

Marble column erected at Torktown, Ya., by congress, 
110. 

March to the sea, Sherman's, 868. 

— upon Baltimore, by the British, 249. 

— 's account of Mr. Webster's great speech, 299. 
** Maria," the name of (iibbs's piratical craft, 316. 
aiarie Antoinette, Queen of France, gift from, to Gen. 

Washington, 179. 
Marine disaster neVer before equaled in American 

waters, 6.W. 

— monster, the sea-ser|M;nt or the, 575. 

.Marital reconciliation between Mr. and Mrs. Sickles, 

696. 
Marking the distance for the duel, 708. 
Marshall, James W., his discovery of gold in California, 

5(M. 
Martyred president, the, 889. 
Marj'land entered by Qen. Lee's forces, 799. 



Masonic ceremonies at tbe laying of the capitol comer- 
stone, at Wa-hington, 171. 

Massacliusetis. Sbays's rebellion in, 125. 

Massing of opposing armies at Washington and Rich- 
mond. 780. 

Maiiterpiece of musical art in America, 848. 

Mastodon, gigantic, brought to view by the western 
earthquake. 221. 

Matched against all the chess celebrities of Europe, 
007. 

Matliew. Father, his visit to this country, 396. 

Mauna-Loa, explorers on the summit of, 392. 

McClellan, Gen , in command at Antiotam, 798. 

McCrea, Miss, murder of. at Fort Edward, 73. 

McDoNouGB's Naval Victory OK Lake Champlain, 

250-256. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
Erent.) 

McDowell, Gen., commands the army at Bull Run, 787; 
commencement of his march. 781 ; a lost battle, 783. 

McDuttie, Senator, his advocacy of nullification, 320. 

Melyean's farm, first and last battle in the rebellion 
f.mght on, 883. 

MePherson, Gen., formal surrender of Vicksburg re- 
ceived by, 823. 

Meade, Gen., in command at Gettysburg; his defeat of 
the confederate hosts, 832. 

Means of escape, Ingenious, from the earthquake at the 
west, 222. 

Measures for subduing the Penn. whiskey insurrection, 
104. 

Mechanism of Whitney's cotton-gin, 167. 

Medals of gold presented to the Japanese ambassadors 
by Pres. Buchanan, 739. 

^lediation by means of champagne, 5&4. 

Medical college, Boston, scene of Dr. Parkman's mur- 
der, 525. 

— men exultant over the discovery of ether, 457. 

— treatment of Senator Sumner in Paris, 624. 
" Mediums " in spiritual intercourse, 475. 

Meeting of the Massachusetts insurgents in Shays's re- 
bellion, 129. 

— Somers mutineers on their way to be bung, 

421. 

Melancholy celebrity of the Onderdonk case, 449. 

Melodies of America and Ireland, singing the, 484. 

Melting of iron and granite structures in the Chicago 
fire, 927. 

Members of the convention for framing the Federal 
Constitution, appearance of tbe, 133. 

Alementos of the Japanese visitors, eagerness to ob- 
tain. 737. 

Memorial from slaves to congress, ,365. 

Memory and modesty, Morpby's wonderful, 607. 

Menaces or blandishments spumed by John Qulncy 
Adams, 803. 

"Mending tlie still," Penn. Insurrectionists' motto, 
162. 

" Mental reservations" not now in order. 327. 

Merchants' Exchange building, N. Y., the burning of, 
3.M. 

Merciless ridicule of the electric telegraph idea, 348. 

Mercury and whiskey frozen solid, 536. 

Merrimac. havoc done by the iron-clad monster, 790; 
her histor>', 789; her discomfiture, 795. 

Message from heaven, reputed sent to Joseph Smith, 
307. 

— between the President and Queen inaugurating the 
Atlantic telegraph cable, 904. 

— to his parents, Spencer, the pirate's, 420. 
Meteoric shower all over the United States, 329. 
Meteors, 240,000, visible at Boston, Nov. 30, 1833, 330. 
Method of expunging a vote of censure, 378. 



INDEX. 



991 



Miami, Indian battle on the banks of the, 150. 
Microcosm of art and science at Philadelphia, 952. 
Middlemen in trade, objection of grangers to, 939. 
Midnight scenes of terror io Chicago during the fire, 

926. 
Mid-ocean collision, at noonday, of the Arctic and Vesta, 

610. 

— union of the telegraphic cables, 903. 
Midshipman Spencer's scheme of piracy, 415. 

Mifflin, Gov., of Pennsylvania, his efforts to suppress the 

whiskey insurrection, 165. 
Mightiest work of utility ever achieved by man, 910. 
Miles's division, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 781. 
"Military glory," Andre's expected reward of, 100. 
Militiamen meeting Major Andre, 98. 
Miller's exciting prediction of the second advent of 

Christ, 431. 
Millions of faces viewing the eclipse, 203. 

money made by a flash upon his mind, 469. 

treasure sink with the Central America, 635. 

Mine, terrible disaster at the Avondale, 731. 
Mining operations in the American El Dorado, 507. 
Minister Plenipotentiary, first, from the young Republic 

to England, 119. 
Minnesota, fight between the Merrimac and the, 793. 
Minute guns and tolUng bells for the Princeton tragedy, 

445. 
Miscalculations made by Comwallis at Yorktown, 105. 
Misery of the Irish during the famine, 479. 
Misinterpretation of prophetic texts, 435. 
Mission of Commodore Biddle to Japan, 593. 
Mississippi, earthquake on the, 219. 
Missive from Santa Anna to Gen. Taylor, 488. 
Missouri, earthquake in, 218. 
Mistake which led to Arnold's escape, 100. 
Mob law threatened in congress, 367. 
^Mobile Bay, military operations in, 860. 
IVIock " confinement" of Mrs. Cunningham, 633. 
Modus operandi of the sewing-machine, 467. 
Mohammed, comparison of the Mormon " Prophet " 

with, 30G. 
Moment (the) on which a statesman's life depended, 

709. 
" Monarch of the deep," the, 578. 
Monarchs contribute to the International Exhibition of 

industry, 601. 
Monarchy preferred by some officers in the revolution- 
ary army, 115. 
Money and rank unavailing in cholera times, 518. 

— center of America in flames. 356. 
Monitor and Merrimac, battle between the, 793. 
Monmouth, battle of, 114. 

Monongahela whiskey district, excitement in the, 160, 
Monroe, President, his invitation to Lafayette, 275. 
Monster meetings of whiskey insurrectionists iu Penn., 
164. 

— petition in congress, 363. 
Monterey and Cherubusco, battles of , 488. 

** Monthly Magazine," thrilling chapter in the, 322. 

Monticello, the residence of Thomas Jefferson, 292. 

Monument in honor of the discovery of ether, 462, 

Moral uses of the telegraphic cable, 905. 

Moody and Sankey, great revival movement under the 
lead of, 661. 

More than four hundred lives lost by the Central Amer- 
ica disaster, 635. 
three million slaves declared forever free, 8U. 

Morgan, Gen. Daniel, bravery of, iu the campaign of 
1777, 76. 

Mormons, the rise and progress of the, 306. 

Morocco, humiliation of, by the young Republic, 188. 

" Moroni," the alleged angel from heaven to Joseph 
Smith, 307. 



Morphy, Paul, the chess champion of the world, 666. 
Morrissey, John, his prize-fight with Heenan, 681. 
Morse's Invention' of the Electric Telegraph, 

345-352. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Mortal blow dealt Dr. Parkman by Prof. Webster, 529. 
Mortal Duel between Hon. Jonathan Cilley 

AND Hon. W. J. Graves, 712-714. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Mortal fear excited by the great meteoric shower, 329. 

— wound received by Alexander Hamilton, 194. 
Morton, Dr., his claim to the ether discovery, 463. 
Most grand and brilliant of celestial phenomena, 329. 

— important state paper since the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, 811. 

— majestic musical demonstration of modem times, 
923. 

— perfect drama of blood in the annals of crime, 626. 
Mother and daughter choose a watery grave from the 

burning ship, 675. 

— of his child. Mr. Sickles's tenderness for the, 696. 
Washington, the, her parting words to the Gen-. 

eral, 141. 
Motion made by John Adams that congress adopt the 

army and appoint a general, 113. 
Mount Vernon, departure of Washington from, for the 

presidential office, 140. 

, the Washington residence, 140. 

visited by the Prince of Wales, 759. 

Mountains tunneled, rivers bridged, on the Pacific rail-. 

road route, 909. 
Mounting the fatal platform, 721. 
Mourning, universal, at Washington's death, 174. 
Moving his troops across the Potomac, Gen. Lee, 826. 

— pillar of light seen during the great aurora borealis, 
383. 

Mrs. Clay, appearance of, the night before the duel, 
283. 

— Fremont's gift to the prayer-meetings, 660. 

— Tilton's denial in court of her husband's charges, 
949. 

Mudd, trial of, for assassination conspiracy, 898. 

Multiplied crimes of Gibbs, the pirate, 319. 

Municipal centennial celebrations, 962. 

Murder of Dr. Burdell, 626. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Murder of Dr. George Parkman, a noted Boston 

Millionaire, by Prof. John W. Webster, of 

Harvard College, 523-532. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
McRDER OF President Likcoln by J. Wilkes 

Booth, 887. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Murder of Samuel Adams, of New York, by John 

C. Colt, 531. 
(For tt^iical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Muscular magnificence of Morrissey and Heenan, 682. 
Music Hall, erection and inauguration of the great organ 

in Boston, 844. 

— -playing by the French troops in America, 108, 
Musical festival for five days in Boston, 915. 

— tour of Jenny Lind. the "Swedish Nightingale," 541. 
Mustering the hands aft, Capt. Semnies, 854. 
Mutiny on Board the U. S. Bbig-of-Wab Somebs, 

415-423. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 



992 



INDEX. 



Mutual attachment between Washington and Lafayette, 
ITo. 

— friend chosen for the Clay and Randolph duel, 283. 

— protection and advancement aimed at by the gran- 
gers, 939. 

" My child! my child! " — try of a bereaved mother at the 

school-house catastrophe, 570. 
" My Mother's Gold King," 394. 

Myriads of fire-balls in the heavens, Nov. 30, 1833, 330. 
Mysterious dark day, SO. 

— disappearance of J}t. Parkraan of Boston, 6-3. 
the comet in the unknown realms of space, 

429. 

— fate of Theodosia, Burr's daughter, 211. 



K 



Nahant beach, sea-serpent seen by thirty persons at, 
.178. 

Narrative of the solar eclipse, Cooper's, 197. 

Narrow escape of Pres, Tyler, at the Princeton explo- 
sion, 441. 

Narrowness of Boston streets contributing to the extent 
of the fire, 932. 

National capital founded, 167. 

— flag.s for winding-sheets, 441. 

Natio.nal Peace .Jibilef. an'd Musical Festit.\i. 
FOR Five Days, in Bosto.v, 915-923. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first patje of this 
£ren(.) 

Nature, transition in, occasioned by the sun's eclipse, 
198. 

— '8 secrets unbosomed by the western earthquake, 
221. 

Nautical peculiarities of the mammoth Great Eastern, 
743. 

Nauvoo, the Mormon Mecca, 311. 

Navai. Expedition to Japan, cndeb Commodorf, 
M. C. Perky. 592-599. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
/^veut.) 

Naval warfare revolutionized by the combat in Hamp- 
ton Roads, 797. 

Navigation by steam due to American ingenuity, 212. 

Near approach of the comet to the sun. 4l'7. 

Nebulous diameter of the wonderful comet, 427. 

Neglect of all secular concerns by Miller's followers, 
436. 

Negroes not allowed to take up arms in the war, 808. 

Neilson, Judge, appeal to by Mra. Tilton, 949. 

" Nelson," Washington's magnificent charger at York- 
town, 107. 

Nerve of Admiral Porter in battle, 867. 

Nestor of Massachusetts statesmen, the, .170. 

Net-work of telegraphic communication over the whole 
world, 350. 

Never-to-be-forgotten-scene in Hampton roads, 794. 

" Never will we surrender the ship ! "—Morris's reply to 
Buchanan, 796. 

New constitution for Rhode Island proposed. 409. 

— Haven, view of tlie auroral phenomenon at, 379. 

— Orleans, defeat of the British army by Gen. Jackson 
at, 257. 

— spectacle in the western world — inauguration of a 
president. 144. 

— themes and .actors on the theater boards, 658. 

— York City, tremendous tire in, 3.'>3. 

to San Francisco by rail in seven days, 914. 

New-born agent of civilization, 899. 



" New-f.ingled craft," term applied to Fulton's steam- 
bout, 212. 

Newburgh, Washington's farewell to the army at, 116. 

News of Gates's surrender, Washington's reception of, 
79. 
the California gold discovery, spread of the, 505. 

Newspapers, banks, etc., destroyed by the Chicago fire, 
925. 

Niagara, conveying the Japanese officials by the ship-of- 
war, 739. 

Niblo's Garden, Rarey's astounding performances at, 
778. 

Xicaraguan schemes of Gen. Walker, 751. 

Night of terror for New York, Dec. 16, 1835, 354. 

— scenes at Richmond on its evacuation. 879. 

Nine out of twelve jurymen in favor of >lr. Beecher, 

950. 
"Ninety and nine," 664. 

five concerts and S700,000, Jenny Lind's, 544. 

"No compromise with traitors," 326. 

No English flag on Lake Champlain, 256. 

"No tiddler ever known to convict for murder," 696. 

— general on the battle-field, 787. 

— hand to smooth his couch or wipe his brow, 711. 

— mercy to shoot a man in the knee, 288. 
" — obstacles to him who wills," 5S6. 

— sunlight for one hundred and forty days, 534. 

— superiority in Morphy's chess games until after his 
twentieth move, OCO. 

Nomination of Washington as General of the Army, in 

congress, by Mr. Johnson, of Md., 113. 
Noond.'iy comet, the, 425. 
North America covered, for houiB, with fleiy meteors, 

330. 
Northern soil inviided by the confederate army, 826. 

— States, the, wrapt in a dense black atmosphere for 
fifteen hours, 89. 

North-west expedition of discovery by Fremont, 402. 
Not a female saved from the Arctic's awful doom, 615, 

— able to make the thing work, 465. 

" — guilty." joy on receiving the verdict of, in the 
Sickles case, 095. 

— much encouragement for Dead Sea travelers, 498. 

— to be intimidated. 307. 
Novelty in naval combats in 1779, 83. 
Nucleus of a great empire on the Pacific, 506. 

NUI.I.IFIC.\TION OlTnKEAK IN SOCTH CAROLINA, 320- 

328. 
(For topical and analytical details, set first page qf thit 
Event.) 



" O Lord, my God ! " dying words of Smith the Mormon 

" prophet," 312. 
Oak Ridge cemetery. Pres. Lincoln's remains conveyed 

to, 893. 
Oath administered to Washington, at his Inauguration, 

144. 
— to support the Constitution, Calhoun taking the, 

324. 
Object of Randolph in firing at Clay, 288. 
Objections, religious, to the introduction of ana;8thetlc8, 

4.-.«. 
Objects contributed by crowned heads to the centennial 

exposition, 9.".S, 9.-,9. 
Obliteration of streets in Boston by the great fire, 936. 
Obsequies of Pres. Lincoln, imposing character of the, 

893. 
Observations of the total eclipse of the sun, 200. 



nSTDEX. 



993 



Observatory established by the south pole voyagers, 

387. 
Obstinacy of King George in American affairs, 120. 
Obstinate bravery of the hosts at Antietam, 805. 
Occupation of a foreign capital for the first time by the 

U S., 488. 
Ocean navigation, greatest achievement in, 742. 

— spray covering the interior, during the great gale, 
269. 

— telegraph cable, successful laying of the Atlantic, 
904. 

Odd Fellows, parade of at the centennial, 955. 

— talk during the etherization process. 461. 
Ode for the centennial by Bayard Taylor, 9C0. 

" Of such is the kingdom of heaven," — tragic fate of the 
little ones, 508. 

Offense given to South Carolina by Senator Sumner's 
speech, C17. 

Offers his hand to Clay, Randolph, 288. 

Official commission appointing Washington commander- 
in-chief, 113. 

Ogden's house untouched in the midst of the Chicago 
fire, 930. 

Oglesby, Gen., his interview with Pres. Lincoln, 888. 

*' Oh, for four regiments !"— Gen. Johnston's exclama- 
tion at Bull Run, 787. 

" Oh, God ! It is al I over,— it is all over ! " — Lord North's 
exclamation at Cornwallis's defeat. 104. 

" Oh, my poor mother and sisters! " G12 

Ohio valley, earthquake felt all along the, 219. 

Oil regions in Pennsylvania, etc., G98. 

O'Laughlin and Arnold, trial of, for assassination con- 
spiracy, 898. 

Old and new: sewing by hand and machine, 470. 

— animosities, continuance of, between England and 
America, 119. 

"Old Ironsides,"' pet name of the frigate Constitution, 

225. 
" Old man eloquent," the, term applied to J. Q. Adams, 

363. 
" Old Osawatonue," John Brown known as, 715. 

— salts venturing their opinions on the results of the 
race, 5G0. 

"Old South" church, Boston, narrow escape of, from 

burning, 933. 
Olympian oratory of Mr. Beecher in Europe in defense 

of the Union cause, 837. 
Omens of tUsaster to the business world, 645. 
On a plank in the yawning ocean. 640. 

— his way to the gallows, John Brown, 721. 

— the top of the Sierras, railway cars, 90S. 

" On to Richmond I "—the Union war cry, 780. 

" On to the Capital ! "—Scott's order to his troops, 490. 

— Utah Lake, 405. 

Onderdonk, Bishop, affecting death-bed scene of, 455. 
One fearful shriek and all was over, 613. 

— hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a chance in a 
boat, 614. 

el-ihorato orations by Kossuth in his country's 

behalf. 590. 

thousand men on each side of the battle, 803. 

persons made homeless by the Chicago fire, 

929. 
yachts at Cowes witness the international regatta, 

561. 
years ago, 65. 

— of the first conversions in the great awakening, 
C59. 

— thousand dollars for a baby, 6.32. 

Only instance of the kind since the Reformation, 448. 
"Only knocked down temporarily," 7G0 

— occasion on which Jenny Lind complimented her 
own singing, 544. 

G3 



Only one boat of the Austria safely afloat. 674. 
"Onward, my brave comrades!" Jeff. Davis to his troops 

at Bull Run, 787. 
Open polar sea discovered by Dr. Kane, 537. 
Opening of the attack on Fort Sumter, and of the great 

civil war, 765. 

— the Mississippi once more to commerce, Gen. Grant, 
824. 

Opera-house riots. New York, 508. 

Opinion of the Massachusetts rebellion expressed by 

Washington, 127. 
Opposed to all unconstitutional anti-slavery acts, Pres. 

Lincoln, 807. 
Opposition steam-boat lines, first, 217. 

— to tbe tax laws in Massachusetts, 126. 
Oppressions, British, complained of by the American 

colonies, 69. 

Oracular predictions of the enemies of free govern- 
ment. 8. 

Oration l>y Mr. Evarts at the national centennial. 960. 

— in France, on the death of George Washington, 180, 
Oratorical Chahipioxship of America's Cause 

IX England by Rev. H. W. Beecher, 836-843. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
Event.) 

Oratorical powera displayed by Kossuth, ."91. 

Oratorios and .symphonies in Boston in honor of the re- 
turn of peace, 920. 

Orchestra of two thousand instruments at the world's 
peace jubilee, 923. 

Ordeal of Burnside's corps at Antietam, 801. 

Order out of chaos, 371. 

Orders from England to "lay waste" America, 242. 

— of glory conferred by foreign governments on Prof. 
Morse, 351. 

— to Union generals on the treatment of slaves, Pres. 
Lincoln's, 808. 

Oregon, early exploration of, 405, 
— , Fremont's tour to, 405. 
Organ, erection and inauguration of the great Boston, 

814. 
Organic form of government needed by the U. S., 132. 
Organization of the Southern Confederacy, 765. 
OrienUil visitors at the capital, 738. 
Origin of the duel between Clay and Randolph, 283. 
Original magnetic-telegraph instrument, 347. 

— [tick and shovel used on the Pacific I'ailroad, 909. 

— principle of the sewing-machine, 4C4 

Orion, stars of, vit^ible during the solar eclipse, 107. 

Other side of the picture, 704. 

Out-stretched forefinger of a century, the, 10. 

Outburst of popular enthusiastic greeting for Lafayette, 
272. 

Outcaroled by the woodland warbler, Jenny Lind, 
547. 

Outpouring of sublime and patriotic music at the Bos- 
ton peace jubilee. 917. 

Outrages committed in the Penn. whiskey insurrection, 
162. 

Outwitting the U. S. officials, 751. 

Ovation, national, to LafHyelte, 281. 
— s to Washington on his jouniey, 142. 

Overmasteriiig intensity of heat in the Boston fire, 
932. 

Overpowering quiet and solitude in the Kocky Mount- 
ains, 404. 

Overthrow of St Clair, "Little Turtle's," 148. 
the four year.'* gigantic rebellion. 877. 

Overture- and cheers— Henn.- Clay al Jenny Lind's con- 
cert, 548. 
— , choruses, anthems, etc., by ten thousand voices, 
917. 

— to Farragut to join the South, 859. 



994 



INDEX. 



Pacific railroad, triumphant completion of the, 907. 
Pageant in New York, on Kossuth's arrival, 587. 

— of auroral splendor covering Europe and America, 
38.5. 

Painless performance of surgical operations, iSG. 
Painting the emancipation event, Mr. Carpenter, 809. 
Pakenham, Gen., bis command of the British army at 

New Orleans, 261 ; his fall at the onset, '.'i;!. 
Palace of glass and iron in New York, 602. 
— s and hovels of Chicago a connnon prey in the great 

Are, 9l'5. 
Palo Alto and Ke-tnca de la Palma, battles of, 488. 
Pang of horror at Pri'S. Lincoln's fate, universal, 892. 
Panic among the women, during the California earth- 
quake, 224. 
Panorama of vastness and grandeur along the Pacilic 

railrrad, 909. 
Papers discovered in Andre's boots, 99. 
Parents forsaking children and lleeiug from the cholera, 

.il7. 
Parepa-Rosa. her marvelous performances at the peace 

jubilee. 921. 
Paris, celebration of the American centennial at, 965. 
Parkinson's Ferry, Va., convention of whiskey insurrec- 
tionists at, 10,5. 
Parkman, Dr. George, murder of, in Boston, by Prof. 

J W. Webrter, 523. 
Parliament acknowledging American Independence, 

120. 
— , the British, stunned by the news of Burgoyue's 

capitulation, 60. 
Parliamentary triumph of John Quincy Adams, 371. 
Parlor interview between Gens. Grant and Lee, 882. 
Parting of Gen Lee with his soldiers at Richmond, 883. 
— s and deaths on the Central America, 638. 
Partisan prejudice disowned by the grangers, 910. 
Parton's admiraldo sketi-h of Howe's invention, 405. 
Pa.ss from Gen. Arnuld exhibited i>y .\ndre, 99. 
Pas.-age down the Jordan, the sacred river, 495. 
Pass.vge of Benton's Famois " Expcxoinc. Resoh- 

Tiux" in the U.S. Senate, -\rTER aThkee Ye^vrs 

Pahli.v.mentaey Stiiiggle, 37:1-378. 
{For topical 'and analytical tletailD, seejirstpaye of thU 

Event.) 
Passage-money, first steam-boat, 216. 
Passing the batteries of Forts Jackson and St. Philip, 

8«l. 

royal yacht, 505. 

Passionate oratory of Senator Hayno, 299. 

Pa-'sions and vices of human nature illustrated during 

the cholera scourge, .520. 
Past rivalries and animosities forgotten, 296. 
Palent-oftice display at the centennial, 957. 
Pathetic letter of Eli Whitney to Robert Fulton, 159. 

— scenes during the Chicago fire, 930. 

Patriotic conciliation In the convention for framing the 

Constitution, 137. 
Patrons of Husbandry, 911. 
Pavilion for women at the centennial, 9.57. 
Paying him their heaviust compliments, 864. 

— $3,000 for the original emancipation proclamation, 
815. 

— " tribute " to the Barbary States, 182. 
Payne, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 897. 
Peabody, George, his visit in Boston, 921. 

Peace between the United Stales and Great Britain, 

treaty of, 257. 
** Peace in Europe "—first telegraphic dispatch over the 

Atlantic cable, 904. 

— jubilee and musical festival in Boston, 915. 
Peals of thunder during tlie ** Dark Day," 93. 



Pecuniary importance of mechanical inventions, 471. 

— relations between Parkman and Webster, 524. 
Pemberton, Gen., his command of Vicksburg, Miss., 818; 

his surrender, S23. 

— Mills in Lawrence, Mass., fall and confiagratlon of, 
723. 

Pen with which the proclamation of emancipation was 

written, H07. 
Penal colonies of England emptied into California, S51. 
Penalty of Walker's lillibustering expeditions, 755; his 

execution and last words, 755. 
Pennant of the Alabama, running up the, 8.54. 
Penning his otRcial dispatch, announcing the fall of 

Sumter, Major Anderson, 77o. 
Pennsylvania whiskey insurrection, 100. 
Penobscot Bay, visit of the sea-serpent at, 576. 
Pentecost, the American, 059. 
Perkins, Hon. T. H., his near view of the sea-serpent, 

578. 
Peroration, impressive, of Webster's speech, 303. 
Perry, Commodore, his capture of the British squadron, 

234. 
— , Com. M. C, his expedition to Japan, 592. 
Personal appearance of Aaron Burr, 191. 

Brigham Young, 312. 

Capt. Hull, on ordering the Constitution's fire, 

233. 

Daniel Webster, 302. 

George Washington, 180. 

Gen. Jackson at the battle of Kew Orleans, 

26:. 

Gen. Robert E. Lee, 882. 

Gen. Shertnan, 876. 

Gen. Walker.the lilUbustering chief, 765. 

Gov. Kossuth, .590. 

John Brown, 719. 

John Quincy .\dams, 309. 

Lawrence, the would-be assassin of Pres. Jack- 
son, 341. 

Morrissey and Heenan, In fighting ring, 684. 

_ Prnf J. W. Webster, 627. 

Robert Fulton. 217. 

the ambassadors from Japan, 736. 

Prince of Wales, 76.3. 

— intercourse with .\niold avoided in England, 103. 

— offering from Victoria to the World's Fair in New 
York, 60 ■: 

Personating Dr. Burdell in marriage, 627. 
Pescldva-Leutner, her musical performances at the 

World's iieacc jubilee, 923. 
" Pet lambs " in battle, br.avery of the, "85. 
Tetersburg evacuated by the confederate army, 879. 

PETROLEtTM EXCITEMENT IN PeSSSYLVAXIA, 69»- 

700. 
{For topical and analytical ilelailt, see Jirstpaye of this 

Fienl.) 
Phases of the solar eclipse at the South, 202. 
Phenomenon of terrible heat In the Chicago and Boston 

fires, 932. 
Philadelphia, intemati<mal exposition at, 952. 

— occupied by Gen. Howe, 72. 

Phillipps and Ole Bull at the great musical jubilee in 
Boston, 921. 

Philosophy of Mr. Barey'smethod with the horse, 774. 

Photograpliing the total solar eclipse, 201. 

Phraseology of the Tycoon's letter to the President, 
736. 

Physico-psychologlcal phenomena, wonderful. 472. 

Pick, the, tliat struck the first blow on the Union Pa- 
cific railroad, JMt9. 

Picked men employed by the British against America, 
251. 
on board the Alabama, 852. 



INDEX. 



995 



Picture gallery of the national century, 14. 

Pierce, President, inauguration of the N. Y. Industrial 

Exhibition by, (505. 
Piercing and siuking the frigates, the monster Merri- 

mac, 792, 
Pilgrimage to the tomb of a ** rebel " general, the Prince 

of Wales's, 759. 
" Pillar of salt, or Lot's wife," Americans visit the, 

4m. 
Pinioning John Brown on the scaffold, 722. 
Pioneers in the oil-boring business, 699. 
Pipes of the colossal Boston organ, immeuse size of the, 

842. 
Pirate Gibbs, his career, capture, and execution, 314. 
Piratical powers, America dealing with the. 182. 
Piteous appeal to Gibbs, a young girl's, for her life, 

317. 
Pitifible sights during the burning of Chicago, 930. 
Pittsburg. Penn., memorable conflagration in, 353. 
Pius IX.. his contribution to the centennial. 959. 
Plan of government submitted by Randolph, 135. 
Planets seen during the total solar eclipse, 202. 
Planting the U. S. flag on the Rocky Mountain peak, 

404. 
Plattsburg reached by the British, 251. 
Plaudits and congratulations exchanged for stampings 

and hisses. 843. 
Playful raillery between Washingtion and Lafayette, 

101. 
Playing against and beating eight rivals, Morphy blind- 
folded, 6t;8. 

— whist at a neighbor's, after the murder, Prof. Web- 
ster, 530. 

— with the grass and flowers, Grant and Pemberton, 
822 

['laza of Granada, Gen. Walker executing his old foe in, 

751 . 
Pleasant courtesies between Webster and Hayne, 304. 
Pleasantries between Clay and Randolph after the duel, 

289. 
Pleasure tourists on board the ill-fated Arctic, 615. 
Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of 

America, to the British, 97-103. 
(For topical and analytical details^ see Jirst page of this 

Event.) 
Pluck of an Irishman in a scene of horror, 728. 

Commodore McDonough, 250. 

Plump and dextrous retort by Beecher to the English 

mob. 841. 
Plunder of the American capital by the British, 248. 
Plymouth, Mass., appearance of the sea-serpent at, 

57G. 
Poem for the centennial inauguration by John G. 

Whittier, 952. 
Point of exception taken by South Carolina to Mr. 

Sumner'.^ speech, 617. 
Polar wonders discovered by the TJ. S. scientific expedi- 
tion, 391. 
Policy of compromise opposed by Mr. Webster, 325. 
Political issue made in Rhode Island, 409. 
Politics and dueliug in America, 707. 
Polk's proclamation of war with Mexico, 487. 
Polygamy "divinely" introduced among the Mormons, 

312. 
Poor evidence of courage, 593. 

— farmers becoming millionaires in the oil country. 704. 
Popular interest of the subjects treated in this volume, 

10. 

— labor organizations, 938. 

Portentous dispatch in parliament, Comwallis's sur- 
render. 108. 
Porter, Admiral, his naval achievements, 860. 
— , Gen. Fitz John, at the battle of Antietam, 803. 



Portland harbor, magnificence of, on the Prince of 

Wales's departure, 7G.'5. 
— , Maine, va^t destruction in by fire. 353. 
Possible cause of the ** D.irk Day." 95. 
Posthumous honors to Pres. Linroln. 894. 
Potomac, army of the, reunion of, at Philadelphia, 

955. 
— , the national capital to be located on the, 168. 
Potter, John D.. the revival preacher, 657. 
Pouring a broadside into the Bon Homme Richard, 

85. 
Powerlessness of the officers on board the Austria, 

674. 
Practicability of painless surgery first demonstrated, 

459. 
Prayer at Pres. Lincoln's death-bed. Dr. Gurley's, 892. 

— before battle, Com. McDonough's, on Lake Cham- 
plain, 253. 

meetings all over the land, 654. 

Preaching characteristics of Win. Miller, 437. 
Precarious tenure of human life, impressive illustration 

of the, 567. 
Precipitate flight of President Madison from the British, 

246. 

— retreat of the federal army at Bull Run, 784. 
Precipitated into the abyss of destruction, 571. 
Precisely mistaking their man, 367. 
Preparations for Christ's second coming, 436. 
Presence of mind during the Pemberton Mills catastro 

phe, 726. 
Present of a banner from Cork to Boston, 485. 
Presenting Kossuth to the American people, 5S7. 
Presentment of charges against the bishop of New TorV 

448. 
President Jackson, attempted assassination of, 337. 
's wrath aroused, 326. 

— Lincoln assassinated at Ford's theater, by J. W. 
Booth, 887. 

Presidential honors at the White House, to Jenny Lind, 
545. 

— reception of the Prince of Wales, England's future 
king. 757. 

Press and pulpit discussions of the " spiritual " phenom- 
ena, 477 

Pressing her baby to her breast and jumping from the 
burning ship, 676. 

Pressure of the wind during the great September gale, 
265. 

Prestige given to American naval prowess, 82. 

— to American arms gained by the victory at New 
Orleans, 257. 

Presumed jeopardy of half a continent, 3.35. 
Pretending to give birth to Dr. Burdell's child, 633. 
Pretext, Aaron Burr's alleged, for his suspicious move- 
ments. 204. 
Price of Arnold's treason, 103. 

— paid for the original proclamation of emancipation, 
815. 

Prima-donnas at the musical festival in Boston, 917. 
Prince of Wales, his tour in the United States, 756. 
Princeton, battle of, 114. 
— , session of congress at, 168. 

Principle involved in Mr. Rarey's wonderful success 
with horses, 778. 

— s and aims of the grange societies, 939. 
—s of action governing the California vigilance commits 
tee, 551. 

government agreed upon by the federal conven- 
tion at Phila., 137. 
Prismatic brilliancy of the heavens, Nov. 13-14, 1837, 

383. 
Prisoners of war at last, Gen. Walker and his army, 
754. 



996 



ES'DEX. 



Prize-fight between Monissey ami Heenan, 681. 

Prize ofTered for the successful yacht in international 
regatta, 556. 

Problem of steam propulsion solved by Fulton, 217. 
— B of public policy, 11. 

Proceeds of Jenny Lind's tirst concert in America all 
given to charity, W6. 

Procesiies and results of indostiy revolutiouized by In- 
ventive skill, 470. 

Pbocla.mati(is of Emancipation as a War Meas- 
ure, BV Phksident LlNCOLy, 807-810. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page q/" this 
Event.) 

Prodigious velocity of the great comet, 427. 

Producers and consumers, grangers' view of. 939. 

Programme of the Boston musical festival, 915. 

Progress of the total solar eclipse, 199. 

Prohibition of slavery in the U. S, declared by constitu- 
tional amendment, 810. 

Projected Britiiib invasion of the northern states, 

Prolonged embarrassment and distrust in the boainess 

world, Co2. 
Promises made by Burr to his followers, 206. 
Promontory Point, uniting the two grand divisions of 

the Pacific railroad at, 910. 
Promulgating the emancipation proclamation at the 

South 8t4. 
Proofs of Lafayette's patriotism and military skill, 

275. 
Property seized at the South, at the beginning of the 

civil war. 7G4. 
Proi^hecies of the Bible as interpreted by Mr. AliUer, 

AM. 
" Propbei. of the Lord," the, title assumed by the Mor- 
mon leadei, .'.06. 
— s of evil omen :icross the water, 8. 
Proposed location of the national govemznent on the 

Su.-iquehanna. 10b; ur in New York, 168. 
— memorial tribute to Senator Sumner, after the as- 
sault, 621. 
Prospect of awful grandeur- produced by the great fire, 

300. 
Prosperity and power of the rcj 'jMicon its centennial 

anniversary, 951. 
Prostration everywhere of all braiK ;iv>s of industry, 

650. 
Protest by Jolm Qaincy Adams In congress, "'IS. 
Pres. Jackson, against the senate's re&o>ntIon of 

censure, 375. 
Proud day for America, 107. 
Provisional peace between England and Amerit^a. 

71. 
Psalms and hymns instead of polkas and opera songs, 

G58. 
Public services of Alexander Hamilton, 190. 
Publicists' opinion of the granger system, 911. 
Pugilism in America, introduction of, '>8I. 
Plnisument anu CoMi'LEXE Uegradatiox op the 

Babuary States by the Youa'g Kepi'blic. 182- 

188. 
{For topical and analytical detaiU, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Pure white combined with vivid colors in the wonderful 

aurora, 382. 
Purple tinge of the atmosphere during the earthquake, 

219. 
Purpose of the assassination conspirators. 887. 
Purses of gold untouched in the face of death, 642. 
Pushing the line of railroad to the Pacitic to completion, 

909. 
Putting in operation the first recording electric tele- 
graph, 'MG. 



Q. 

Qaacks and nostrums rife in time of pestilence, 522. 
Queen of Kngland's interview with John Adams, 

124. 
" Queen of Song." the, in America. 541. 
the NetlierUnds present at the Mood; and Saukey 

meetings, VG2. 

— Victoria witnesses the racing match In which the 
America won, 5<>5. 

Question asked Farragut by a lady, 866. 

Mr. Webster by Mr. Uayne, and its answer, 

303 

— of power between the whites and Indians forever 
settled, 1.12. 

Quiet coolness of voice and manner in treating horses, 

Mr. Rarey's, 779. 
Quiocy, Mass., Adams's mansion at, 296. 



Eace for the '• Cup of AU Nations," in the great inter- 
national regatta, 558. 

Rage of Ibu Turks against America, 187. 

Raging and furious animals made docile by Mr. Rarey's 
system, 774, 

Raging and foaming of the rivers, during the great 
Septeiuber gale, 265. 

— fire niglit and day in Boston, '.>:<3. 
Railroad to the Pacific, construction of the, 908. 
Rain-gauge, during the Sept. gale, 271. 

— of shot and shell at Antietam, 800. 
Raleigh, arrival of Sherman's army at, 875. 

"Rally round the flag!"— troops at Vicksburg singing, 

823. 
Randolph, John, his duel with Henry Clay, 282. 
Rank held by Benedict Arnold in the British army, 

103. 
Rapturous applause by Queen Victoria on witnessing 

Rarey's horse-taming fcals, 776. 
Rare commingling of artillery, bells, and music, 9IR. 
Rarey, John S., bis success in taming furious horses, 

773. 
Ratification of the Federal Constitution, 188. 
Ravages of the cholera when at its deadliest prevalence, 

516. 
Reading King George's letter on Comwallis's surrender, 

lOS. 

— his commission to his ship's hands, CapL Semmes, 
854. 

coDStiluents* petition, in congress, Mr. Adams, 

:,'4. 

— ti.o Declaration of Independence to the army. 68. 
. li.'claration of Independence in Pliila., July 4, 

1870, by llichard H. Lee, 067. 

indict:. :ent for murder to Prof. Webster, 527. 

names o. 'he lost and saved, 609. 

Ready to rip then,. -'Ives open for the captain's satisfac- 
tion, 593. 

Real name of Gibbs the Mrate, 314. 

Heiisoii for narrating the L-iital prize-fight, 682. 

Rebellion in Rhode Isl-.nd cndeu Tbom.vs W. 
Dour. 408-114. 

(For topical and analytical detaili, see first page qf lliit 
Event ) 

Rebellion, Sliays's, in Massachusetts, 126. 

Receiving Comwallis's surrender. Gen. Washington, 
108. 

Reception given the Declaration of Independence in 
England, 69. 



INDEX. 



997 



Reception of Gov. Kossuth, toe Great Huxga- 
riax k-\1le,as the uuest ok the nation, 583- 

591. 

(For topical and analytical details^ see first page of this 
Event.) 

Keception of the Japanese treaty ambassadors, 733. 

Ke<-kless stock gambling, 651. 

lieclftiming tho intemperate, 398. 

lieclamation of bardened characters during the relig- 
ious revival, 659. 

Recognition of Kossuth by his hat, 587. 

Recognizing Parkman's charred and dismembered re- 
mains, 525. 

Recommendations by Pres. Grunt for celebrating the 
centennial, 952, 966. 

Recovery and illustrious career of Senator Sumner, 
6l'5. 

Red-coats, Gen. Jackson's warning to the, 263. 

hot condition of the great comet, 429. 

letter days in the century's historj', 9. 

tinted garniture of nature, Nov. 14, 1837, 380. 

Redness of the sun and moon, Jlay 19, 1780, 90, 

Re-entombment of Washington's remains, 178. 

Reflecting over the Vicksburg problem, Gen, Grant, 
824. 

Reflection of the comot in the ocean, 426. 

Refusal of the colonies to be unjustly taxed by Great 
Brirain, 6.3. 

Refusing a commission of major-general, Sherman, 
876. 

Regatta, international, at Cowes, 558. 

Regenerator of Central America, title applied to Gen. 
Walker, 750. 

Regular ocean steamer, the first, 742. 
— s and volui.teers alike demoralized at Bull Run, 785. 

Rkigxof the Vigilance Committee in California, 
550-557 . 

(for topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.] 

Reigning crowned heads, visit of, to the U. S., 954. 

Kelatiun of the cotton-gin to the themes and events of 
American history. 159. 

Relative equality of the Kearsarge and Alabama, 856. 

Release of U. S. sailors in Japan demanded by Commo- 
dore Biddle, 59J. 

Relieving pain by the use of ether, 456. 

— stan'ation in Ireh^nd, 485. 

Religious devotions resorted to on the *' Dark Day," 69. 

— world, great awakening in the, 653. 

Reluctance of Washington to accept the presidency, 
139. 

Reluctantly attends the theater, on the fatal evening, 
Pres. Lincoln, 8S9. 

Remains of Dr. Parkman found in Prof. Webster's labor- 
atory, 525. 

Remark made by Washington to Knox, at Yorktown, 
107. 

Remedies proposed by grangers for business troubles, 
943. 

Remedy for murder and arson, the vigilance commit- 
tee's, 551. 

Remission of Bishop Onderdonk's sentence, 4.55. 

Removal of Pres. Lincoln from Ford's theater, 891. 

the deposits, Jackson's, from tlie U. S, Bank, 

374. 

Rendering the verdict in Prof. Webster's case, 528. 

liendezvous of the British at Ship Island, 259. 

Keiiewal of the United States Bank charter, the opposi- 
tion to, 374. 

Reno, Gen., his untimely death. 804. 

Renovation of California society by " LjTich-law,'* 553. 

Renown of Rev. H. W. Beecher as a preacher and 
author, 946. 



Repart«e with his English hearers, Beecher's ready, 
841. 

Reply of John Paul Jones to the British commander, 
83. 

King George to John Adams, 123. 

IMcCiellan to Buruside'a request on the battle- 
field, 803. 

Reporting the battle of Antietam, 806. 

Repossession of Fort Sumter by the U. S., 885. 

Republic of the United States, Birth of the, 
65. 

(For topical and analytical detailSj see first page of this 
Event.) 

Repulse and retreat of the monster craft Merrimac, 
795. 

Reputed origin of Smith's " Divine Records," 307. 

Requests for prayers at the revival meetings, 658. 

Rescuing the women and children on board the Cen- 
tral America, 636. 

Residence of Gen. Washington in New York. 143. 

Resignation by Washington as Commander-in- 
Chief, 115. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Resignation of his seat in congress, by P. S. Brooks, 623; 
his unanimous re-election. 623 ; his speedy and ter- 
rible death, 623; fate of his accomplices, 623. 

Resolution of censure, Clay's, in the U. S. senate. 375. 

Colonial Independence offered by Richard Henry 

Lee, 66. 

Resources of both armies tasked to their utmost al Vicks- 
burg, 819. 

Resplendent auroral glories spanning the whole hemi- 
sphere, 382. 

Responses in kind from embittered rivals, 509. 

Resting-place on his march to the sea, Sherman's, 870. 

Restoration of peace, grand celebration of in Boston in 
1869, 915. 

Results of the cotton-gin invention, l.'iO. 

Retirement of Washington as revolutionary leader, 
112. 

Retribution for the Barbary States, 183. 

Retrospect of the century's annals, 11. 

Returning the marriage-ring broken, C93. 

— to his camp after his surrender, Gen. Lee, 883. 
Revelations, alleged, from the unseen world, 477. 
Reverses in the Indian wars, 146. 

Revival movement, the great religious, 653. 
Revolution, industrial, produced by the cotton-gin, 159. 
Reynolds, Gen., his corps at Gettysburg, 827. 
Rhapsody of Burr over his scheme of conquest, 206. 
Rich men and paupers buried alike during the epidemic, 
518, 
made penniless in a single night, 357. 

— prizes taken by the pirate Gibbs, 317, 
Richardson. Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 781. 
Richest spot in America burnt to ashes, :i53, 
Richmond. Va., the confederate capital, capture of, by 

the L'nion army, 877. 
Ride out to his farms, last, by Gen. Washington, 175. 
Riding from the White House to the theater, Pres. 

Lincoln, 889. 

— through the city of Richmond, Pres. Lincoln, SS4. 

— to jail at night. Prof. Webster, 526. 

Rig and points of the yacht America described, 566. 
Right of petition, the struggle for, 362. 
— s of political citizenship conferred upon the fieed- 

men, 816. 
" Ring out the Old,— Ring in the New ! " 9. 
Ringing the bell in Independence Hall, Phila., 67. 
Rink, Moody and Sankey's meetings at the Brooklyn, 

664. 
Riots at the Astor place opera-bouse, N. Y., 508. 



998 



INDEX. 



Rise and Prohress of the Mormons, or " Latter- 
day Saints," 30G-313. 

(,For topical and analytical details, see first page of litis 
Event.) 

Rising and sinking of the ground in the great western 
eartbquatce, 218. 

— of the water to the window tops, during the great 
gale, 2(». 

Riles of religion administered to the dying senator, 

710. 
Rivalry between the North and South in selecting a 

revolutionary leader, 113. 
Rivas and Virgin Bay, Walker's batllesat.T.W. 
Roasting alive on the steamship Austria, ti76. 
Robinson, Richard 1'., alleged murderer of Helen Jewett, 

634. 
Rochester, N. Y., early spiritual miinifeslations at, 474. 
Rock oil, tirst attempt to obtain, by sinking a well, G99. 
— y Mountains, e.xplorations of, 404. 
Rogers, Captain, comnrands the tirst ocean steamer, 

74.'. 
Roman Catholic tributo to the value of Mr. Moody's 

work, (1G2. 
Root of the whole financial difficulty, C51. 
Ro>e-colored clouds of Judca observed by explorers, 

41)1. 
" Koslin Castle," played at Washington's farewell to the 

army, IU> 
Ross, General, his capture of Washington, 247. 
Rosy illumination of the entire arch of tlie heavens, 

380. 

— protuberances during the solar eclipse, 201. 
Rotunda of the capitol, Pres. Lincoln's remains in the, 

893. 

"Round eleven, and last," at the brutal prize-fight, 
080. 

Rousing the patriotism of the Nicaraguans, Ocn. Walker, 

749. 
Southern forces at Bull Run, 781. 

Rout and slaughter of the British at New Orleans, 257. 

Rowing and warping in a calm, the Constitution, 'J27. 

Royal civilities to Juhn Adams, first minister to En- 
gland, 123, 124. 

— visitors to the first steamer from the U. S., 742. 
RudersdorlT's musical performances at the World's peace 

jubilee, 923. 
Ruins of the I'emberton Mills, scenes among the, 

725. 
Rule adopted by Com. Perry in naval battle, 23G. 
" Rule Britannia"— practical comment on by the yacht 

"America." ^>^. 
Rules established by Washington for the presidential 

oflice, 145. 

— observed on the dueling-ground, 193. 
Rulings of the judge in tlio Brooklyn trial, 930. 
Ruin not necessary for heroism, 401. 
Rumble of the dead-carts in the cities, 521. 
Run upon the banks for specie, C49. 

Running past the confederate batteries. Farragut, 
802. 

Runyon, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 782. 

Rupture between the two greatest of modern tragedians, 
509. 

Rush for the spoils by the British army in Washington, 

247. 
— , his account of Washington's wrath at St. Clair's de- 
feat, 149. 

Rushing from his house in a frenzy, Mr. Sickles, 692. 

— out tlieir victims from the roof-beams, the vigilance 
committee, 5.57. 

Russia acknowledges the independence of the U. S., 
71. 
— 's sword makes Kossuth .'in exile. 58C. 



Sacking of the presidential mansion by the British, 

247. 
Sacrament administered to Alexander Hamilton, 195. 
Sacramento, Cal., great fire in, .353. 
Sad confession of her guilt by Mrs. Sickles, G91. 
Safety of Union men's lives under Pres. Jackson, 328. 
Sailing 90.000 miles in four years, 386. 

— under the black flag, 310. 

— while enveloped in fuiious flames, 674. 
Saint Clair, Ids defeat by the Indians, 148. 

Salvos of artillery, chords of music, rounds of cheers, 
919. 
on Coniwallis's surrender, 110. 

Salt Lake City, the Mormon Zion. 313. 

Samoan group, Wilkes's survey of, 389. 

San Francisco, calamitous fire in, ;153. 
, earthquakes in, 223. 

Sandwich Islands, visit of the king of the, 954. 

Sanguinary programme against .America, 242. 

Sanguine expectations of I>ord Cui iiw.allis, 104. 

Sanitary fair, Pres. Lincoln's gift lo the, 815. 

Sankey, Mr , his iiopular religious songs, 604. 

Santa Ann.a's flight in the dead of midnight, 493. 

Sapping and mining at Vicksburg, 819. 

Saratoga, encampment of liurgoyne's army at, 75, 

Sarcasm char:icterizlng .John Randolph, 283. 

"Satisfaction" on the dueling-ground, 289. 

Savages enlisted by (.ien. Burgoyne, 73. 

Savannah, Ga., capture of, by Sln-iinan's army, 876. 

" Save the admiral ! Save the admiral I " 865. 

Saving the vast treasures of 6tat« street from the fire,. 
933. 
— s-bank excitement in the great panic, 649. 

Scanning the battle-field in the midst of action. 
McClellan, 803. 

Scarlet columns of dazzling beauty rising from the hori- 
zon, 380. 

Scheme devised by Benedict Arnold for betraying his 
country, 9H. 

— for making Wa.sliington a king. 115. 

— to free the slaves. John Brown's. 715. 

Scene of horror at Fotd's theater, on the night of the 
a.ssassination, 891. 

School-house catastrophe in New York, 567. 

Scburz. Carl, liis centennial oration at St. Ix>uls, 964. 

Schuyler, Gen., his operations against Burgoyne, 75. 

Science, contributions lo, by Wilkes's exploring expedi- 
tion. .380. 

Scientific perfection of the present telegraphic system, 
351. 

— preparations for obser\Mng the eclipse 199. 

Scope of lliis volume — wonders and prodigies, men and 
events. 9. 

Scorching reply to Senator Butler, by Senator Sumner, 
617. 

Scott, Gen., In the Halls of the Montezumas, 487. 

Scourge of the cholera and yellow fever. 518. 

"Scourge of the ocean," name given to Gibbs, 315. 

Scouring the country in pursuit of Booth, 895. 

Screech from the confederate army on commencing bat- 
tle, 828. 

Scriptural evidence of his views eiteil by Wm. Miller, 
4.37. 

" Sea of Death," examination of the. 499. 

Tiberias crossed by the American explorers. 495. 

fowls driven hundreds of miles into the interior by 

the galo, 208. 
serpent. Its appearance in several places. .570. 

Se.iboard destruction by the memorable gale. 2<',8. 

Sealed paper handed Benton by Randolph before the 
duel, 28S. 



INDEX. 



999 



Sealing their fate at Cemetery Hill, confederate troops, 

832. 
Search by Americans for Sir John Franklin, the lost 

navigator, 533. 

— for Dr. Parknian, the missing millionaire, 524. 

— made for stars during the total solar eclipse, 201. 
Seat of government, plans for the locntion of the, 168. 

the U. S. government at New York, 142. 

war transferred frum the South to the North, 

Seating himself in the felon's dock, Prof. Webster, 

527. 
Seclusion of Japan broken into. 592. 
Second advent of Christ predicted, 431. 

— chapter in the Burdell-Cunningham tragedy, 631. 
Secret of the gold findings disclosed through whiskey, 

505. 
Secretary Upshur's instant and awful death, 441. 
Sectarian prejudice and disputation ignored by Mr. 

iMoody, 061. 
Sei-ular pursuits abandoned during the "Dark Day," 

89. 
Sedgwick, Theodore, president of the N. Y. Association 

of the Industry of All Nations, 602. 
— 's, Gen., corps at Gettysburg, 834. 
Seditions, violent, in New England, after the revolution- 
ary war, 126. 
Seduction of Mrs. Sickles by P. B. Key, tragical result of 

the, 690. 
Seizure of Burr's flotilla, 207. 
Selection of Mr. Brooks as their champion by aggrieved 

Southerners, 618. 
Seminole Indians, war with, 147. 
Semmes, Captain, in command of the Alabama, 851; 

fights and is sunk by the Kearsarge, 856. 
Sending John Monissey to congress, 682; his modest and 

gentlemanly bearing there, 688. 
Seneca Indians, war wiib the, 146. 
Sensation of a Pemberton Mills operative on seeing the 

vast structure giving way, 726. 

— produced by the murder of Helen Jewett, 634. 
— , unprecedented, in the religi<ms world, 448. 

Sent to the bottom at last, the Alabama, 856. 

Sentence of the conspirators against Pres. Lincoln, 

898. 
September gale, the ever-memorable, 264. 
Sepulchral scene in the presidential East room, 445. 
Sequel to a life of infamy, 634. 
Series of victorious battles, Grant's, 818. 
Serious objection, supposed, to Whitney's cotton-gin, 

157. 
Services of Aaron Burr to his country. 190. 
Setting up his government at Danville, Jeff. Davis, 

864. 
Settling some matters of ceremony with the Japanese, 

504. 
Seven circles by the Alabama and Kearsarge around 

each other, 855. 
Seven days' deliberation of the Brooklyn jury, 950. 
from New York to San Francisco, 914. 

— fine children and their parents jump from the burn- 
ing ship, 676. 

— States secede from the Union and form a Southern 
Confederacy, 771. 

— years' labor, the Boston organ the result of. 844. 
Seventeen British ensigns disappear in two hours, 

256. 
Seventy-five thousand volunteers called for by Pres. 

Lincoln, 771. 
three miles of streets burned in Chicago. 929. 

— tons, weight of the great Boston organ, 848. 
Severe denunciation of the U. S. bank by Pres. Jackson, 

374, 



Seward, Hon. W. H., Payne's attempt to assassinate, 
897. 

Sewing-machine, the, constructed at last, 466. 

Shadowing forth the new political doctrine, 321. 

Shaking hands before the figlit, 682. 
with their late leader, Lee's officers, 883. 

Shays's rebellion in Massachusetts, 125; suppressed by 
Gen. Lincoln, 131. 

"She sings like one immortal!"— applied to Jenny 
Lind, 542. 

Sheet of tire and death covering the British at New Or- 
leans, 2GI. 

Sheridan, Gen., at Five Forks, 879. 
— 's splendid military capacity, 878. 

Sherman's grand march through the South, 868. 

Shifting his flag in the midst of battle, 238. 

Ship Arctic deserted by her crew, 610. 

— of war changed to a ship of peace, 481. 
mimed in honor of Lafayette, 281. 

Shippen, Miss, her betrothal to Benedict Arnold, 98. 
Ships Serapis and Bon Homme Richard meeting each 

other, 82. 
Shock and '■ glory " of war on a colossal scale, 803. 
— s of earthquake, 224. 

Shooting stars, wonderful November shower of, 329. 
Shore-end of the ocean telegraph cable, laying of at 

Valentia Bay. 904. 
Short work, Gibbs's, with his captured crews, 317. 
Shot in the breast, Senator Broderick, 710. 
Shouting for the passing vessel 638. 
Shovel used in moving the first earth for the Union 

Pacific railroad. 909. 
Shower of meteoric bodies all over the land, 335. 
Showing the first grains of gold to Mr. Suiter, 505. 
Shrieks of horror at the wonderful meteoric display, 

330. 
Shrouding the land in mourning, April 15, 1865, 892, 
Shuddering at the name of Gibbs, 314. 
Shunning the magistrates, prize-fighters. 682. 
" Sic semper tyrannis !" Booth's tragical shout, 890. 
Sick man's help, a, in battle, 237. 
Sickles, Hon. Daniel E., his homicide of P. B. Key, 

689. 
Side-light scenes in our country's history, 12. 
Sierra mountain tops, first railroad across the, 908. 

— Nevada, expedition to the, 405. 
Sighting the first gun before battle, 254. 

Signals of defiance from the frigate Guerriere, 228. 
Signing his name for the last time, Pres. Lincoln, 889. 

— the Declaration of Independence, 71. 
Federal Constitution. 137. 

temperance pledge, 400. 

treaty, Japanese and American commissioners, 

598. 
Silencing Mr. Beecher, attempts of Er^gli^h mobs at, 

838. 
SilHman. Prof., his opinion of the origin of petroleum, 
705. 

— , — , his scientific observation, 379. 
Similarities in the career of Adams and Jefferson. 291. 
Si.nnii Boojsen Nokami and Mooragaki Awajsi Nokami, 

Japanese ambassadors, 738. ■ 

Simple accident that led to finding California gold, 504. 

— principle of the electric telegraph, 346. 

Simpson, Bishop, devotional exercises by, at the centen- 
nial exposition, 952 

Simultaneous deaths of ex-Presidents John Adams and 
Thoma.'i Jefferson, 291. 

— shriek of agony from five hundred voices, 636. 
Singer's loan of forty dollars; his subsequent princely 

wealth, 469. 
Singing the Grand Hallelujah Chorus at the World's 
Fair, 605. 



1000 



INDEX. 



Singing the " Old Hundredth Psalm " at the centennial, 

%o. 

" Sink-holes," remarkable, fonned by the western earth- 
quake, 222. 

Sinking of the ill-fated Guerrlere, 22a. 
noble steamship Arctic stern foremost, GIO. 

— — wells for petroleum, 700. 

Sisterly devotion displayed at the Chicago condagra- 

tion, 930. 
Site for a national capital, Washington's preference, 

169. 
Six feet of water in the streets during the great Sept. 

gale, 268. 

— hearses at the White House, 4J5. 

— hundred thousand temperance converts, 400. 

— months in court, tbe Beecher trial, Ol.'i. 
' labor ill a garret, Howe's, 4GG. 

— reformed drunkards, the, of Baltimore, 395. 

— tliousand teams engaged on the Pacilic railroad, 908. 
voices, the capacity of the Boston organ, 817. 

Sixteen hours* raging fire iii N. Y., in midwinter, 35.'}. 
Sixty centuries of human advancement illustrated at 
Philadelphia, 952. 
live acres of massive structures consumed in Bos- 
ton, 936. 
seven degrees below zero, .>.'>6. 

— thousand dollars paid for the great Boston organ, 
845. 

voices cheering General Grant, 918. 

Size and profusion of the Nov. meteors, 336. 

— of Wasliington's linilis, 180. 
Slaughter of tbe innocents, r)07. 

Slaves liberated by Pres, Lincoln's proclamation, 807. 

Sleeiiing on tbe Held of victory, 803. 

slight source of a wholesale horror, ,5G8. 

.Slocum's wing in Sherman's army, 871 

Sm;dl amount of gold in the wot Id prior to the Cali- 
fornia findings, 503. 

Smalley's account of tbe battle Of Antietam, 805. 

SmartiTig of the hands and face caused by the Dead Sea 
waters, 497. 

Sniitli, rJosepb, founder of tlie Mormon sect, 307. 

Smithsonian Institute, exhibit of at the centennial, 
958. 

Social customs in former times, 391. 

— intercourse suspended during the yellow fever panic, 
518. 

— trageily in Brooklyn, N. Y., 915. 
"Society of California Pioneers," 501. 

"Society of the Cincinnati," song sung by Hamilton 

before the, 192. 
Solar eclipse, total, at mid-day, 19G. 
Solemnities on board tbe Somers after the executions, 

423. 

Solemnity Inspired by the total solar eclipse, 199. 
Solicitude of the telegraph layers on board the Great 

Eastern, 903. 
Solid granite warehouses consumed by tlie hundreds in 

Boston, 9,')2. 
Solitary event in American naval history, 415. 
Solving the mystery of the spirit rappings, 473. 
Somers mutiny, tbe tragedy of the, 1 1.">. 
Sonora tillibustering expedition under Gen. Walker, 

748. 
Sore trials of inventors and public benefactors, 467. 
Sorrow and anguish among the Austria's five hundred 

souls, 670. 
Soune of national wealth and industry, new, (;9S. 
South Carolina, enthu^i;ism in, at the passage of the 

Declaration of Indo])eiidence, C9. 
nullificati.in outbreak. .320. 

— Piuss, Fremont's party at the. 403. 

— Pole expedition, Wilkes's, 386. 



Southern Confederacy, establishment of, 765. 
— strides in wealth, after the cottuu-giu invention, 
159. 

Souvenirs for bis friends, Randolph's, in case of deaUi, 
285. 

Sovereigns of Industry. 943. 

Sovereignty of tbe State, supreme, claimed in South 
Caroliua, 320. 

Spain acknowledges the independence of the U. S . 71. 

Spangler. trial of for assassination conspiracy, 897. 

Spanning the Atlantic ocean with the telegraph cable, 
901. 

Sparkling tribute from John Bright to Mr. Field's tele- 
graphic tiiuniph. 906. 

Special request that the fatal Stockton gun be flred, 
442. 

Speciflc day fixed for tbe end of tlie world. 437. 

Spectroscopic discoveries during the total solar eclipse, 
201. 

Speculating in " fancies." 001. 

Speecli of Daniel Webster in reply to Hayne, 300. 

at the laying of the corner-stone of the 

Bunker Hill monument, 270. 

Dr. Franklin before the convention for fonning 

the Federal Constitution, 136. 

Gen. Walker, before being shot, 7."i.1. 

Gen. Washington, biilding adieu to the army, 

116. 

, resigning his commission, 117. 

John Adams advocating Washington's nomina- 
tion, 113. 

on being presented to King George, 123; and 

llio King's reply, 123. 

John Brown in court, on bis conviction, 720. 

John Quincy Adams defending the right of peti- 
tion, 369. 

King George acknowledging American Independ- 
ence. 121. 

Lord Chatham advocating America's cause, 70. 

. against America, 70. 

Patrick Henry, on American Independence, 66. 

Mr. Kvarts, orator at the national centennial cel- 
ebration, %0. 

Pres. Grant at the centennial Inauguration core- 
monies, 952. 

John Quincy Adams, on Lafayette's departure, 

280. 

Preston S. Brooks in his defense, G23. 

tlie ambassador fioru .Japan to Pres. Buchanan, 

739; tbe ju-esidcnl's reply, 7.'{9. 

Washingloii, at bis iiiaugunition. 144. 

Speechless and unconscious after the fatal shot, Pres. 

Lincoln, S91. 
Speedy f ulliilment of the earth's destiny predieteil. 4^1. 
Spell-bound by .Jenny Liiid's musical power, 5t6. 
Spikes of the richest gold used in finishing the Paclltc 

railroad, 911. 
Spiritual Knockisos and Tadle-Tipi'Ings, 472- 

477. 
(For topical and anahjticai details, see Jirst patje o/ tkis 

Spirituous liquors, Washington's opinion of, .393. 
Splendor of tbe N. Y. Industrial K.xbibition, 007. 

national capitol, 172. 

Splicing tbe telegraph cable in mid-ocean, 903. 
Spontaneous desire for Washington as first president, 
1.39. 

— uprising of tbe loyal people, 771. 
Spontaneoiisness of tlie great religious awakening, 654. 
Spot where Senator Broderick fell. 707. 

Spots of solemn beauty on tbe banks of tbe Jordan, 
496. 

— on the sun observed before the total eclipse, 200, 



INDEX. 



1001 



Spread of the Boston fire in all directions, 933. 
temperance reform, 398. 

Springfield, Mass., Shays's dispersion of the court in, 
130 

Springing a leak, the steamer Central America, 636. 

Squadron combat between America and England, 234. 

Squ ire talk by Farragut concerning his country's ene- 
mies, 8G5. 

St. Louis, disastrous fire in, 353. 
, the Prince of Wales a guest of the city of, 758. 

Stakes between the great prize-tighters, GSi. 

Standards by the score captured at Gettysburg, 834. 

Standing by the batteries. 831. 

— in Independence Hal], Kossuth, 589. 

Stands of colors presented by congress to Washing- 
ton, no. 

Stanton, Secretary, at the death-bed of Pres. Lincoln, 
891. 

Star actors, English and American, tragical feud be- 
tween, 508. 

"Star Spangled Banner*' composed by the elder Mr. 
Key, 6911. 

Stark's defeat of the British, at Bennington, 75. 

— spurs at the centennial, 958. 

" Stars of destiny," Gen. Walker's belief in, 748. 
Stars seen through the comet's train, 429. 

— visible during the eclipse, 197. 

State occasions, dress of Washington on, 180. 
street. Boston, treasures of, reached by the great 

fire, 933. 
Statements of eye-witnesses of the sea-serpent, 577. 
States and cities conquered by Gen. Sherman without a 

serious battle, 868. 
Statesmen and sages in council, 133. 
Stature and physique, Washington's magnificent, 180, 
Steam successfully applied to navigation. 215. 
Steamer Central America, foundering o£E Cape Hat- 

teras, 635. 

— Mississippi conveys Kossuth to America, 586. 
Steamship Arctic, loss of, 608. 

— Austria, burning of the, on her way from Hamburg to 
New York, 673. 

— Great Eastern, arrival and exhibition of in the U. S., 
748. 

Steel prow of the ISIerrimac, terrible havoc made by the, 

791. 
Steers, George, designs the famous yacht America, 559. 
Stephens, Alex. H., his defense of the U.S. government, 

764. 
Stevens, Com. J. C., in command of the yacht America, 

558. 
Stevenses, the, their success in steam-boat experiments, 

217. 
Stigma of '* blackleg" applied by Randolph to Clay, 

283. 
Stockton's great gun " the Peacemaker," explosion of, 

439. 
Stores and gtins, supplying the Alabama with, 853. 
Storming of Vicksburg abandoned, 818. 
Storrs, R. S.. centennial orator in New York. 964. 
Story of Gibbs, the pirate, as told by himself. 318. 
the plaintiff and defendant in the Beecher trial, 

949. 
Strain endured by Rarey in his contests with wild horses, 

779. 
Straining his eyes toward Fort McAllister, Sherman, 

874. 
Slrandingof a young sea-serpent on the coast, 581. 
Strange and beautiful omen before the Lake Champlain 

battle. 253. 
threatening motion of the comet, 425. 

— theories of the cause of the " Dark Day," 95. 
Strategic importance of Vicksburg in the war, 824. 



Strauss's orchestra at the international musical festival, 
923. 

Stray document in the convention for framing the Fed- 
eral Constitution. 135. 

Street encounter between Sickles and Key, 692. 
— s and avenues of Washington, magnificence of the, 
172. 

Strength of the American and British fleets on Lake 
Champlain, 252. 

confederate forces at Bull Run, unexpected, 

781. 

Strengthening the federal capital on the breaking out of 
the rebellion, 771. 

Stringent statutes enacted against prize-fighting, 681, 

Strong gale prevailing at the Chicago fire, 925. 

Struck down in Lis seat in tlie senate chamber, 616. 
the zenith of fame, 455. 

Strcggle for the Right of Petition in Congress, 
362-372. 

(For topical and analytical details, see jirst page of this 
Event.) 

Struggles of Eli Whitney to secure his cotton-gin inven- 
tion, 157. 

Stuart's picture of Gen. Washington saved fi'om the Brit- 
ish torch, 248. 

Stubborn bravery of the Hartford and Tennessee, 863. 

Studying the principle of steam navigation, 213. 

Style of " sport " in the prize-ring, 683, 

Subjugation of New England sought by England in 
1814. 250. 

Sublime and inspiiing harmonies from ten thousand 
voices, 917. 

Sublime Meteoric Shower all over the United 
States, 329-336. 

(For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page of this 
Event.) 

Submerged plains at the Dead Sea bottom, 498. 

Submergence of hills -and islands during the western 
earthquake, 221. 

Submission of the Barbary States to America, 188. 

Submitting the proclamation of emancipation to the 
cabinet, 809. 

Subsisting bis army on the enemy's country, Sherman, 
870. 

Substitute for grog, Farragut's, 401. 
middlemen in trade, grangers', 939, 

Substituting corn for guns, 482. 

Success of Whitney's cotton-gin invention, 156. 

SrccESSFOL Laying of the Telegraph Cable 
across the Atlantic Ocean, 899-906. 

(For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page of this 
Event.) 

Succession of vivid auroras and parhelias in the Arctic, 
535. 

Successive great and terrible waves drag the Central 
America under, 635. 

Successor to Franklin in pleading the cause of the Re- 
public, 836. 

Succumbing of Downie's fleet to McDonough, 256. 

Sucked in by the whirlpool, 637. 

Sudden and tumultuous force of the great gale, 267. 

Sodden Appearance of a Great and Fiery Comet 
IN THE Skies at Noonday, 424-429. 

(For topical and analytical details, see Jirst page qf this 
Event.) 

Sufferings of war ameliorated by ether, 459. 

Suffocating crowds at the Beecher trial. 945. 

Suffocation of birds during the " Dark Day," 89. 
nearly fifty children to death, 573. 

Suffrage movement in Rhode Island, principles of, 
411. 

Suicide attempted by Prof. Webster ou being arrested, 
52T. 



1002 



INDEX. 



Suicide rather than death by burning, 728. 

Suit of clothes, machine niaile, the iirst ever worn, 4ti6. 

Sulphuric etbtir as an anaesthetic, 4.37. 

Sultan, the, his courtesies to Lieut. Lynch's partj*, 495. 

Summary of the spiendid achievements of Dr. Kane's 

party, 538. 
Summit of the Cordilleras, the unbroken and oppressive 

silence at, 388. 
Sumner, Charles, assault upon, 616. 
Sumptuous banquet given by congress to Kossuth, 589. 
Sumter, Fort, its bombardment and reduction, 7&4. 
Sun, total eclipse of, 196. 
Sunday's battle off Cherbourg. 852 
Sunken country', at the west, caused by the earthquake, 

223. 
Sunny excitement and delight all over the land produced 

by Jenny Lind's tour. 541. 
Superb naval tactics of Com. John Paul Jones, 86. 
Supernatural pretensions of Smithithe Mormon leader, 

307. 
Supply of petroleum oil for the whole world, 703. 
Supplies of men and money by France, for the colonics, 

80. 
Supposed fire in a N. Y. school-house, dreadful panic 

caused by a, 568. 
Supreme crisis in the fate of the nation, 771. 

— rank of General conferred upon U. S. Grant, 885. 
Surgery-tortures no longer necessary, 456. 
Sunnounling the works at Vicicsburg, Illinois troops, 820. 
Surprise of St. Clair's army by the Indians, 148. 
Surnitt, John H., trial of, for assassination conspiracy, 

898. 

— , Mrs., trial and execution of. for conspiracy-, 898. 
Surrender of Lee's great army to General Grant, 883. 
Survey of the river Jordan, 496. 
Suspension from office of the Bishop of N. Y., 454. 

— of banks all over the land, CAS. 

business during the earthquake, 223. 

Sutter's Mill, Cal., discovery of gold at, 504. 

Swallowing a bitter pill, 328. 

Swamping of the Austria's boats, C74. 

Swamps, hill.<?, quagmires, storms and floods, overcome 
by Sherman's army. 875. 

Swarming of felons in California, in its early history, 
550. 

Swarms of bold robbers at the fire, 358. 

Sweden acknowledges the independence of America, 
71. 

"Swedish Nightingale,** the, name applied to Jenny 
Lind. 541. 

Swffp of Sherman's armed columns, 871. 

Sweet and tender devotion of the little ones in the 
school-house panic, 570. 

Swift and terrible destruction of frigates by the iron- 
clad Alerrimac, 79*2. 
executions in California. 552. 

Sword presented by Frederick the Great to Gen. Wash- 
ington, 180. 

Sympathetic meetings in Senator Sumner's behalf, 621. 



T. 



Table-tippings and knockings. 472. 
Tiibleau-x of a centurj**8 history. 12. 
" Take the life of no one, if possible,*' John Brown's 

order. 716. 
Taking his countrymen by the hand. 588. 
— off Andre's boots, 100. 

) on Fulton's first steam-boat, 216. 



Taking the blame to himself. Gen. Walker, 755. 

oath, Washington, at his inauguration. 144. 

Talk of an American with the emperor of Japan, 699. 

Tampering with a man of honor, 416. 

Tariff discussions and strife, :i2t. 

Tarrings and featherings in the Penn. insurrection. 161. 

Task of uniting the old world and new by telegraph 

cable, 903. 
Taunts and curses of the anti-Union mobs in En- 
gland, 838. 
Taylor, Bayard, bis centennial ode, 960. 

— , Gen., his unbroken series of victorious battles, 490, 
Te Deuvis sung in Southern churches for battles won, 

788. 
Teachings of the Mormon bible, 308. 
Tearing up Gen. Shernifin's protest. Gen. Grant, 825 
Tears and mourning, a whole nation in, ^92. 

— shed by Cornwallls, at the f:ite before him, 107. 
Tecumseh, Indian chief, war with, 147. 

'■ Teetotalism," origin of, 314. 

Telegram to Pres. Grant announcing the completion of 

the Pacific railroad, 912. 
Telegraph cable successfully laid across the bed of the 

Atlantic, 904. 
— , invention of the electric, 345. 
Telegraphing his fate to Jeff Davis, Gen. Lee, 884. 

— religious tidings during the great revival, 656. 
Telescopic instruments, splendid, used in observing the 

eclipse, 199. 

"Tell Gen Bumside that this is the battle of the war," 
McClellan's message, 803. 

Telling his own story. Gen. Sherman. 868 

Temperance reformation, the, breaking out and progress 
of. 39;{. 

Temple erected by the Mormons, 313. 

Tempor.-iry rescue from the hands of the vigilance com- 
mittee. 554. 

Ten hours of chess with eight opponents, Morphy's tri- 
umphant game of. utlS. 

niillion-dollar mass of silver at the centennial, 

958. 

— thousand persons assembled to welcome Jenny 
Lind's arrival, 545. 

— thousand persons present at Moody and Sankey's 
first meetinj; in Phila., 6C4 

— thousand singers in the coliseum at Boston, 919. 

— years of difficulty and failure in ocean telegraphy 
conquered at last, 904. 

Tendency of the phenomena of spiritualism, 476. 
Tender but strong hands, 727. 

— treatment of Mrs. Benedict Arnold by Washington, 
103. 

Tennessee, Admiral Buchanan's monster ram. 8G4. 
Tent of Washington, reception of Lafayette In the, 

277. 
Tenuity of the meteors in the great November display, 

332. 
Termination of the second war with England, 257. 
Terms of adjustment t> be arranged by gunpowder, 488. 
surrender allowed by Grant to I^e, 882. 

TERRini.E CitlSIS IN THE BCStNESS AM> FINANCIAL 

World. 644-652. 
{For topical and anahjtlcal (Utails^ seejirst page of this 

Event.) 
Terrible Fire in the Blsiness Heart of Boston, 

931-937. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Terror inspired abroad by John Paul Jones's naval ex- 
ploits, 82. 
— , reign of, In Pennsylvania, during the whiskey In-, 
surrectlon, 163. 
Terry, Gen., his achievements at Fort Fisher, 867. 



INDEX. 



1003 



Terry, Judge, fatally wounds Senator Broderick in a 

duel, 710. 
Test in breaking horses, Mr. Rarey's explanation of bis, 

775. 
Testimony given by Senator Sumner relating to Brooks's 

assault, 619. 
Testing a treaty on the spot, 598. 
Thanksgiving appointed for Southern victories, 788. 
Ttiat " one touch of nature," 009. 
*' The battle of the war," 803. 
"The Drum," Hamilton's favorite song, 192. 
The Ever-Memorable Septe.mber Gale, 1815,264- 

271. 
For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
" The fate of the ship i^hall be mine," G14, 
"The Federal Union: it Must be l*reserved-," Jackson's 

toast, 321. 
The ** Great Awakexixg " in the Religious 

World IN 1857; ajud the Popular Revival Move- 
ment (IN 1875-6) UNDER Messrs. Moodv and 

Sankey, 653~€Go. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
The "Great Debate" between Webster and 

Hayne, in Congress, 297-305. 
(/or topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
'*The Great Panic,'' G44. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
The National Grange Movement, 938-944. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
" The Pathfinder," Fremont's well-earned title of, 402. 
" The i^hip is on fire ! '* — panic cry on every hand, G74. 
The solitary bumble-bee on the Rocky Mountain 

peak, 404, 
" The Star Spangled Banner, " circumstances of its 

composition, 249. 
'* The Washington of the Seas,'* John Paul Jones's 

title, 8L 
Theater, Ford's, scene of horror on the night of the 

assassination in, 891. 

— in Richmond, Va., burning of the. 354. 

— of war transferred from the South to the Xorth, 
626. 

— turned into a house of prayer, G58. 

Theodosia, Burr's daughter, her devotion to him, 210; 

mysterious fate of, 211. 
Theories as to the origin and source of petroleum, 705. 

— of Agassiz, Herscbel, etc., concerning spiritual 
manifestations, 475. 

Thermometer, fall of the, during the total solar eclipse, 

201. 
Third street, Philadelphia, during the great panic, G46. 
Thirteen handled miles traveled in the open air by 

Kane's party, 5^8. 
Thirty hours' tornado of fire in all directions at Chicago, 

929. 

— minutes required by Hull to capture the Guerriere, 
229. 

— years' history of spiritualism, 477. 

Thomas, Gen., defense of the bonier States by, 870. 

Threatening letter sent by Arnold to Washington, 102. 

Three cheers for a brave leader, 490. 

Three Days* Battle between the Concen- 
trated Armies of Generals Meadi: and Lee, 
AT Gettysburg, Tenn.. 82G-S35. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event.) 

Three days* chase of the Constitution by British vessels, 



Three decks of the Austria instantly become a sheet of 
fire, (74. 

— fair and beautiful corpses tight together, 728. 
" Three hearty cheers for the flag," 423. 

— hours' minute and deliberate examination of the 
sea-serpent, 580. 

— hours' straggle with an English audience, Beecher's, 
838. 

— miles of troops in flight at Bull Run, 784. 

— plunges and the noble ship sinks. 6;t7. 

— years' illness of Senator Sumner, G25. 

parliamentarj- struggle, Benton's, in the U. S- 

seuate, 375. 
Thrill of ecstasy at the sight of a vessel, 638. 
enthusiastic joy at the success of the ether dis- 
covery, 457. 
Thronging crowds to hear Mr. Webster's reply to 

Hayne, 299. 
Throwing away his purse of gold while drowning, 614. 

— up the sponge in token of defeat, (,86. 

Throws his sword away and jumps overboard, Capt. 

Semmes, 856. 
Thunder of American guns before Tripoli, 182. 
Tickets to Jenny Lind's conceits, highest priced. 546. 
Ticonderoga, investment of, by Gen. Burgnjne, 74. 
Tide of emigration to California from all countries, 

501. 

— seventeen feet higher than usual during tlie New 
England gale, 2G7. 

— , vast and unprecedented, during the great flood, 

269. 
Tidings of Washington's death, 174. 
Ties of affection sundered while the cholera prevailed, 

517. 
Tilton, Theodore, his charges against H. W. Beerher, 

945. 
Time, manner, and circumstances of the first spirit 

knockings. 473. 

— -marks in our earlier history, 10. 

— to test the strength of the Constitution, 325. 
Timely witticism of a secretary of war, 442. 
Times that tried men's souls, 12. 
Tippecanoe, battle of, 152. 

,,'Tis well," Washington's last words, 177. 

Title given the president by the Japanese visitors, 737. 

Tohopeka, battle of, 152. 

Toils of the sewing-machine inventor. 4C6. 

Tokens of honor received by Fremont for his exploring 
achievements, 402. 

Tolling of the vigilance committee's signal bell, 552. 

*' Tom the Tinker," insurgent leader in Penn., 103. 

Tomb of Washington, 178; visited by Lafayette, 280. 
— s and graves consumed in the appalling fire at Chi- 
cago, 926. 

Tomes. Dr.. his admirable historical delineations. 236. 

Tommy, the ladies' pet among the Japanese visitors, 738, 

Tone, countenance, and manner peculiar to Webster, 
302. 

Too busy to be marrying people in times of epidemic, 
520. 

Topical or classified list of events in this volume, 49. 

Torch of the British vandals at Washington, 248. 

Tories, American, in the revolutionary war, 69. 

Torrent of rain for forty hours, 271. 

Torture and death in every form, 676. 

Total revolution in naval warfare by the Monitor's suc- 
cess, 797. 

Total Solar Eclipse at Mid-Dav. 196-203. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
Event.) 

Touching reply of Captain Herndon's wife. 643. 

— request of a djing girl in the midst of the ruins, 
729. 



1UU4 



INDEX. 



Touching scene between Washington and his comrades- 

in-ai-ni^, IIG. 
Tour of 5,000 iuile>, Lafayette's, in America, 280. 
Toun OF His Roval HuaixEss, Aliikut Kdward, 

Pni.NCE OK Wales, TUBoiGHTUii U.mted States, 

"oO-TC*. 
(For topical and analylical ilelails, see flrtt page of Ihit 

Event.) 
Towers, domes and sculptures, of the great Boston or- 

g.in, 818. 
Towns and cities springing up in the oil regions, 698. 
Traces of Sir Jolin Fninklin's ineliucholy fate, 531. 
Tracing the .Jordan to it-H source, 49.5. 
Trade-customs' reform <lenianded by the grangers, 941. 
Tragical death of Smilli,theMormon leader, 31-'. 

— fate of the conspirators against Pres. Lincoln's life, 
898. 

Train of cars on the lop of the Sierras, the first, 908. 
Training for the prize-ring, t!8J. 

Trans-Atlantic steam navigation, inauguration of, 742. 
Transcendent beauty and power of Jenny Liud's sing- 
ing. .542. 

— cli.'iplcr in human history, 7. 
Traus-contlnental railroad, successful construction of 

the. 912. 

Transferred from the prize-ring to the halls of con- 
gress, <;82. 

Transition from gaiety to anguish in a moment, 410. 
joy to sorrow, the nation's, July 4, 182(3, 291. 

Translating the Mormon bible, 307. 

Transmissive property of the electric spark discovered, 
34«. 

Transports of joy on the surrender of Lee's army, 885. 

Trapping an unsuspecting official, iillibusters, 749. 

Treading the children under foot on the burning ship, 
(i74. 

TllEASON OF MAJOB-GENEBAL BEKEDICT ARSOLD, 

97-103. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event,) 
Treatment of Gen. Burgoyne by King George, after his 

surrender, 80. 
Treaty of peace and commerce brought by Japanese 

ambas-sadors in 1800, 732. 
between the United States and Great Britain, 

257. 
Tree planted by the Prince of Wales at Washington's 

tomli, 7."i9. 

— twelve feet in girth uprooted by the September gale, 
26.->. 

TUE.MEXDOL-S FiRE IN NEW YORK CiTY, 353-361. 

(For lojiical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Tremulous signature to the emancipation proclamation. 

Pres. Lincoln's explanation of, 810. 
Trenton, battle of, 114 
Trepidiition behind the scenes, 512. 
Trestle at Secrettown on the Pacific railroad, 909. 
Trial AND Deobadatiok ok I'wo Bisnops, for Im- 
morality, ETC., 448-455. 
(For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 

Event.) 
Trial of Aaron Burr for conspiracy, '2M. 

Hon. D. 10. Sickles for murder,and bis triumphant 

acquittal, **.91. 

.lolin Brown for treason and murder, 720; his con- 
viction, 720; is hung, 722. 

John C. Colt for the murder of Samuel Adams, 

531. 

Mrs. Cunningham for the murder of I>r. Burdell, 

626-634. 
Prof. Webster for the murder of Dr. Parkman, 



Trial of Rev. H. W. Beecber for alleged adultery with 

Sirs. Tilton, 94.V9.50. 
— Richard Lawrence, for attempted assassination, 

Ml. 
Richard P. Robinson, charged with tie murder 

of Helen Jewell, ('..W 

Tbos. W. Dorr, for treason, 413. 

the assassination conspirators, 897. 

— s of the early California emigrants, 506. 
Tribute by Lord Chatham to the con}:ress at Philadel- 
phia. 70. 
Trifling with an old .sailor's loyalty, 800. 
'Trinity cliurcb, Boston, destruction of, by fire, 933. 
, N. Y., its gift of a Bible to the Prince of Wales, 

700. 
Trip of the little Monitor from New Y'ork, 793. 
Tripolitan ship-of-war strikes to the American flag, 183. 
Tripped by the flag of his country, the assas.sin Booth, 

890. 
Triumphal journey of Washington to New York to be 

inaugurated Pres;dent, 142. 
Troops listening to the reading of the Declaration of 

Indepetidence, (18. 
Trophies of Gen. Gates's victory at Saratoga, 78. 
Truce requested by Gen. Pemberton, 821. 
Trust commit'ed to Farragut by his country. 860. 
Truxillo, lauding of Gen. Walker's men at, 7.52. 
Trying to identify streets after the Boston lire, 936, 
Turning the tide of fortune, the little Monitor, 795. 
Twelve thousand tons' weight of the Great Eastern, 

746. 

— years' old chess-player beating Herr Lowenthal, 
CGC. 

Twi-nty-fivo thousand men employed in building the 
Paiilic railroad, 908. 

— sudden anil teniblc blows on Senator Sumner's 
head, 017. 

— thousand rioters surrounding the N. Y opera-bouse, 
514. 

spectators, breathless and excited, witness the 

vigilance committee's executions, .557. 

tons' burden, the Great JOaslern's measurement, 

743. 

voices in sublime choruses, 922. 

Two days' speech, Hayne's against Mr. Webster, 298. 

— — watch for .Senator Sumner, 618. 

— fads underlying Mor.se's discovery, 346. 

— hundred persons viewing the sea-serpent, .580. 

— little babes on board the Central America, the, 
C42. 

— names, the, ever fresh in American gratitude, 272. 

— paidcs— 1837 and UTm — comparison of the. 044. 

— powerful bishops suspended from their office, 448. 

— thousand acres devastated by lire in Chicago, 9-'9. 
men extricating the PenilK-ilon sulbrers. 729. 

Tycoon of Japan, President Buchanan's letter to the, 

7:!9. 
Tying himself among the tigging, Farragut, 866. 



U. 



Unanimous choice of Washington, as president of the 

r. s., 140. 

— request by congress to Lafayette to revisit Ameiica, 

Unbounded joy pro<lnced at the South by Whilncy's cot- 
ton-gin, 1.56. 

■' Uncertainty struggling against certainty," tribute to 
Morphy's chess playing. 608. 

•■ Uncontlitional surrender," Grant's terms, 622. 



INDEX. 



1005 



Uncontrollable panic and headlong flight at Bull Run. 

781. 
Undaunted heroism of John Quincy Adams, in congress, 

3b7. 
Under oath, Mr. Beecher's solemn denials, 950. 
■' Under the proteelion of the flag," 257. 
Undertaker and John Brown, conversation between the, 

721. 
Undismayed demeanor of Jlacready when assaulted on 

the stage, 509. 
Undying bravery of the troops at Gett3-sburg, 83*J. 
Uuexptjcted international embrace, Prince of Wales in 

an, 760. 
Unfurling the stars and stripes from the Jlexican nation- 
al palace, 493. 
Unbeard-of casualty on the ocean in the case of the 

Arctic, 609. 
Unification of the Republic, 9CS. 
Union men on a visit to Pres. Jackson, 328, 

— of nearly forty great States in 1876, 951. 

square. N. Y., magnificent centennial display in, 9G4. 

United States Grix>'el,l Expeditions to the 

Arctic Seas, 533-540. 
{Foi' topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
United States, the, an Independent Nation, 65, 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Ei-ent.) 
United States' " tribute" to Barbary, 182. 
Universal heart touched by these events, 11. 
Unmistakable British origin of the Alabama, 852. 
Unmoved amidst the tempest, 3GG. 
Unobserved appro.ich of Brooks to Sumner, 619. 
Unparalleled conflagration in the history of civilization, 

at Chicago, 924. 

— gale since the settlement of the country, 264. 
Unprecedented spectacle in the halls of legislation, 364. 
Unprovoked destruction of Washington's property by 

the British. 247. 
Umcivaled Performances by Paul Morphy, the 

American Chess Champion, 666-673. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Unrivaled tactics of the frigate Constitution, 220. 
Unscrupulous character of Aaron Burr, 191. 
Unselfish cry of a little girl in the Pemberton Mills 

ruins, 729. 
Unsheathing his sword to the president's niece, 738. 
Unswerving fidelity to the old flag, 860. 
Unusual appearance of the water during the "Dark 

Day," 91. 
Upham, Dr., his grand conception of a great organ, 

844. 
Upwards of one hundred witnesses in the Beecher case, 

948. 

thou>;and sewing-machine patents, 470. 

Urgent appeals to Washington to accept the presidency, 

140. 
Use of a U. S. ship granted by congress to carry food to 

Ireland, 481 
"Useless, useless!"— last words of the assassin Booth, 

897. 
Uses discovered for petroleum, 706. 

— of the telegraph. morally considered, 905. 
Ushering in the centennial ceremonies, OHO. 
Utah, the " Promised Land " of Mormondom, 312. 



Vain efforts to reconcile the North an<l South, 765. 
— predictions of the enemies of free government, 8. 



Valentia, laying the shore-end of the ocean telegraph at, 
904. 

Valley of the shadow of death, 485. 

Valor displayed in terminating the great civil conflict, 878. 

A'aluable improvements and modifications of the sewing- 
machine, 469. 

Vanguards of the Gettysburg armies in action, 828. 

Vapors, peculiar, during the " Dark Day," 91. 

Various effects of the inhalation of ether, 460. 

Vaunted wager of battle from Cornwallis, 104. 

Veiled statue in marble, beauty of the, 606. 

Velocity of the falling meteors, Nov. 30, 1833, 336. 

Venango county oil designated on ancient maps, 698. 

Venerable prelates charged with immorality, 448. 

Vengeance of an outraged community, 552. 

Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, battles of, 488. 

Verdict in the trial of Lawrence, the would-be assassin 
of Pres. Jackson. 344. 

Vermilion tinge to nature given by the famous aurora 
borealis, 383. 

Vessels driven through the streets, during the great 
gale, 205. 

Vetoing the bill for chartering the U. S. bank, 374. 

Vicissitudes of Burr's career, 209. 

Vicksbiug, Miss., besieged and captured by Gen. Grant, 
817. 

Victor Emanuel, king of Italy, his centennial saluta- 
tions, 967. 

Victoria acknowledging the kindness of the American 
nation to her son. 7C3. 

Victorious Race of the Yacht America, in the 
Great International Regatta, 558-506. 

{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
Event ) 

" Victory or death," Jackson's watchword at New Or- 
leans, 263. 

View of death, Washington's, 176. 

Vigilance committee in California, reign of the, 550. 

Vl<idication of Pres. Jackson, 378. 

" Vinegar of Four Thieves," the cholera panacea, 522. 

Violent attack in the senate chamber, on Hon. Charles 
Sumner, 616. 

— defiance of the tax laws, in Massachusetts, 126. 
Virginia, enthusiasm in, at the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, 68. 

— war operations transferred to Pennsylvania. 826. 
Visit of Lafayette to America, as the Gdestof 

the Republic, 272-281. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Visit to'RIchmond by President Lincoln, 884. 

the Queen of England by John Adams. 124. 

tomb of Washington, Piince of Wales's, 759. 

Visits of Moody and Sankey to the various cities, 665. 

Vocal prodigj', the, of modern times. 541. 

Voice of Jenny Lind described, 549. 

Volleys in honor of the Princeton victims. 445. 

Voluntary acknowledgment of guilt by an eminent 

bishop, 448. 
Vortex of ruin during the Chicago fire, 025. 
~, the Sept. gale like a movinc, 270. 
Voting for the first time lor president, 140. 
Vow to God made by Pres. Lincoln on the emancipation 

question, 811. 
Voyage of discovery to the far southern sea, 386. 

Lafayette to America, 273. 

the first steamer, the Savannah, to Europe in 

1818. 741 ; voyage of the largest in the world to Amer- 
ica in 1860. 744. 
Voy.\GE OF the U. S. Ship Jamestown, with Food 

for the Starving in Ireland, 479-186. 
{For topical and analytical details, see first page of thift 
Event.) 



lUUG 



i^"DEX. 



Vulcaneaii hue cast by the aurora borealis display, 
380. 

w. 

Wager of $50,000 offered in favor of the yacht America, 
553. 

«ar boldly staked by the South, 765. 

Wagner's centennial inauguration march, 952. 
Wail of agony and despair im the sinliing ship, 613. 

lamentation and anguish at President Lincoln's 

death, universal, 887. 
Waiting eagerly for the order to fire, 233. 

— for news of the steamship Arctic, 009. 

— to announ,_-o the Declaration of Independence, at 
Philadel|,hia, G7. 

Walker's various lillibustering sche'mes, 748. 

Wall street, New York, a sheet of liaines, 354. 
, , during the great panic, 048. 

" Wanted money, not bank-notes," 284. 

Wanton character of British warfare in America, 242. 

Ward, .1. Q. A., his elegant sculptured monument in 
honor of the ether discovery, 403. 

Warfare on the ocean revolutionized by the Monitor, 
797. 

Warning to Gen. St. Clair against surprise, Washing- 
ton's, 147. 

Warriors, great army of Iruli.'in. 152. 

Washington, Col. George, advocates American inde- 
pendehce, 00. 

— Gen., farewell visit to his mother, 140. 

j first draws his sword as commander-in-chief, 

114. 

, surrender of Lord Cornwallis to, 105. 

-, his adieu to the army, 116. 

, c.\ lamation of ou securing Burgoyne's surren- 
der, 79 

, — on the news of Arnold's treason, 102. 

, spurns the offer to make him king, 115, 

, resigns his commission iis commander-in-chief, 

115. 

, his presidency of the convention for framing the 

Constitution, 132. 

, inaugurated president of the U. S., 139. 

, remark of. on signing the Constitution, 132. 

, lays the corner-stone of the national capitol, 

170. 

, death of, 174. 

— , Mrs. Martha, wife of Gen. Washington, at his dying 
bed, 176 
Washington, the national capital, founding of, 167. 

— . , sacked by the British, 242. 

" Washingtonian " temperance era, 396. 
Watching and waiting for a battle, 235. 

— in grave-yards and on roofs, Miller's followers, 435. 

— the land market for bargains, 04.',. 
Watchword at the battle of New Orleans, 203. 
Water-works at Chicago, nnforlunato destruction of 

during the tire, 925. 

Waters of the Dead Sea e-xamined by Lynch's party, 
497. 

Wayne, Gen., his great victory over the Indians, 147. 

" We have met the enemy, and they are ours," — Perry's 
dispatch, 2.34. 

■• We must fight!"— Patrick Henry's summons to the 
colonies, 06. 

Wearisome litigatian among inventors, 466. 

Webster and Ilayne's great debate in the U. S. senate, 
297. 

— , Daniel, lays the comer-stone of the capitol exten- 
sion, Washington, 17.3. 
, his splendid eulogy of Lafayette, 279. 



Webster, Daniel, unsurpassed as an orator in modem 

times, 299. 
Webster, Prof. John W , murder of Dr. Parknian by, 

523. 
Weehawken dueling-ground, 192. 
Weeks of stormy debate in congress, 375. 
\7 -^oiiig for their children, 572. 
Weii..el, Gen., enters Richmond, the fallen capital, 

883. 
Welcome to Lafayette, 276. 
Wells, Dr., his claim to the ether discovery, 463. 

— , effect of the great Sept. gale on, *J70. 

— , sinking of, for petroleum, 700. 

West Point military academy, reception of the Prince of 
Walcs.atthe, 701. 

to be delivered to the British by Arnold, 102. 

Western " paper cities," 045. 

— rivers, adaptation of steam navigation to, 217. 

" What hath God wrought!"— first formal telegraphic.dls- 

patch, 360. 
Wliat Webster thought of Kossuth, 589. 
Whirlpool of cscitement among the gold seekers, BOl. 
Whiskey l.Nsi'nnF.CTioN ix Pexssvlvaxia, 160. 

— jug. General Taylor's, 401. 

Whispering his farewell to the President, the Japanese 

ambassador, 739. 
White House, or presidential mansion, description of, 

170. 

— instead of re<l flags, 482. 

— Plains, battle of, 114. 

- — haired sage, a, rebuking his assailants, 367, 
Whitelield's portable puli>it at Hie centennial, 958. 
Whiltier, ,]olin G., poem for the national centennial by, 

952. 
Whitney's Extkaordisauy Cottos-Gix Ixven. 

TIDX, 1.54-159. 
(For topical and analytical iMails, see first page qf Ihit 

I^fi;nt.) 
Whole regiments almost annihilated, 804. 
" Whom can we trust now," Washington's exclamation 

on hearing of Arnold's treason, 102. 
Why Giblis killetl his captured crews, 319. 

— the proclamation of emancipation was delayed, 
811. 

Wide fears of a collision between the earth and the 

comet, 425. 
Willow Hamilton's accidental meeting with Aaron 

Burr, 195. 
Wilcox, Gen., at Bull Rim, 788. 
Wild enthusiasm of the confederates «t Bull Bun. 785. 

— shouts of approval of the vigilance committee's 
methoii, 5.'">4. 

— speculations, and enormous debt, residt of, 051. 
Wilkes's exploring expedition to the South Polo, 386. 
" Will nobody help my brother'? " 676. 

'■ Will you pay me my money? — yes, or no I " 050. 

Willard's history quoted from, 414. 

William, emperor of Germany, his letter of friendship 
to Pres. Grant. 907. 

Willing to pay any price demanded, speculators in oil 
lands, 700. 

Wilson's wonderful sewing-machine device, 469. 

Winder and Barney's operations at Wa.shlngton. 243. 

Winslow, Captain, in coninmnil of the Kearsarge, 8.52 ; 
flfllits and sinks the Alabama, 85'2. 

Wintering of .\merican explorers in the ice-bound and 
snnless Arctic, 5.34. 

Wintlirop, R C, centennial orator at Boston. 902. 

Wiping out a badstain. Commodore Hull's method of, 
231. 

Wise, Henry A., Gov., his tribute to John Quincy Ad- 
ams, 371. 
, very high opinion of John Brown, 719. 



INDEX. 



1007 



Wit of John Paul Jones, in the midst of battle, 85. 

— — John Quincy Adams in a scene of excitement, 
366, 

Withdrawal of the government funds from the U. S. 
bank, 374. 

Without a peer in the world, Morphy as a chess-player, 
669. 

on the roll of modern warriors, Gen. Sher- 
man, 868. 

Witness-stand, Mr. Beecher and Mr. Tilton on the, 
9411. 

Wives and husbands, adieus of, on board the Austria, 
676. 

Womanly courage on the deck of the Arctic, 615. 

— devotion of Burr's daughter Theodosia, 210, 
Women in childbirth helpless while the epidemic raged, 

518. 
Wonderful D.vrk Day, M.w 19, 1780, 89-96. 
(For topical and analijtical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Wonderful gate-way in the Rocky Mountains, 403. 
Wonders of the skies. 429. 

" World," so-called in ancient times, 740. 

Wondrous mechanism achieved in the sewing-machine, 

465. 
Worden, Lieut., in command of the Monitor, 793; his 

splendid success, 795. 
Words, last, uttered by Gen. Washington, 177. 

— penned by Pres. Lincoln, the la^^t, 889. 
Work done by the temperance reform, 394. 
Working capacity of the first sewing-machine, 466. 

— of the mind in sudden and dreadful catastrophes, 444. 
telegraph, 346. 

— the pumps of the Central America. 636. 
World's Peace Jubilee and International Mu- 
sical Festival, 915-923. 

(For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 

Event.) 
Would like to fight the Kearsarge, 855. 
Wouldn't drink Captain Glynn's sherry, 594. 
Wrapped in flames, the richest locality in America, 356. 
Wrath of Washington, at St. Clair's defeat, 150. 
Wreaths and bouquets on the senator's coffin, 711. 

— of flowers for Lafayette, 276. 

Wrestling single-handed for three hours with the Liver- 
pool mob, Mr. Beecher, 838. 



Wright, Silas, his firm dealing with insurrectionists, 

414. 
Writhing in the fearful heat of the burning Austria, 

670. 
Written protest of Gen. Sherman against Grant's plan 

at Vieksburg, 825. 
Wyoming, massacre at, 73. 



Yacht America, victorious race of the, 658. 
" Yankee Doodle " played at the Prince of Wales's de- 
parture, 763. 
Yankee products, sui generis, in Ireland, 485. 

— valor on the ocean, a fixed fact, 233. 

Year of jubilee throughout the land, centennial, 951. 

— — suspense, critical, in the nation's history, 138. 
— 8 of bold and successful piracy, Gibbs's, 314. 

Yellow appearance of the clouds during the " Dark 
Day," 93. 

— fever and cholera epidemics, 515. 

Yielding his sword at last, Admiral Buchanan, 865. 
Yorktown chosen by Cornwalhs as his defensive post, 105. 
— , determined operations at, by Washington, De Ro- 

chambeau and De Grasse, 105. 
— , Gen. Cornwallis's surrender at, 107. 
*' You scoundrel, you have dishonored my house — you 

must die!" Sickles's exclamation, 692, 
Young, Brigham, successor to Smith, the Mormon head, 

312. 
Youth and marvelous genius and triumphs of Paul 

Morphy, 666. 
Youtbfulness of Com. Perry at the time of his splendid 

victory, 241. 



Zeal of American geographical research, 494. 

Lafayette for the American cause, 273. 

Zerrahn Tourjee and Eichberg, leaders at the Boston 

musical festival, 917. 
Zest and good humor during the Morphy chess-playing 

era, 666. 
Zouaves in battle, 817. 



THE END. 






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